A Redo (The Sterling Shore Series #6) by C.M. Owens

Author:C.M. Owens [Owens, C.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: C.M. Owens
Published: 2015-05-23T23:00:00+00:00

***

WREN

I pull up to the curb next to the pier, and I swear my eyes try to fall out of their sockets. I’m torn between laughing so hard it hurts and allowing my face to distort in fascinated horror.

An amused policeman stands next to a bench, barely able to keep from laughing. Rye looks like he could kill ten people with just his murderous look.

He stands from the bench, says something to the cop, and then he walks toward me. I’m still reeling from the sight in front of me as everyone walking by bursts out in laughter when they check him out.

Rye is blue from head to toe—I’ll never look at Hefty Smurf the same. At least Hefty wore red pants. This fucker is naked. The only thing he has to shield his crotch is a cowboy hat, and he’s holding it there very firmly.

For some reason, pink fuzzy handcuffs are dangling from both wrists. I’m not sure what’s up with that. It looks like the chain that once connected them has been broken. He jerks my passenger door open, climbs in, and ignores the whistles and catcalls that emerge from all around.

“About fucking time you got here. Where’re the pants I told you to bring?” he growls.

I grimace, but then I can’t help it; my laughter pours out before I can stop it. He glares at me like he wants me dead.

“Sorry,” I say, not meaning it one bit. This has to be the funniest shit I’ve ever seen in my life. “I forgot the pants.”

He groans while leaning his head back, and I laugh harder while putting the car in gear and pulling away from the curb.

“What the hell happened?” I ask him, still laughing.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he growls.

My side is aching, but I can’t stop laughing. Every time he curses me, I only laugh harder. Brin is the smallest girl I’ve ever met, but I swear she’s the toughest. How did she pull this off?

“She had to have had help,” he snarls, and I wonder if I’ve asked my question aloud. “There’s no way she carried me to the beach herself. The flimsy chain on the cheap handcuffs fortunately broke, but I need a key to get them off my damn wrists. I woke up when that cop was shoving the blunt end of his baton against my chest—don’t you dare say anything dirty.”

His threatening glowers doesn’t stop my laughter. I was two seconds away with a dirty retort to go with the blunt end of his baton.

“Anyway,” he continues, his mouth still twisted in an angry scowl, “she left me with my phone.”

I can’t help but laugh harder. “She left you there naked? I can’t believe someone didn’t steal your phone.”

“It was under the hat.”

Again my laughter roars free, and I subtly start using the pad on my steering wheel to locate a song to go with the moment.

“That cop said I’d only been out there for a couple of hours—like that’s no big fucking deal.

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