The Shore Thing (States of Love)

by Barley A. R.

  The Shore Thing

  By A. R. Barley

  Sunburned Delaware native Dale Seward spends his summers wrangling lifeguards and cracking crabs. His winters are a whole lot colder.

  Nico Travelli’s never even seen the ocean, but when his family’s plans for him get derailed, he realizes his future in their upscale Italian restaurants might be over, and it’s time for something new. He’s hypnotized by his first look at the Atlantic—until a wave takes him out. Luckily, Dale’s there to pull him to safety.

  Dale knows better than to fall for a summer person, but that doesn’t mean he can’t show Nico a good time. Between the ice cream cones and the put-put golf, these two lonely hearts soon find themselves in over their heads.

  But when Nico is tempted by a second chance at the life he always thought he wanted, will he be brave enough to give it up for the possibility of true love with Dale? And what does the sexy lifeguard do during the winter? In a state as small as Delaware, secrets are bound to come out.

  States of Love: Stories of romance that span every corner of the United States.

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Chapter One.

  Chapter Two.

  Chapter Three.

  Chapter Four.

  Chapter Five.

  Chapter Six.

  Chapter Seven.

  Chapter Eight.

  Chapter Nine.

  Chapter Ten.

  Chapter Eleven.

  Chapter Twelve.

  Chapter Thirteen.

  Chapter Fourteen.

  About the Author

  By A. R. Barley

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  This is dedicated to salt water, sea air, sand, and to my grandfather, who taught me how to wait for the moment between the waves.

  Author’s Note

  THE STATE of Delaware is near and dear to my heart. This story was inspired by some of my favorite activities, from cracking open fresh steamed crabs for a backyard feast to ice skating in a hotel lobby just south of the border. I hope you have the opportunity to explore some of the state’s many wonders from the salt water taffy to the ocean.

  Two more things: if you ever get caught in a strong undertow, swim parallel to the shore, and always listen to the lifeguards!

  Chapter One.

  A HEAT advisory had been in effect for the past five days. A dozen tourists had been carried off the nearby beaches, and more than a few lifeguards had been sent home early with signs of sunstroke. It was an all-hands-on-deck situation, and for the first time all summer, Dale’s ass had been stuck to the wooden bench of one of the weathered guard chairs.

  He was getting too old for this shit, a fact that was driven home when his afternoon relief showed up.

  Becky’s lips quirked upward in surprise. “What happened to Tom?”

  “Bastard didn’t put on enough sunscreen yesterday.”

  “And Richard?”

  “Ate a bad clam.”

  “Richard wasn’t eating clams last night. He had the fried chicken.” The teenager pulled her pretty pink sundress off over her head. Muscles flexed under golden skin and her full breasts bounced in a way that made every straight man on the beach promptly swallow his tongue.

  Dale kept his tongue in his mouth and his eyes on the water.

  Becky wasn’t his type.

  She started her equipment check. Her moves were quick and precise as she made sure everything was exactly where she liked it.

  Good training could only take a guard so far. His lips twitched up into a smile. It was the blonde’s work ethic and attention to detail that would put her at the top of the list to be rehired the following summer.

  Unlike Richard.

  “It’s all where it’s supposed to be.”

  “And if you’re wrong? Trust but verify, otherwise you’re going to be the one with your ass in a bucket. That’s what my trainer always said.”

  Dale grinned. “Sounds like a cynical bastard.”

  “Sounds like he needs to get laid.” Everything must have been to Becky’s satisfaction, because a moment later, she started climbing the guard stand’s old wooden frame. A bag full of cool water bottles and sunscreen was dropped onto the seat. “Seriously, when was the last time you went on a date?”

  “You were still in middle school.” Dale didn’t go on dates. In the summer he went to clubs in Ocean City and Rehoboth and got blown by tourists with slick mouths who’d forget about him by the next morning. In the winter—he didn’t want to think about the winter, not when it was still 102 in the shade.

  Fuck. He stole one of Becky’s water bottles and opened it without looking down.

  “Keep your eyes on the water.” It was what he told all the kids on the first day of lifeguard training. “That’s the only thing that matters.”

