“It’s fine,” she cut in. “Let’s not talk about it anymore.”
Cash reached out for her, but she sidestepped him and put a few more feet of distance between them. “I’m going to work on my laptop for a bit. I want to look through some more job ads.”
Guilt pricked his insides as she stalked toward the bedroom. Shit. He’d definitely hurt her with the accusation that she didn’t have the guts to follow her dream, but as usual, his brain-to-mouth filter had failed him.
Frustrated, he ran a hand over his scalp. Times like these, he wished he possessed Dylan’s charm, or the ability to sweet-talk the birds out of the damn trees like Jackson. But no, apparently he was destined to wreck every relationship by being too damn honest.
This isn’t a relationship. It’s a fling with an end date, remember?
And boy, didn’t that reminder make his spirits plummet even lower.
A few hours later, Cash trudged down the beach to meet the guys. His mood hadn’t improved as the day dragged on. He’d tried apologizing to Jen, but she’d brushed it off, saying it was no big deal, but clearly it was, because she’d barely uttered ten words to him all afternoon. He’d almost blown off this workout to stay home and make things right with Jen, but slacking off wasn’t an option in his line of work.
As he approached his fellow SEALs, he pushed all thoughts of Jen from his mind. Seth and Jackson walked up to greet him but Dylan hung back, averting his eyes. Shit. So this was going to be awkward.
“’Sup, Wade,” he said tentatively, sticking out his hand.
After a beat, Dylan lifted his head. Rather than the discomfort or embarrassment Cash expected to see, Dylan’s green eyes displayed a twinkle of knowing humor. “’Sup, McCoy.”
As they bumped knuckles, the tension in Cash’s body eased, replaced with a tremor of relief that last night’s activities hadn’t fucked up their friendship.
“How’s the lovely Jen?” Dylan asked with a faint grin.
“Pissed. Her psycho ex got a hold of her cell number.”
“Did she talk to him?”
“Yeah, but only because I forced her to.” He glanced at the other two. “I need to be out of here by six, so let’s get this show on the road.”
They stuck to the same routine as last time. Fortunately, it was cloudy out, so Cash didn’t have to worry about coming down with sunstroke again. Unfortunately, he was preoccupied about his impending encounter with Jen’s ex, which allowed all three of his buddies to kick his ass in the push-up competition Seth challenged everyone to after the swim.
It was quarter to six when they finished up. Carrying their sneakers and socks, the foursome walked soaking wet to the parking lot, drawing several appreciative glances and a few come-hither smiles from a group of female tourists loitering near the Hotel Del.
While Seth and Jackson walked ahead, Dylan sidled up to Cash. “What’s going on? You’ve got the expression you wear when you’re in ass-kicking mode.”
His voice lowered to a lethal pitch. “I’m paying a visit to Jen’s ex.”
Seth overheard and turned to stare at him. “What the hell you doing that for?”
“Because I’m tired of this creep not getting the message. Someone needs to make it clear that Jen doesn’t belong to him.”
“And that someone has to be you?” Seth asked, perplexed.
They reached the cars, and Cash popped the trunk of his Escape and grabbed a few towels and four water bottles. He tossed the others one of each, then dried up and chugged some water. Normally he drove back to his apartment in his wet trunks, but since he was heading straight to the bar, he realized he’d have to change right here in the parking lot.
“Make sure nobody’s looking at my bare ass,” he called as he grabbed a pair of camo pants from the duffel bag in his trunk.
He ducked behind the open driver’s door, quickly shucked the swim trunks, and yanked his pants on, commando. The black T-shirt he’d stripped off before the workout went on next, and rather than sneakers, he grabbed a pair of clean socks, rolled them on his feet, and put on his boots.
When he turned around, he noticed the other men rummaging through the duffel bags in the back of Seth’s Jeep. Trunks were stripped off, pants and shirts came on, and all three opted for shitkickers as well.
Cash frowned. “You all live around the corner. Why you getting dressed?”
“We’re coming with you,” Dylan answered cheerfully.
“Duh,” Seth said in a dry voice.
“You think we’re going to let you confront the psycho without backup?” Jackson piped up as he bent to lace up his boots.
“I’m only going to talk to the guy.”
“Talking’s for pansies,” Seth replied. “If you want him to get the message, you’ve gotta rough him up a bit.”