I step closer to him to see what he has. “Oh. Just a business card.”
“Penelope Hayes,” he reads. “Personal trainer.” He raises an eyebrow and looks at me.
I shrug. “I met her on Saturday.”
He flips the card over, reading the back. “You went all the way to Dallas, Texas?”
“It was a last-minute idea. Anne loves a good adventure.”
He drops the business card back onto the countertop where he found it. “Any other spontaneous trips coming up, or can I make plans with you this weekend?”
I bite my lip. “Anne wants to go back to San Diego.”
“Did you not collect as many seashells as you wanted the first time?”
I smile. “Something like that.”
“Are the tickets booked?”
“Not yet.”
“Then push it off. Hang out with me.”
“This will be the last trip for a while. And we should only be gone for a day.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up. “What if your return flight gets canceled?”
“I’ll fight my way into the cockpit and fly the plane myself.”
“Wow. You would hijack a plane for me?”
“Of course. Don’t you have an adoption event this weekend anyway?”
He leans against the countertop. “Yeah, but only Saturday morning. I’m free all afternoon.”
“Maybe you can use all that free time to go to the beach.”
“I was thinking we could go to the beach right now.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Now? I thought you had to go back to work.”
“I decided to take the rest of the afternoon off,” he says.
“Really? But who will save the walruses if you’re not there?”
“The walruses will be fine. I’ll keep my phone nearby. So what do you think? Want to go to the beach?”
I smile. “Yeah. Let me get my swimsuit on.”
I start toward my bedroom, then pause, remembering the letter on the other side of the kitchen. I turn around and grab it, then stuff the folded letter into the back pocket of the pants Anne let me borrow. I’ll have to remind myself to ask Anne where she got these pants. I can never find any that have pockets.
He waits in the living room while I change. I put on a loose white tank top and a pair of shorts over my bathing suit, then grab a bottle of sunscreen.
“Do you need to change?” I ask when I return to the living room.
He shakes his head. “I’m wearing my swim trunks already.”
I look down at his legs. It hadn’t occurred to me before that he wasn’t dressed like someone who was heading back to work. My gaze lingers on his muscular calves for a minute. I’ve seen him run half naked, but I can still appreciate how good he looks in a pair of swim trunks.
