As I stand next to my truck, peeling my wetsuit off, the first of the lightning flashes across the sky. I’m looking forward to getting home and taking that first sip of my cold beer while I sit and watch the storm roll in. Slipping my boardshorts up my legs under my towel, I catch movement down near the shoreline. The noise of the wind and the thunder is getting louder as the raindrops fall.
Damn, it’s that stupid dog. I can’t hear the woman’s voice, but I know she’s screaming for it to come back. The storm must have frightened Coco and made the dog take off. I don’t know her, but I’ve heard her screaming the dog’s name every day, even above the noise of the waves. For once that stupid dog needs to listen. As Coco finally slows up and plonks down into the sand, I watch the gorgeous woman stop and try not to scare her dog again. By now the rain is really starting to fall heavily, and I can see her clothes getting wet. My feet start moving towards her, but I can’t rush straight down the sand because it will send the dog running again. This woman is so tiny, and I wonder why someone as small as a pixie chose such a large dog. Her mastiff is almost the same size as her.
Whatever she’s saying must be working, as her hands creep closer with the lead. Coco is lying as flat as she can in the sand, like she’s trying to hide from the storm and doesn’t know how to. I see the look of victory on her face when she attaches the lead to Coco’s collar. I feel like cheering for her, because now she can get back to the safety of her home, before things really break loose.
I’ve got to be honest, I don’t like the look of the clouds forming out over the ocean. As I’ve stopped just at the edge of the sand dunes, she still hasn’t noticed me, so I wait to watch her make her way back up the beach. But the harder she tries to get Coco to get up and move, the more the damn dog is determined to keep lying as flat as she can to the sand.
Trying to drag the dog is not working. The weight ratio means that she’s got no chance. That’s when I know it’s time to step in and help. Racing towards her across the sand, I almost laugh at her trying to lift Coco up to carry her. If she weren’t in so much danger, then it would almost be comical.
“Coco, please, baby, we need to go. I’m so scared of the storm, but I can’t leave you.” Her voice sounds petrified as I come up beside her while she is trying to lift her dog.
The howl of the wind is getting louder, but her voice is clear as anything.
“Let me help you,” I shout, trying to be heard above the storm. Not meaning to, I’ve frightened her even more. Her sole focus on Coco means she didn’t see me running to her.
I’m not sure if the water running down her cheeks is from the rain or crying as she looks up at me with her pleading eyes.
“Please, I can’t do this on my own.”
“You’ll be okay, I’ll make sure you’re both safe,” I say, knowing in my gut that these words mean more than she’ll understand. Right as I reach down to put my arms under Coco, a huge clap of thunder rumbles around us and the now-dark sky lights up like the middle of the day for a split moment.
“Run!” I scream to her as we both take off down the beach.
Chapter Two
KURT
This dog weighs a ton, which I’m sure is made worse by the fact she’s now wet. If Ricky could see me now, the smartass comment about being old would be thrown out the window. Running in sand is hard at the best of times, but carrying this lump of a dog, the rain beating down on us, the sand all wet, and trying to concentrate on the woman in front of me who seems to be struggling is making this a challenge.
She’s starting to slow, and I have to admit my lungs are burning too. Then the boom of the thunder again makes us both almost jump out of our skin. Her legs are now pumping hard, and I’ve found a bit more energy in the tank to push forward. Getting close to the sand dunes, I know we must be almost to the back of her property, but I’m not stopping until I get her and Coco safe inside.
Reaching the back gate that’s flapping in the wind, she stops to hold it open for me. She tries to shut it as I step through, but it’s not staying latched.
“Leave it, we can fix it later. Get inside now,” I yell at her. She looks up at me with a little confusion but does as I ask, although with hesitation. Until the lightning lights up the sky again—then she is moving quicker, without thinking twice.
As we make it onto the porch, Coco is starting to squirm in my arms to be put down.
“Not a chance, you naughty dog. I’m not letting you go until you are behind closed doors.” This earns me a big lick across my face. Great, now I’m soaking wet, with a face covered in dog slobber.
Such a perfect first impression to meet the woman I’ve been watching from afar for months.
“It’s okay, she’ll be fine here.” Her little voice is softer now that we’re a little protected under the porch.
“Nope. I don’t trust her. Open the door and I’ll put her down inside where you’re both safe,” I say, making sure
