Every Second With You (No Regrets Book 3) by Lauren Blakely

Author:Lauren Blakely [Blakely, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lauren Blakely Books
Published: 2014-02-09T18:30:00+00:00

19

Harley

The sky stretches above us in endless blue, the shade so pure and perfect it seems unreal. The sun inches its way overhead, and the waves crash into the sand, the powerful Pacific Ocean pushing and pulling at the sandy shore with its mighty force.

“I told you so,” I say to Trey the next morning. “I told you you’d want shorts.”

He holds up his hands in surrender as he throws another tennis ball to the dog. Trey’s jeans are cuffed up, but the cuffs are soaked. He wears a T-shirt, but without board shorts, he looks out of place on the beach and, frankly, a bit silly.

“You look like an interloper. Like a city boy. You’re embarrassing me,” I say as I kick sand onto his feet playfully, the grains sliding through my naked toes. I love the feel of the sand on my bare feet, the breeze on my arms, and the salty bite of the waves in my nostrils.

The Sheriff returns to Trey, trotting by his side and making big puppy-dog eyes at him as we cut across the beach toward the house. Already the dog has adopted Trey, or maybe it’s the other way around. I never knew my guy had that side of him—the dog-person side. Then again, he never knew he did either.

“I’ve never had a pet,” he told me this morning when he woke up, laughing as The Sheriff licked his face, the dog’s way of asking for breakfast. “But this dog kind of rocks.”

When we reach the deck of the house, Robert and Debbie are drinking their morning coffee outside.

“He needs shorts,” I tell Robert.

“The Sheriff? That’s crazy. He only wears clothes at night, when he puts on his pj’s. He goes full monty during the day.”

I laugh and point my thumb at Trey. “Him.”

“You telling me I need to take your boyfriend shopping?”

I nod. “Pretty please.”

Robert shakes his head, but he’s already giving in. He turns to Trey and claps him on the shoulder. “Now, son, I’m giving up my man card to take you shopping, but she’s right. I’m thoroughly embarrassed by your lack of appropriate beach attire. Surprised, too, that TSA didn’t confiscate your bags at the airport yesterday. We usually don’t let anyone into San Diego with jeans on,” Robert says, pointing to his own cargo shorts.

They leave, and I join Debbie on the deck. The dog follows, parking himself in a perfect sit next to me and looking expectantly at Debbie with the ball in his mouth.

She takes the ball and tosses it far away in the sand, and the dog is off like a shot.

“Why’d you name him The Sheriff?”

“When we adopted him, we had cats, and he was always trying to herd them and round them up, like they were his posse or something. So we called him The Sheriff.”

“I like that name.”

“Thank you. Would you like some coffee? Tea, or lemonade?”

It’s only ten in the morning, but lemonade sounds delicious. “Lemonade, please.”

She heads into the house and returns quickly with two tall glasses.

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