Page 25 of A Very Un-Shakespeare Romance
“I swear to God, Timmy, I’m going to put you and that cat in a body bag if you keep this Shakespeare thing up.”
“Nothing will stop me.” He raised his fist like a plagued hero making a vow in some off-Broadway drama. “I’ve finally found something that gets under your skin and Billie’s. I will not surrender. I won’t.”
Robbie pretended he couldn’t open the door fast enough as Tim began spouting more Shakespeare gibberish. Honestly, he was feeling better already. His tennis shoes sunk into the sand as he made a beeline toward the beach. The lure of the scene had him breathing easier. The frothy tide was breaking as it reached the gorgeous stretch of golden sand. The sky was mottled with red, orange, and bright blue, all competing for real estate in the open expanse.
The beach was empty of inhabitants, another bonus. Being a city dweller, he craved being alone, and running in the national parks or fishing outside of Boston were his escapes from the madness. He was going to enjoy this run and force his brain to stop bitching. Because even he was getting tired of himself and his damn thoughts.
Maybe that’s what that Shakespeare guy had meant with theout, damned spotcomment. He chuckled to himself and started running, enjoying the way the sand challenged his legs at first. Keeping to the wet sand, he let it rip, doing what his weird Shakespeare-quoting brother had suggested—bypassing the legions of dead or dying jellyfish on the beach.
He ran until he was at his peak cardio level, something a quick pulse check told him. Maintaining his pace, he let his gaze crest across the beach and out toward the ocean, the earthy scents of salt and ocean coming in with each inhale. Used to the rocky shores and cold waters in the Boston area, he thought the Outer Banks was a lot like a steam room, the water so perfect it was almost too warm to swim in.
He’d always preferred the cold water, often winning the longest time in the Atlantic when he and his brothers went to the beach up their way. His mind flashed to his family. He wondered for what had to be the millionth time how they all were, but most especially if any of the Kellys had paid a visit to Danny at the pub. He’d been tempted to call on the burner even though he knew better, and that had made him finally realize why stupid criminals always got caught calling friends and family. They couldn’t resist. But he would. He had to. For Tara’s sake as much as everyone in their rental house. With his mind on Tara, he pushed his pace faster. He wasn’t a religious man anymore, but he wasn’t too proud to call in some prayers.Please let her be safe and back with her babies soon.
The seagulls cried and squawked around him, some fishing for breakfast while others chased a puffin who’d hauled out a decent-sized trout. He and his brothers should charter a boat and take the girls fishing. Usually, when they came to the beach, they went out on the water to fish or shoot the breeze and drink beer, but it hadn’t dawned on him to do that here.
Would the girls be okay on the water? Or would they be happy for about ten minutes and then get bored? Was there whale watching this far south? But wouldhebe bored with a bunch of other tourists waiting for some big tubby water mammal to spew water through its spout?
God, he missed work. Give him a breaking and entering or a carjacking, and he’d be happy as a clam. He didn’t like domestics. Never had. Any man—or woman—beating on someone they were supposed to love was the scum of the earth in his opinion, and he had zero respect for them and their problems. Nothing justified that kind of behavior. Some murders he had an easier time understanding. Like the mob. You screw them, they cut you. Any idiot knew that.
Again, why in the world had Scotty played with the Kellys? If they caught him and killed him, Robbie wouldn’t be sad. The girls would be better off without a man who’d knowingly put his family in that kind of jeopardy.
He felt a presence at his back moments before something flashed by him. “Hey!” he shouted, unnerved that he hadn’t heard the person coming up on him, and so closely for that matter.
A woman with a blond ponytail bobbing and long, slender legs he would recognize in a police lineup. Hadn’t he been staring at them every time she and her friend appeared on the beach for suntanning or reading?Well, hello, Summer Sunshine.She was wearing a blue tank and matching short shorts as she looked over her shoulder and grinned at him.
Surprise rolled over him at her speed—the same way it had when she’d thrown that perfect spiral his way. She didn’t slow down, but that coy smile she was giving him over her shoulder suggested she was pleased with herself for catching him off guard. Then she was facing front again, her strides eating up the beach. He punched up his speed, but even a seasoned runner like him couldn’t keep up. She left him in her dust, and he was more than a little embarrassed by that.
How in the hell did a speech therapist run like that? She must have run track in high school, maybe college even. He watched as she continued a brisk pace up the stretch of beach that rolled out to the left. When she turned around, running back his way, he felt his muscles burn as he extended his pace. Part of him knew he was trying to impress her.
He watched her smile at him like the cat who’d gotten the cream—damn, he could never use that phrase again after Miss Purrfect’s assault on his shorts.
Summer was as pretty as a picture, all slender and sweet as she ran his way. Until she passed him again in a blur. A blur! Man, she was fast!
He thought about turning around and following her, but when he looked over his shoulder, she hadn’t slowed. If she had, she would have been signaling she was interested, right? God, he was clearly out of practice with women, but something told him she was amused by him. She might even be having fun with him. First the football, and now outrunning him…
She was a mystery. A challenge.
Surely, she had to know he was fighting his attraction for her. They stared at each other every time they were on the beach together. So far, she hadn’t pushed it. Clearly she’d decided to show off today.
“Okay, that’s kind of hot,” he acknowledged to himself.
She was stretching when he turned around to come back. He could see her in the distance on the beach, doing that whole lunging warrior thing and other seamless moves that suggested she was not only fast but flexible. Again, really hot. He thought about Billie’s near pleas about going out for a drink and music with adult conversation. Last night, he’d nearly succumbed to temptation when Tim and the girls had started singing along with that Jamaican-talking animated crab.
Would it be such a bad idea?he’d thought.
Then he’d dismissed it, the same way he’d fought the urge to pick up the burner phone and check in with Danny. Call him cautious, but he didn’t want to leave Tim alone with the girls while he and Billie went off on dates. If something bad happened, Timmy couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t live with himself if his brother and the girls were hurt because he’d let his guard down.
Robbie had to assume they were in danger—every day.
Staying home—where he’d beefed up security—was the best plan. The saying among cops who lived to old ages was simple and often repeated to stupid cadets like he’d been, full of bravery, bravado, and balls: stick to the plan; going off half-cocked will get you killed.
He had a plan, a damn good one, even if it wasn’t his usual.
So as he returned to the house, all he did was flash Summer a friendly smile before heading toward the patio door. But as he got closer to their rental, he decided he could have a little fun of his own if she were still watching. She was. Hot damn.
He slowly tugged off his shirt.
CHAPTEREIGHT
