If you’d asked four-year-old Sunny what he wanted to be when he grew up, he definitely wouldn’t have said professional eye candy for retired women.

Somewhere along the way, he’d been scammed.

Not literally, but he honestly would’ve preferred that.

Sunny loved the beach. In a world where everything seemed to change every five minutes, it was the one thing that stayed the same. His anchor.

The smell of salt in the air. Sand sticking to everything. Sunlight dancing across the water. He could always come back to it.

Surfing was the real love of his life, though.

Sunny wasn’t Sunny without his board, Minty—a classic longboard painted soft seafoam green and cream, with a sleek single stringer running from nose to tail.

He adored that thing.

Growing up in Miami with what felt like a million younger siblings, he’d spent most of his childhood looking for excuses to disappear. The beach had become his escape. His quiet place.

But even after moving out, Miami never quite scratched the itch.

He wanted seagulls screaming overhead. Kids dropping ice cream cones the second their parents bought them. Tiny beach towns where everyone knew everyone.

The internet had promised exactly that.

So six months ago, Sunny packed up everything he owned and moved to some remote little coastal village that looked like it’d been pulled straight out of a travel brochure.

Every photo looked fake. Too perfect. Crystal-clear water, empty stretches of sand, cozy little shops tucked between palm trees. Paradise.

Every review swore it was real.

Naturally, Sunny had assumed paradise came with killer beaches, killer vibes, and killer babes.

He’d been wrong.

The beaches? Absolutely sick. Better than anything he’d ever surfed before.

Everything else?

Not so much.

What nobody mentioned was that the place was apparently a retirement colony disguised as a beach town.

Sunny wasn’t even exaggerating.

Sure, it wasn’t all old people, but middle-aged moms chasing toddlers around didn’t exactly improve the situation.

So now here he was, stranded in the middle of nowhere, working as a lifeguard and surfing whenever he wasn’t being recruited by old men to carry heavy shit around.

Living the dream.

Sunny stepped out of the convenience store—the only goddamn convenience store in town—with a popsicle in hand.

It was hot as hell.

The sun blasted him directly in the face as he took a bite.

Immediately, he dropped the popsicle.

Pain shot through his teeth.

“Fuck.”

His teeth were sensitive.

Of course they were.

Nothing ever went right around here.

Grumbling under his breath, Sunny scrubbed a hand down his face and bent to pick up the stick. The popsicle itself was already melting into a sad little puddle on the sidewalk.

Then he stopped.

A foot.

Not just any foot, either.

A young foot.

Toes that didn’t look like they were one bad step away from retirement.

Now that was a rare sight around here.

Slowly, Sunny looked up.

Sitting on the edge of the sidewalk was exactly the kind of person he’d moved to this village hoping to find.

A babe.

Yes.

Holy shit, yes.

Finally.