“What? You don’t see me as a hoarder?”
She scrunches her nose and stares at me a long moment as if considering my question. “Too put together.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Her laugh is light and carefree. I wish I could bottle it up along with the ocean air. “As you should.” She stops walking to pick up a bottle cap half buried in the sand. She crouches down at the next roll of the tide, pulling her skirt up high on her thighs with one hand. With the other, she takes the plastic and swishes it through the water to wash it off. She stands to show off her find. Her ankles are wet, feet sandy, and hair wildly out of place. She’s never looked more gorgeous. “Like this?”
Rachel isn’t afraid to get dirty. Add it to the growing list of reasons I like her more.
“Perfect.” I reach for the piece of plastic, but I’m no longer talking about the trash.
Rachel’s lips part. Time freezes. A building buzz of energy in my chest renders me speechless and pushes me a step forward. Her gaze drops to my mouth. God, I want to kiss her. Touch her. Sweep her off her feet. I swear my hands might physically ache because they aren’t on her body.
“Excuse me! Sir.” a young voice interrupts. “Excuse me! Miss. Is that your dog?”
Reluctantly, I turn from her and take in the commotion. Walter in the middle of it. “Oh, fuck,” I mutter, then take off at a jog. Rachel’s laughter follows me, as I’m sure she takes in the chaotic scene. Walter has found himself a mate. A bright green turtle floaty near a family of four, and he’s humping it as if his life depends on it.
A little girl sits next to the beach toy, wailing. “Not Tashie! Daddy, save Tashie!”
Her mother holds her arm, keeping her from Walter and the turtle.
“Walter! No,” I yell. “Walter. Heel!”
His head twists over his shoulder to see me approaching and gives the turtle another round of thrusts before I grab him off his inflatable lover.
“I’m so sorry,” I say to the family. The father, along with the older son, bite back the urge to laugh. The mother glares, more so at her laughing husband than Walter, while the little girl clutches the rescued turtle, crying.
“I hope he didn’t break it. I’ll pay to replace it.”
“It’s fine.” The man waves me off.
I hook Walter to his leash and pull him back toward the surf. “Right. You all have a good evening.”
“Not as good as the dog,” the man mutters, then yelps as the woman slaps him across the chest.
“Really?” she chides. “In front of the children?”
“I’m not the animal humping our beach toys!” he defends.
I cringe, pulling Walter as fast as possible away from the family and back to where Rachel waits.
“Walter!” Rachel kneels in the sand and runs her hands along his fur. “Who knew you were such a naughty boy?”
“That was embarrassing.” Normally he doesn’t wander, but usually he has my full attention. It was my fault for not keeping a better eye on him. I blow out a breath. “Ready to head back?”
“Worried he might scandalize another child?” Rachel lifts her gaze to mine, pats Walter on the head, then comes to stand at my side.
I scrub a hand over the scruff along my jaw. “I’m concerned for unsuspecting inflatable toys, yes.”
“Such a gentleman.” She winks and bumps my shoulder with hers.
We walk back to the beach entrance, washing off our feet and Walter’s paws before hiking up the sand covered concrete steps leading to the parking garage. While Rachel climbs in the passenger seat, I take Walter to the back to towel him off. I consider grabbing the blanket I keep back here, but I rather like the look of my suit jacket wrapped around Rachel, so I leave it behind.
A few minutes into our drive home, I glance over to find Walter is fast asleep on Rachel’s lap.
“He wore himself out,” she says.
“Must’ve been all the humping.”
