She Offers Sunscreen To A Stranger On The Beach, Never Suspecting He’s A CEO Who Falls For Her
The Sunscreen Encounter
“Do you want sunscreen?” Callie Foster asked.
She held out a half-used bottle toward the tall stranger with sun-reddened shoulders sitting just a few feet from her towel.
The man turned his head slowly, squinting against the golden California sun. His dark hair was tousled from the breeze. His expression was caught between amusement and surprise.
“Are you talking to me?”
She nodded, eyebrows raised. “Yeah. I mean, unless you enjoy looking like a lobster.”
He blinked then laughed. It was low and warm, and it made something flutter in Callie’s chest.
“I guess I didn’t realize I was burning.”
“You’re definitely burning,” she said, getting up from her towel and walking toward him. “Here. I’m not trying to flirt, I swear. I just can’t watch someone roast alive right in front of me.”
“That’s a new one,” he said, taking the sunscreen from her.
His hand brushed hers and she felt a jolt she hadn’t expected. He wasn’t just attractive; he was ridiculously attractive.
He had a strong jaw and eyes so blue they looked unreal. He had the kind of presence that made you forget how to breathe.
He rubbed the lotion onto his arms then paused. “I’m Damon.”
“Damon Grant.”
“Callie,” she said. “Foster. You here on vacation?”
He hesitated a beat too long. “Something like that.”
She tilted her head, curious. “Something like that?”
He gave a faint shrug. “Needed a break. Figured Malibu wasn’t the worst place to take one.”
Callie smiled and sat back on her towel. “Well, Damon Grant, you’re welcome. I may have just saved you from a week of peeling skin.”
“You may have,” he said. “And I owe you one.”
They spent the rest of the afternoon talking about little things. They discussed her job at a local animal shelter and his vague mention of managing a company.
They talked about the best tacos on the coast and which beach had the softest sand. He was funny, easy to talk to, and asked questions like he actually cared about the answers.
By the time the sun dipped low and painted the ocean in golden rose, Callie realized she hadn’t laughed that much in months.
“Well,” she said, brushing the sand off her legs. “I should head out before traffic hits.”
Damon stood too. “Can I walk you to your car?”
She hesitated then nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
They walked side by side along the path. Silence settled between them like an old sweatshirt, comfortable and not awkward.
At her car, she turned to him. “Thanks for not being a creep. Offering sunscreen to a stranger could have gone way worse.”
He grinned. “Thanks for saving my skin, literally.”
She opened her door then paused. “You’re not from here, are you?”
“No. New York.”
“Figures. You’ve got that ‘I wear suits even at brunch’ vibe.”
He laughed again, guilty. She got in and started the engine, then gave him one last glance. “Well, enjoy your break, Damon Grant.”
He leaned in just a little, resting his forearms on the top of her car. “Callie Foster, what if I wanted to see you again?”
She blinked. “What?”
“I’m free tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever you’ll let me buy you dinner.”
Her heart thudded too fast. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know I haven’t laughed like that in a long time. And I know you’re the kind of person who offers sunscreen to strangers. That’s enough for me to want more.”
She bit her lips, staring at him. “Okay. One dinner.”
He smiled and it hit her again how effortlessly devastating he was. “Tomorrow, sure,” she said, trying not to grin. “Text me the place. But if it’s somewhere that serves foie gras, I’m out.”
He laughed. “Got it. No foie gras.”
