"Oh hey good timing guys." Walker greeted. "Would you mind keeping an eye on this Zac? I have to get Mackie to the bathroom."
Not waiting for an answer, Walker took Mackie's hand and they headed off.
"I don't know how to barbecue anything." Zac said, pulling a face.
"Loser." Jo answered with a teasing smile, putting on another American accent. "Too many hot dogs and too much of mom's apple pie huh?"
Zac rolled his eyes. Jo smirked.
"You like making fun of Americans huh?"
"I make fun of everyone. You're not special."
Zac had to laugh. Then suddenly, he stopped and his eyes grew wide.
"Jo!" he cried and grabbed at her hand, wrenching it off the hot plate.
"What?" she asked.
Zac stared at her hand. It wasn't even red.
"What?" Jo asked again.
"You, you, your hand… it should have been burning…"
"My hand wasn't on the barbie Zacko. That would be silly. I'd get burnt."
Zac opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.
"It, I, umm -"
"I don't know what you think you saw, but it's certainly not what happened. So, how long you been surfing?"
Zac didn't quite know what to say at this change of subject.
"Oh, umm, a coupla years now…"
"Bet I've been at it for longer. We have some wicked beaches where I live. My Dad runs an Irish pub."
"An Irish pub." Zac repeated. "You Irish?"
"Who knows? I was orphaned when I was four, and adopted about six months later or something. No known rels. But my adapted family is part Irish."
Zac nodded.
"So that's what Drew meant when she said you hold alcohol like a tank."
Jo smirked.
"I've never been drunk in my life, I'll have you know. But, uhh, don't let it get out that I occasionally raid the pub for drinks. Dad would kill me."
Zac laughed. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he had definitely seen Jo's hand on the plate, steam coming off from around it.