“Please.” I held up my damp hair so he could get to the zipper. He unzipped me most of the way, and I could feel the edge of his warm, pruney thumb graze the middle of my back, just below the line of my bathing suit top. I scooted away from the warm and pruney thumb to slip all the way out of my wet suit, wrapping up in a towel that was warm and soft from sitting in the sunshine. He grinned, peeled his suit off the rest of the way, and dropped the gate on his truck, creating a place to sit.
Sitting next to each other on the edge, watching the now stronger waves beginning to roll in, he unwrapped the sandwiches he’d made while I pulled a bag of chips open with my own pruney fingers. Licking the saltwater off my lips, I looked around for something to drink.
“I’ve got soda in the cooler,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder.
Seeing it, I scrambled over the truck bed, losing my towel in the process. And as I leaned in to grab the soda, I realized I had very nearly hit him in the head with my bum.
“You want something to drink?” I asked, looking over my shoulder to see him grinning.
“Sure. Whatever. And feel free to take your time. Take a look at every soda in there. Twice, if you want.”
I swung wide and made sure to knock him in the head with the object of his affection on my way back to my seat.
“Here you go,” I said sweetly, handing him his soda while I popped the top on mine. We clinked, then sipped. The morning on the water made us famished, and as we demolished our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, he told me about another beach not far from here that we could try next time.
“You’re making an awful lot of plans for someone who’s leaving again in eight weeks,” I teased, my words casting a bit of a shadow on the day. Part of me didn’t want to get excited about all these new plans, since he’d be leaving. But hey, this was just for fun, right? We weren’t dating; just friends spending some time together.
“I’ll make sure those nights and weekends are worth it between now and then, okay?” he said, nudging me with his shoulder.
I crunched down on a chip and showed him my chewed food. Even the otters heard him laughing.
We spent the rest of the day lazing around at the beach. He dug a Frisbee out of the back of the truck and we ran up and down the beach, laughing and shouting and calling foul play whenever it went into the water. When we finally packed our sunshined bodies into the truck and started for home, it was nearly five o’clock.
When we pulled up, I asked if he wanted to come in for a bit.
“Nah, I need to get home. Get some laundry done before the work week starts up again,” he said, leaning his head back against the seat. “This is one of the times I really miss my ex.”
“She did good laundry, huh?”
“She did!” he exclaimed with a sheepish look. “It’s just not the same when I do it, you know? I used to just open a drawer and bam. Clean shirts, all folded and lined up.”
“I did my own laundry, living at home with my mother. But Charles sent everything out; he liked his dress shirts pressed in a very specific way.”
“I mostly wear scrubs.”
“You sure do,” I said on a sigh, remembering how good he looked in that navy blue heaven. I cleared my throat hastily. “Anyway, enjoy your laundry. I’ll talk to you soon?”
“You bet,” he answered, and I slid out of the truck. Looking through the window, I said, “This was an amazing day; thank you so much. Like, it was one of my favorite days . . . ever.” I meant it. It’d been perfect. I shrugged, trying to lessen what I was saying for some reason. “So, thanks.”
“It was an amazing day, Chloe,” he nodded, his gaze burning into mine. “Thank you.”
“Okay. So . . . bye.” I whirled around and headed inside before I could say anything else. Though what else could I say? How could the day possibly get more amazing?
Oh, I had an idea—boy, did I have an idea.
chapter eight
The next morning, I was in town filling out the last of the paperwork I needed to file with the Monterey county and I stopped by the animal clinic on the way home to pick up some blankets they’d collected for me.
Marge came pranced around the edge of the desk to catch me into a Jean Naté–scented hug. “Oh, sugar, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! How have you been? How was your trip down to see Lou? You saw him when you were there, right? How was he—I mean, how was your trip? Is he coming to town for the grand opening? Lou, I mean?”
“Well, you are just all about my recent travels. How sweet of you to ask,” I teased, giving her a knowing glance. “And, yes, he’s coming for the grand opening.”
“Well, now, that’s just fine, just fine, indeed. I’ll make sure to bring extra of my famous baked beans. Have you heard about my baked beans? Everyone back home in Savannah just raves about them, and everyone out here always asks me to bring them to picnics and potlucks and such. I’ll bring some and you just watch . . . that’s all anybody’ll talk about,” she singsonged.