PROLOGUE
COLT
“Beer.” Cody pushed a cold Corona into my hand.
I twisted the cap, stuffed it in my pocket because I’m not an animal and I don’t litter, and took a long drink.
Eric Church’s voice carried on the breeze from a beach bar a quarter mile away. Unfortunately, someone trying to sing along with him was killing the song about Talladega, but that’s what happened when the alcohol flowed.
Grinning, I moved from dry sand to the shore, where the ocean rushed up to swallow my feet. Not that I would ever say it out loud, but it felt like a hug from a long-lost friend and the small town itself. Surfside hadn’t changed. I couldn’t say the same thing about me.
My brother and I were going to enjoy one last hurrah in southern California with our toes in the sand before it was back to Texas and said toes were stuffed in boots wading through horse shit. Technically, not wading, but there was always horse shit. Cow shit. Occasionally some goat shit.
My gaze turned west. The sun had set beyond the horizon and now it was just open blackness. I could see the lights from the few boats anchored off the shore, but other than that, it wasnothing but the sound of the Pacific rolling in and out. Even the gulls were mercifully quiet.
Cody joined me in the surf just as water rolled over my feet, reaching about mid-shin before rushing right back out. Like me, he wore board shorts and a loose tee. When I’d first put them on this morning I’d felt unlike myself. It was jeans and boots on the ranch, a freshly pressed suit during business calls.
“There she is,” Cody said, voice filled with excitement.
I followed his gaze up the beach to the bonfire. Maybe a quarter mile down the stretch of sand from us, flickering orange against the dark. Sparks danced upward to the sky and beckoned us from the shore to the flame. We’d been going to this thing every summer since we were old enough to convince Dad to stop asking where we were headed. It was a weekly tradition in this place. Cold beer, warm sand, good music, and a whole lot of people who came to Surfside for the same reason we did—to breathe a little easier.
“You nervous?” I asked him.
“About what? Anderson men don’t get nervous.”
“Anderson men also don’t get giddy and yet, here you are. Giddy.”
Cody pointed at me with his beer can. “I’ve been chasing this chick all damn summer. Tonight isthenight.” He spread his hands before him as we strolled up the beach, like he was celebrating victory already. “Touchdown, baby.”
I laughed and took a drink. Too bad I didn’t have a lime. Maybe someone at the bonfire would have some.
The closer we got, the clearer the conversations and laughter became. Young ladies in bikinis mingled with guys in board shorts and not much else. Red solo cups stood propped up in the sand, full of mysterious mixtures. Everywhere I looked were beaded ankle bracelets, bucket hats, tan lines, and smiles.
“What about you?” Cody asked.
“What about me?”
“Who are you going after? Lila? Oh, what about the redhead? What’s her name, Carly? Cindy?”
I shrugged off the question. “I’m leaving my options open.”
Cody gave me a playful shove. “That’s what I’m talking about. My brother the player.”
I didn’t deny it.
“Why didn’t you ask her out earlier?” I asked. “You’re doing it at the tail end.”
“That’s exactly why I resisted. I had all summer to flirt with the ladies. Sampling here and there. But tonight, I get the one I’ve wanted all along. And by the weekend, it’ll be over without me having to break her heart.” He flashed me a grin and the blazing fire reflecting in his eyes made him look like a devil. His elbow poked me in the ribs. “The end of summer is the natural end of a relationship.”
“You’ve thought about this a lot.”
“You haven’t?”
I laughed and took another drink. “Clearly not as much as you.”
The crowd was larger than usual. I’d guess thirty people. All locals with a handful of “summer people” like us. People that got to spend their time in Surfside Cove for about three months before life took them back to the real world. Like me.
The song changed and “Old Town Road” had all the ladies dancing, red solo cups in hand, salt-water hair down and messy. I caught a whiff of tequila and knew there would be some people passed out on the beach by midnight—and someone around here probably had some limes. A couple of guys to our left were throwing a frisbee in the dark like they could actually see it.
