Lukas
Iknow the drive out to Point Reyes like the back of my hand. It’s only forty-five minutes of quiet highway, but I could ride all night with Parker’s warm body pressed to my back. After a couple minutes, I feel her relax against me, her soft hands pressing into my skin through my shirt. The real challenge is ignoring the way her legs feel wrapped around me.
The sun is low in the sky when we reach the parking lot. Parker loosens her grip on me and I hold her hand, helping her off the bike behind me. There’s excitement in her wide eyes as she waits for me to dismount. She stretches and smiles at me as she removes my jacket and the spare helmet. The wind makes her hair flutter around her face and I can smell the ocean on the salty breeze as I lead her down the trail.
Kehoe Beach is a half-mile walk through boardwalk trails and sand dunes, and Parker is fascinated by every little thing we pass. The little birds skipping through the dunes make her laugh out loud and the sound grips my chest. When we crest the last dune and the shore comes into view she gasps, stopping in her tracks. Her hand goes to her mouth as she takes in the waves crash on the wide sandy beach. Little sandpipers chase the water as it retreats, running from each fresh surge. Parker’s gaze sweeps up the shore to the rocky cliffs in the distance.
And I can’t take my eyes off her.
When she looks back at me, her hair blows around her and she looks as if she’s a mermaid emerging from the deep—a siren calling to a sailor, urging him into the waves. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. I can’t breathe but I’d go anywhere she beckoned. I want to memorize the line of her jaw, the curve of her lips, and the wide-eyed overwhelmed joy in her expression.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Those words squeeze my chest and something in my soul rearranges, tying me to this moment forever. I don’t know what to say, so I just nod as she looks back out at the sea, my heart stuttering as I watch her. The wind blows her hair back, whipping it around her face and shoulders as she takes a long, deep breath.
I could watch Parker gaze out at the ocean like this forever but all too soon, she glances back, beaming at me, eyes bright as she grabs my elbow for balance and hops around, yanking off her sneakers. I do my best to steady her while still holding our helmets. She tucks her socks into her shoes and takes off running down the sand dunes to the water. Sandpipers and seagulls scatter as she gets near the water.
“Wait!” I call out. “It’s c—”
Her feet hit the water, and she screams, turning and running back up the beach as I laugh.
“It’s cold!” I yell out to her as I struggle out of my boots.
“No crap!” she yells back, laughing. Setting our stuff in the sand, I wrap my jacket around the helmets to keep sand out of the padding and join her at the edge of the surf. Parker digs her toes into the wet sand, watching the little air bubbles that pop up all around us.
“What are those?” she asks.
“Little clams, mostly,” I tell her.
“That’s wild,” she says, holding her hair over one shoulder while she bends down to look at them. Her ass is inches from my fingers and it’s all I can do not to run my hand over those denim curves. I can’t take my eyes off her hips and the way her waist nips in above them. The way she’s bent over is filling my mind with the dirtiest thoughts, and it’s all I can do not to groan out loud.
I wouldn’t press my luck with her, though. I got her to come out here with me, and that should be enough for now. And as much as I want to rip her clothes off and taste every inch of her, I don’t want to rush this. I want to savor my time with her.
I’m so distracted by watching Parker (and thinking dirty thoughts about her) that I miss the rogue wave heading our way until it’s too late. The freezing water hits my knees, so cold it feels like million pins pricking my shins and feet.
“Shit,” I yelp, hopping in place like that’s going to help.
Parker lets out a little scream as she loses her balance and falls face-first towards the foamy water. Without thinking, I shoot out a hand, grabbing hold of her shirt and hauling her back against me as the water rushes back out to sea around our feet. I scoop her up and move up the beach, safe from the frigid water.
Parker has an arm around my neck, her other hand on my chest as she looks up at me with wide eyes. Her pretty lips are parted in a little ‘O’, her breathing shallow as I set her on her feet in the warm sand, my hand on her elbow. Her hands rest on my chest for barely a second before she pulls back, blushing.
“Thank you,” she says breathlessly. “That was crazy.”
“Anytime, Freckles.”
I sit in the dry sand, pulling Parker down next to me. She isn’t touching me but she’s close enough that I can sense her body near mine.
We sit in companionable silence, watching the sandpipers run along the foamy surf and the pelicans bob on the waves as the sun sets.
“I can’t believe you’ve never been to the beach before,” I say after a while.
Parker is running her fingers through the sand, a little collection of shells piled next to her knee.
“Yeah, well… my parents weren’t exactly the fun, family vacation type. I told you we went to a lake once. That was only because my parents had to fumigate the house and the cabin at the lake was close and cheap.”
“Jesus, that sucks. My gran brought us out to the beach all the time as kids. I don’t think a week went by in any given summer that we weren’t out here. When I was a teenager, my friends and I used to sneak out to a secluded beach up north to drink and party.” The smell of beer still reminds me of sitting in the sand, the smell of salty air mixing with the smoke from a bonfire…
“I don’t have many memories of my mother, but I remember her bringing me here the summer before she died. She loved Kehoe Beach, especially the cliffs.” I say, gesturing up the shoreline.