Page 19 of Chasing Lynda

I jump, startled. “What the fuck!”

My old backpack has just been dropped on top of the squashed croissants that are the only tangible thing I have left from Carter. There’s a pair of feet clad in white running shoes.

I lift my gaze, looking at long, muscular legs; narrow hips, a trim waist and a strong, muscled chest covered by a tight fitting tank top.

I don’t know the guy and for a second, I flinch. “How do you have my backpack?” I ask, abruptly.

His friendly smile doesn’t falter, he has vibrant green eyes that light up when his smile widens. “Last night on the beach. Remember? There were some assholes who weren’t behaving appropriately in the presence of a lady and my friends and I got them escorted away from the beach. Nothing like a stay at the local police station to liven up a long weekend.”

Recognition finally settles the feeling that the guy looked familiar. The same feeling I got when I saw Carter earlier. He was with this guy and two others. “Thank you,” I say, grabbing the straps of my backpack and lifting it off the sand. “But how do you have my bag?”

The guy explains. “We got it from those assholes last night, when security took care of them. You took off so fast, that we had no choice but to take it to the resort’s Lost and Found room. I noticed you earlier, when I was just beginning my evening run and I quickly went to get it for you.”

This guy knows Carter and he isn’t a threat, so I relax and return his smile. “It’s very nice of you to go through all this trouble to return it. And I haven’t thanked you and your friends for helping me out of a real pickle.”

He shrugs. “Not a problem. I know it’s none of my business but if you want a piece of advice, be careful around here. Most people are harmless and this is a friendly college town, but especially in the summer, you never know what washes up Bridgeport’s beaches.”

In different circumstances, I’d find his warning patronizing and I’d tell him where to shove his advice. But his smile is genuine and he doesn’t have any reprimand in his tone, like my dad, Aaron or any male at church would have had in my past life.

I nod. “You’re right. Thank you.”

6.

The Bullshit Bonus

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Zane

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DAMN, I JUST SOUNDED like a complete asshole. But this girl doesn’t seem to mind. Rather than telling me to stick my advice where the sun don’t shine, like Callie would do, she thanks me.

“Thank you,” she says softly, lifting her backpack off the sand and revealing a paper bag with the logo of the resort’s cafe on it.

“Fuck.” I chuckle, lowering myself a little too close to her and causing her to scoot a little to the side. “Did I just crush your dinner?”

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