By the first hundred yards along the beach they were pushing the pace enough that no spare breath remained for conversation which was fine with Jessica.
When they reached the docks at the two-mile mark and moved up onto the streets, she picked up the pace another notch. Her long legs could run most guys into the ground, but Greg not only kept up, but began pushing her. Up Beach Way, she saw his shoes and socks still on the porch of The Puffin Diner, looking as if their owner had been teleported out without his footwear.
What the hell, Slater? Was that really what she’d said about such a fine meal?
No, that’s what she’d said about a man with a boyhood crush on her. Well, she’d only be here for one week, then she’d be safely gone. They couldn’t cause too much trouble in such a short time.
