“Why did you say it like that?”
“Uh, no reason. Just wanted to surprise him later, is all.”
I glared at him. “You were lying, weren’t you?”
“’Course not!” He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Darryl used to joke that during the full moon he turns into a shark, but when you watch him swim, you’d almost believe it. He’s clumsy as hell on land, but right at home in the water.”
To my relief, the huge werewolf in the distance smiled and waved up at us, and we waved back.
“I’m gonna go get more beer. One case ain’t gonna be enough,” Roscoe said as he closed the cooler. “Stay here and watch the goods.”
I stood and reached into my backpack. “I can start grilling.”
Roscoe snatched the backpack away from me. “I’m gonna hold onto these.”
“I’m not an idiot, Roscoe.”
“I’ve got brats and weisswurst in here. You’ll just turn ’em into expensive charcoal.” He slipped an arm through one of the straps. “I’ll be back in a bit. I’m gonna get some buns, sauerkraut, and mustard.”
“Get ketchup too,” I added. Roscoe looked back and wrinkled his nose. “What the hell is wrong with ketchup?”
“You don’t put ketchup on these.”
“I hate sauerkraut and mustard,” I said, looking beyond Roscoe at a human lifeguard talking with Darryl.
“Of course you do,” Roscoe muttered as he turned away. “’Cause you’ve got the palate of a nine-year-old.” He padded along the boardwalk before disappearing into the palmettos, and I took another sip of beer, turning my attention back to the water. Darryl wasn’t in the seat, having been replaced by the human lifeguard.
I jumped when a contemplative hum growled from behind me.
“Roscoe snagged himself a half-turn,” Darryl said, stumbling over the railing of the deck. Roscoe was right—he was kind of clumsy when he walked, which made sense considering the guy looked to be around nine feet tall. “Where’d he go, anyway?”
“He went to get more beer and gross condiments.” I pointed to the cooler. “Want one, or do you have to go back to work?”
“Nah, I only filled in for someone this morning.” The werewolf took two bottles in one massive hand and closed the lid before sitting at the table next to me. “You probably already know my name. What’s yours?”
“Cody,” I replied, now nervously gulping my beer, hoping to take some of the edge off.
He extended his hand. “You look like you’re having a rough time.”
“What?”
“Well, for one, you’re with Roscoe. Plus, you just have a fresh look,” he replied, opening a bottle with his claws. “Kind of confused, embarrassed, and a little worried. Like a baby deer.”
I closed my overshirt a little more. “I’ve only been like this for a few days.”
“We’ve all gone through it,” he said with a sharp grin. “You’re at the beach and it’s a hot day. You should take your shirt off and enjoy it.”
“I’m good. You know, you should probably wear some shorts if you’re going to be right up on people when you rescue them.”
“I swim better without them.” Darryl took another drink. “Clothing on werewolves is kinda stupid, don’t you think?” He pointed at his junk, which was mostly hidden by a thick patch of fur just like Roscoe’s. “It’s not like you can see everything.”
“You know, that’s something I’ve often wondered about. How the hell do you guys keep… things so hidden?”
“Let me show you something.” Darryl grabbed what I thought was a tuft of fur, but it was actually a tube of fur-covered flesh. It kind of resembled a dog’s but was longer and thicker, and blended in almost seamlessly as if it weren’t there at all. “When we’re in the mood, the skin slips up like this.” He grabbed the glans of his dick and gently pushed the loose sheath toward his pelvis revealing a long, floppy, dark brown cock.
I glanced around to see if anyone was watching as the werewolf practically fondled himself. “Dude, there are people out here!”
“It’s a lesson in anatomy.”