  Except the kids were getting younger every year, and he felt like he was eighty.

  One of these days, that was going to matter a whole lot.

  The water was rough and choppy today. Waves crashed angrily against the shore, and froth churned. The undertow was strong enough to have yellow warning flags dancing farther up the beach.

  Dale gulped the bottled of H2O as his gaze left the water line just long enough to check the crowd for any potential problems. With the heat advisory in effect, the beach wouldn’t fill out for another couple of hours. There were a few bleary-eyed families, a crush of teenage boys hoping for a repeat of Becky’s Baywatch routine, a chubby brunette crowding her children out of the surf… and a slim-hipped man in a forest-green button-down shirt, dark slacks, and loafers.

  Who the hell wore loafers to the beach?

  “You leaving anytime soon?” Becky asked.

  “Not planning to.”

  If he stayed, he was going to get baked in the sun’s rays. He’d dry up like an old piece of jerky, and no amount of bottled water would be enough to reconstitute him. If he went back to the office, he’d have to do paperwork. Besides, the office didn’t have a view.

  His gaze strayed back to the overdressed man with his cropped black hair and wilting collar. His shirt might not be to Dale’s taste, but the crisp lines and tailored fabrics did wonders for his lean frame and apple-shaped ass.

  No gym-built six-pack abs for this guy. Dale was willing to bet that any muscles he did have came from hard work and a youthful metabolism.

  Crap, he was young.

  That didn’t stop Dale’s breath from speeding up as he watched him undo the first few buttons on his shirt to reveal a hint of collarbone. In a man who still hadn’t removed his formal shoes, that hint of skin seemed tantalizingly intimate.

  Dale didn’t believe in love at first sight, but lust? That was a whole other matter.

  Becky was still waiting for his answer as he finished off the water bottle and reached for another one. “Consider it a spot check. I’m making sure your work’s up to par.”

  “Are you planning to drink all my water during this spot check?”

  “Maybe.” Definitely. He twisted open the cap and took a chug. “Are you going to complain about it?”

  “Nope.” There was a short pause. “Asshole.”

  Another boss would probably get offended, but Dale had been managing angsty teenagers without incident for over ten years. He took another hearty swallow of water. “Refreshing.”

  They watched the water for a while. A good-sized wave rolled across the beach, and one of the kids took a tumble. It looked like he might cry, but then he dusted himself off and went straight back in.

  The radio fuzzed and burst. The weather report interrupted the music. The he
at wave was expected to go on for another few days. Becky nudged him with her elbow. “You went to U of D, right?”

  “Back in the woolly mammoth days.” Dale’s eyes glazed over as Becky started talking about her older brother’s girlfriend, who’d recommended a studio arts class for the fall. Apparently the teacher was an easy grader and a ten out of ten in the looks department. “It’s the shoulders. You know what I’m talking about? Like Richard’s but better.”

  “I’ve got better shoulders than Richard.”

  Becky ignored him and continued to talk about her fall schedule. Apparently freshmen had to take both Intro to Writing and Speech in the first year. It was the worst—even if Dale remembered the speech class as kind of a cakewalk.

  One second she was rattling on about the benefits of retaking calculus at a college level—she didn’t want the guys to think she was too much of a nerd by skipping right over it—and the next she was vaulting off the front of the chair.

  Thud. Her feet landed solidly on the sand. Her hair flew as she reached for the rescue float.

  Dale followed her automatically. His landing was only a little smoother. Hot sand burned the bottoms of his feet, but he didn’t slow down… not while Becky’s legs were spooling out in front of her as she raced toward the water.

  There. A splash of green fabric against the dark blue of the ocean. Dale’s speed increased as he focused in on the distressed swimmer. He must have been facing the wrong way when a wave hit because he’d slammed down into the beach. Now his body was twisting awkwardly as the dangerous undertow dragged him away from shore.

  A dark head popped up out of the water. He gasped for air. Long limbs still fully encased in heavy clothes reached for the sky. “Swim to the side!” Becky called as she entered the water. “Parallel to the shore.”

  Dale didn’t bother wasting his breath.

