“If I want a dip, I’ll use the pool. Stop it!”

“Can’t come to the seashore without getting in the sea.” He waded right in with her over his shoulder, then tossed her.

She managed one short curse, then held her breath.

The cool water closed over her head, and she felt sand swim in every-damn-where as she pushed herself up. When she blinked the salt water out of her eyes, she saw him standing about waist high and grinning.

“Damn it, Del. It’s cold.”

“Refreshing,” he corrected, and dived under an oncoming wave. She, of course, didn’t see it coming. Knocked down, breathless, carrying yet more sand, she started to push up again, as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“You’re so pushy, Brown.”

“Got you in, didn’t I?”

“I like to look at the ocean, swim in a pool.”

“We don’t have an ocean at home,” he pointed out. “Here comes another one.”

At least she was prepared this time, rolled with the wave—and had the satisfaction of shoving him under. He only surfaced laughing. Since she was wet, sandy, and covered with salt, she struck off to swim past the breakers. As her skin and muscles warmed, she had to admit Del had a point.

They didn’t have an ocean at home.

She dived under again, just for the pleasure of it. And once more, his hands closed around her waist.

“That’s far enough out.”

“Pushy,” she said again.

“Maybe.” But he wrapped around her so they bobbed. She felt him take a few strong kicks to bring them closer to shore. What the hell, she decided, and, relaxing against him, let him do the work.

She watched her friends, on shore and sea, listened to the sounds of voices, of surf, of music.

“I could get myself back to the beach,” she told him. “Like I could’ve gotten myself in the water in the first place if I’d wanted to.”

“Yeah, but then I couldn’t do this.” He shifted her, took her mouth as the water rocked them.

Once again she was forced to admit he had a point.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

SHE WANTED TO BAKE. MAYBE IT WAS THE LIGHT PITTER-PATTER of morning rain outside the windows that turned the beach into a pearly watercolor—or just several days running without doing much more in the kitchen than making coffee or nuking some popcorn.

Laurel supposed it was the same as Parker sneaking off for a couple of hours every day to huddle over her laptop, or Mac with her camera. And hadn’t Emma hunted up a flower shop so she could buy armloads to arrange around the house?

After a few days of sleeping in, lazing around, after the long walks and nightly game fests, she just wanted to get her hands in some dough.