Brutal Love & Stanley Cups: A Slapshot Novel (Slapshot Series Book 7) by Heather C. Myers

Author:Heather C. Myers [Myers, Heather C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-06-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

The beach.

Dean had taken her to the beach.

How fitting.

It really was their spot. They had spent so much of their time here. Clara could still feel the one bad sunburn she had received that summer. She remembered the feeling of Dean’s hands on her back, rubbing lotion into her skin. It stung and felt amazing, a contradiction that constantly seemed to plague Dean. Made Clara fall in love with him more because of his complexity.

Dean stepped out of the car and went to go pay for parking while Clara continued to wait in the car. She wasn’t exactly dressed for the beach. She had on striped Calvin Klein pajama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt, with flip flops on her feet. Her hair was a tangled mess thanks to the fact that she couldn’t brush it before she chose to leave.

“You coming?” Dean stood by the side of the car, giving her a curious look. “The machine didn’t spit me out a tab for the parking.”

“You typed in a license plate?” Clara opened the door and stepped outside. The sun was high in the sky overhead, shining down on everything it could touch. “You don’t have to do that anymore. Put something on the dash, I mean. It logs your plate.”

“Oh.” He stepped back as Clara turned and closed the door. “You ready?”

“Ready for what, exactly?” Clara asked, her voice hesitant. “Some food and - hey, what happened to the Stuft Surfer?”

Clara glanced over at the restaurant that was still under construction. “They’re updating it, I think,” she replied. “I don’t know when it’s going to be done, though. I miss it too.”

Dean looked down at her. “Really?” he asked, seemingly surprised. “You still come here.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Clara said, a knowing look on her face. “I like the food. That is it.”

“Okay.” He did nothing to mask his doubt. “Talk to me.”

Clara fiddled with the edge of the shirt she wore. She tried to twist it and slide the twisted material underneath the shirt, tying it without an actual knot.

“About what?” she asked.

It was still April. Tourists didn’t descend until May, around Memorial Day, so the boardwalk was somewhat empty. There was an elementary school on the beach with a playground in the sand. Besides a couple of toddlers, no one else was hanging out there. Some roller skaters skidded past the two, and an older couple walked their old beagle on the sand.

It was a nice day. The sun was bright, not a cloud in the sky, but there was a gentle breeze that picked Clara’s hair off of her shoulders. A bike rang its bell behind them and they stepped out of the way so the bike could maneuver around them.

“How you are,” he said. “What have you been up to? I wrote you when you graduated school. Did you get my letter?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” Clara felt her lips curl up. “I don’t think my mom wanted me to have it. She was worried...” She let her voice trail off.

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