CHAPTER8
- DAX -
She wasn’t kidding when she said she wouldn’t last long.
We’ve just hit the shoreline—that point when the sight of the ocean usually increases my pace. But for her, these last strides in the sand have just about done her in.
She stops, stoops over with her hands on her knees, and catches her breath.
“You okay? Need to sit down?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, no. This is embarrassing. Just give me a sec.”
“Don’t be embarrassed. Running in sand is tough until you get used to it.”
“Wouldn’t taking our shoes off make it easier?”
“Nah. I’ve seen too many guys get their feet messed up by running without shoes. Now that we’re on the hard-packed sand, it will be a breeze.”
She sends me a glare. “A breeze, huh?”
I chuckle. “Well, after you get used to it. How about we just walk for a while?”
“Do you mind?”
“Not at all. You made a good showing already.” I glance down at my watch and my eyebrows rise slightly at the time I see. “You lasted about two minutes longer than the five you predicted.”
“Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not teasing,” I assure her, then I avert my eyes. Because with her bending over like that, panting, I’m getting way too good of a view of the lace bra beneath her scooped-neck tank top.
Lace. Why does it have to be lace?
Something about that lace combined with her overall vibe of girl-next-door-that-every-boy-in-the-neighborhood-wants-to-bang has been pushing me way too close to the edge since I first met her. Not appropriate, since she’s not interested. And if I don’t behave myself, I’ll end up homeless again on the weekends, stuck driving from Savannah and fighting for a parking space, or begging for a room at that B&B where everything smells like potpourri, including me after staying a couple nights.
“You did good. You have to start somewhere. Besides, just being down here by the water—the salty air—that’ll probably be enough to put you to sleep later. It always does for me.”
“I thought you military guys could sleep anywhere.”
I cock my head, curious. “Sounds like you’ve got some experience being around military guys.”
“Well, wearejust thirty minutes from Hunter Army Airfield. We see a pretty regular flow of you Rangers every summer.”
I laugh. “Thirty minutesifthere’s no traffic,” I correct, glancing over at her. The steady breeze rolling in from the ocean blows her hair in every direction, and I fight the urge to reach over and tuck her chocolate-brown hair behind her ears. I fight it because it would just be an excuse to touch her.
Jackson is right. Maybe Ishouldhang out with the team some Friday night rather than rushing to Tybee. A little company from a willing woman might be in order. I’m long overdue.
But the prospect of a hook-up with some random woman sounds even more unappealing when I’m around Millie.
Because I like her. Ihatethat I like her. But I like her.
I like that she adopted an old dog. I like that she honors her grandma’s memory by serving that pie. I like that she’s got this amazing degree from a high caliber university but chooses to work in a job where she interacts with normal, average Joes and Janes rather than the people my ex-girlfriend preferred—like the heads of wealthy special interest groups and sleezy politicians.
And I like that Millie’s here with me, trying something new rather than nursing her troubles with a bottle of wine like my parents would, even though they preferred the hard stuff over something as weak as pinot noir.
I like everything about this girl… except for the fact that she’s apparently got something against military guys like me.
I wonder where that comes from.