Fortunately, nobody argued, and a few minutes later, the only heat Cash got was that of the sun’s rays beating down on his head and shoulders. He zoned out as his sneakers slapped the wet sand, drawing in the scent of salt and sweat on each inhale.
They ran their usual four miles. The only sounds breaching the comfortable silence were the thud of sneakers on sand and the squawking of gulls overhead. Sweat rose on Cash’s bare chest, dripping down his forehead and sliding between his pecs. Jeez, it was hot out. Only nine thirty in the morning, but he’d bet the temperature was somewhere in the eighties already, and climbing steadily. But it beat the desert climate of Phoenix, where the summers could be unbearable. And Coronado also had the ocean factor going for it—there was nothing he loved more than the salty spray of the Pacific misting his face as his feet whipped across the sand.
When they neared the beach’s northernmost point, they turned around and slowed their pace, making their way back to the main stretch. Ryan and Jackson paired off, jogging up ahead, while Cash found himself flanked by Dylan and Seth, both of whom were grinning like a pair of idiots.
“How’s the hands-off plan going?” Dylan asked with barely restrained amusement.
“Terribly,” Cash admitted. “That woman is determined to seduce me.”
Seth hooted. “Poor baby. A hot chick wants to screw you. Whatever will you do?”
He clenched his jaw. “Not her. I promised Carson I’d behave.”
“What Carson doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Seth said in a singsong voice.
Cash snorted. “Right, because it’s so easy to keep secrets in this group. I can recite all the women every single one of you has slept with. If I sleep with his sister, Carson will find out.”
“Not from us,” Dylan said.
Now Seth snorted. “No, you’re right,” he told Cash. “If Dylan knows, everyone will know.”
“Bull. I know how to keep my mouth shut.”
“Not after a few shots of J?germeister, you don’t.”
Dylan sighed. “Good point.” He glanced at Cash. “How about I become your sponsor? You know, like AA-type shit. I’ll help keep you in line.”
“So you’ll strap on the chastity belt for him?” Seth cracked.
Dylan ignored the remark. “Whenever you’re tempted to unzip your pants, just call me and I’ll talk you out of it. I’ll even check in with you every few hours and give you gruesome facts about what it’s like to drown, as an incentive not to piss off the LT.”
Cash had to laugh. “You’re a good friend.”
“You know it.”
The trio caught up with Ryan and Jackson at the water’s edge, kicked off their sneakers and waded into the water. Cash welcomed the initial rush of cool relief as he submerged himself, but it wasn’t long before he was sweating again. The two-mile swim was one he could do in his sleep with one arm tied behind his back, but damn, it was sweltering hot out today.
A throb had built in his temples by the time they staggered back to shore, but he felt more relaxed than he had in days. He loved hanging out with his boys. The camaraderie they’d formed during BUD/S training had only grown stronger over the years, which was a bit of a shock considering how different they all were. Dylan, the California boy with his preppy clothes and natural charisma. Tough guy, chain-smoking, chip-on-his-shoulder Seth. Jackson, with his sweet-talkin’ ways and good ol’ boy charm. Ryan and the others were great too, but those friendships didn’t come close to rivaling the tight-knit bond he’d formed with his three fellow rookies.
“Don’t forget,” Dylan murmured before they parted ways in the parking lot ten minutes later. “Your sponsor is only a phone call away.”
Grabbing a towel from the back of Ryan’s Jeep, Cash dried his dripping wet chest and said, “That’s actually kinda reassuring.”
Dylan grinned. “She’s really gotten under your skin, huh?”
He let out a heavy breath. “You don’t know the half of it.”
Jen was curled up in one of the recliners clicking through online job ads on her laptop when Cash lumbered into the apartment. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of all that hotness. The sweaty T-shirt pasted to his chest emphasized every hard ridge and ripple of his broad torso, and since he hadn’t shaved before leaving this morning, dark stubble covered his strong jaw, lending him a feral air.
When she noticed the flush on his cheeks and the weary set of his mouth, she narrowed her eyes. “You okay?” she asked, closing her laptop and setting it on the coffee table.
“I think I overdid it,” he admitted. “I might have heatstroke.”
She grinned. “The big, tough Navy SEAL let the sun get to him?”
He ignored her and strode toward the corridor. “I’m taking a shower.”