8. Always be Prepared to Visit the Beach
Chapter eight
Always be Prepared to Visit the Beach
Sawyer
I beat Neil to the boardwalk since he had to take a detour to drop off his dog. I stayed in the car, since there were multiple dogs on the beach, and sketched in the pad I kept in the glove box.
Neil pulled up a bit later, getting out of a tiny beat-up pickup truck that was half rust. Not what I had expected him to drive, that’s for sure. The car was so old he manually had to roll the window back up with a hand crank. I wondered if it even had AC. The interior pleather seat was cracked and repaired with duct tape.
His business casual was covered in dog hair and rumpled. I liked the look, gave him character, and softened the uptight edges of his personality. I was surprised he hadn’t taken the time to change, but then maybe he hadn’t wanted to keep me waiting.
“Not a word about the car,” Neil growled as he slammed his car door shut. “I inherited it from my grandfather and can’t afford to replace it.”
I’d never been good at regulating my expression. “I didn’t say anything,” I assured him, even if I had thought it very loudly.
I might not be a fan of this truck, but I had to admit that I’d watched him pull in, and it could turn on a dime and wasn’t too oversized to fit in a regular parking space, unlike the newer full-size trucks I’d seen around town.
“Oh my gosh,” Neil exclaimed as we exited the parking lot. The setting sun turned the sky over the bay a brilliant shade of pink that reflected purple on the calm waters.
I cringed as a dog ran through the surf, a frisbee clutched in his jaws. At least the dog was far enough away that I could pretend it was a 2D image on a television screen, not something that could hurt me.
When I’d suggested the place, I’d been thinking of the lovely aisles of books and how I missed watching the sun set over the beach while dining on the patio. The fact that I’d been avoiding the boardwalk for the last year because of the dogs had slipped my mind.
I needed to distract myself and caught sight of the lighthouse in the distance across the bay. “Have you heard about the ghosts of the bay?”
“Let me guess, ghost woman? Or ghost ship?” He shot me a wry smile, the light glinting off his glasses.
“Both,” I admitted.
Neil barked out a laugh. I’d never thought about it before, but now that he’d pointed it out, I suppose it was a bit silly that we had legends about both. I waited while Neil got his breath back, wiping away tears from the corner of his eyes and resetting his glasses.
“This way,” I told him once he was ready, weaving between the cars to stand on the sidewalk. Most of the pavement was covered with sand, and I itched to kick off my sandals and walk barefoot.
I’d been avoiding the beach this past year, and only now, standing this close to the surf, did I realize how much I’d missed it. I mean, I knew I’d missed it, but this deep ache that eased at me being here again drove home how much. Thankfully, I had Neil with me, keeping me from spiraling into self-recrimination.
Neil had reached the entrance to the bookstore ahead of me and slowed at the open door, staring in at the book displays. “I thought you were joking about a café slash bookstore. This is amazing.”
“I know, right? But food first, books after.” I continued on, with Neil scrambling after me as I plowed past him.
“Ugh, I already have sand in my shoes,” he complained as we reached the entrance to the café half of the building. As we waited at the empty host stand, he leaned on me to take off one shoe and then the other to knock sand out of them. Even that simple touch and act of trust sent blood rushing to my face and elsewhere.
“That’s what you get for wearing dress shoes to the beach,” I teased him.
His brow furrowed as he slipped his second shoe back on. “I hadn’t planned to visit the beach today.”
“You live in a beach town now, my dude. You should always be prepared to visit the beach. And you could have changed when you went home.”
“Sandals don’t exactly go with chinos,” he said with a small shake of his head, but the corners of his mouth had turned up in amusement. “And I was in a hurry. I haven’t exactly unpacked.”
“You realize you’re in Cali now. Chinos are the west-coast equivalent to wearing a tux to work.”
Neil opened his mouth to respond, but a squealed call of “Sawyer!” cut him off. A dark-haired woman waved at us, jogging up from the beach.
“Hey, Frankie,” I said as she reached us.
“Sawyer!” Frankie threw her arms around me in a quick hug before stepping back, although she continued to bounce on her toes while she talked. She wore a one-piece bathing suit, and sand coated her wet legs. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Just busy, you know. Frankie,” I said, ignoring her unspoken question about why I hadn’t been around. I’d already told Neil the truth, but I didn’t want to discuss it with Frankie. She was a huge gossip who worked at a popular beach hangout; if I told her, the news would spread around Gaynor Beach like lightning. “I want you to meet Neil. He’s the new volunteer coordinator over at the shelter. Frankie and I went to high school together,” I said to Neil as he and Frankie shook.
“And junior high and elementary school. And preschool.” Frankie laughed. “It’s a small town.”
He gave her a little wave and a smile. “Hi, nice to meet you.”
“Same,” Frankie said, looking Neil up and down. Her eyebrows came together, and I could almost hear the gears turning. “You two have a fun, romantic night out. I’ll let you be.” She winked at me with a grin.
“Not a date,” I said, trying to match her grin despite not feeling it. “Neil’s new in town, and I offered to show him the local sights.”
“Suuuure,” Frankie said, winking and elbowing my side. “When you coming back? You’ve missed some killer waves.”
I groaned; I craved those waves so bad. The crash of the ocean was like a siren song that I’d been too terrified to answer for the last year. “Yeah… Soon, I hope.” I gave her a fist bump. I really hoped I was telling the truth. I mean, I was good enough to survive two trips to the animal shelter. I’d be back in no time.