  Shock—or plain old stupidity—made the man deaf to any shouted advice.

  Muscles tightened as he dove under the next wave. He let the undertow help him along as he began his stroke. Becky had reached the water first, but Dale was the fastest swimmer. He’d been doing it all his life. When he finally broke through to the surface, he was in front of her… and the swimmer was down. His body was hanging limp. A wave crashed against him, and he didn’t struggle.

  Adrenaline surged through Dale’s veins, his heart was beating double-time, but he needed to keep calm. He took a swallow of air as he continued to push forward. His freestyle was smooth, even, and faster than most. It had won him plenty of ribbons as a kid—and a place on his college swim team—and now it was going to help him save a stranger’s life.

  His fingers connected with rough cloth. His eyes blinked against the salt water. His movements were automatic as he sorted through the half-dozen different rescue strokes he’d learned over the years and picked the one that would work best for the situation—adjusting when he realized the swimmer wasn’t unconscious after all.

  An elbow connected with his gut, and a heel slammed into his knee, making him see stars. “Stop struggling.”

  “Fuck off,” a salt-swollen voice snarled. “I don’t need help.”

  A wave lapped over them, and the swimmer sputtered as he struggled to regain his breath. Dale took the opportunity to tighten his grip and start swimming parallel to the beach.

  One. Two. Three. He counted each stroke in his head, feeling a deep pang of relief when Becky finally reached them with the float.

  Together the two of them cut in toward the shore. A burst of bright red flashed in the corner of Dale’s eye as lifeguards signaled one another up and down the beach. The semaphore was crisp and certain. The team he’d worked so hard to put in place acted like a well-oiled machine as they reported the news: “Swimmer in distress. Lifeguard in the water.”

  His feet connected with the bottom. The fully clothed swimmer was starting to struggle again. “Stay on the float.”

  “I can stand up.”

  “Sorry, kid, not until we’re on dry land.”

  There was a sharp snort, and then Dale found himself with his arms full of lean muscle and boyish charm. Damn. He was beautiful, with dark curls, olive-toned skin, and sharp cheekbones. Some might consider his nose a little too large, but combined with bowed lips and long black lashes, it added up to a strong Roman profile. His nostrils flared, and his gaze sharpened.

  Dale’s heart slammed into his chest. The younger man might be eight inches shorter than him—the right size to tuck under his chin—but their bodies connected in all the right places. Heat thrummed through his body, and his cock plumped.

  Time to get out of the water. He turned and started maneuvering him toward the shore. It was slow going with his friend’s heavy slacks dragging in the salt water.

  What the hell had he been thinking to go into the water in his heavy clothes? Why hadn’t he paid attention to the yellow flags that dotted the shore?

  Did he not recognize the danger?

  Or did he just not care?

  Dale tightened his grip on his arm. The water was only waist-high now. He yanked the fully dressed young man closer against him. His head dipped slightly. His lips brushed against delicate skin. “Get ready to move.” It was the same commanding tone he used when training baby lifeguards. For a moment he thought it might be too much, but then the man relaxed back against him.

  A set of small waves rolled past them and then the break he’d been waiting for.

  “Move.”

  Together they put on a burst of speed and raced up onto the shore. The semaphores were still flying, but Dale managed to signal the nearest guard with a wave of his hand. There was no sense calling the EMTs for someone who was upright and snarling.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Becky asked, the waver in her voice the only sign of nerves since she’d dropped off the edge of the lifeguard station. Good girl.

  “It’s all good,” Dale lied. “Billy’s going to call his buddies—”

  “Not Billy,” the guy croaked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “My name’s Nico.”

  “I like Billy better.” Dale winked. “You know, like Billy the Kid?”

  Nico’s lips pressed together in a thin line. He obviously didn’t seem impressed with Dale’s particular brand of humor. Too bad. A nice ass and great cheekbones would only get a man so far in life. To go the rest of the way, he needed a sense of humor.

  Dale shrugged. “Nico is going to call his friends and get a lift to the emergency clinic—”

  “I don’t need to go to the emergency clinic.”

  “Come on, we’ll find your group and—”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Dale’s teeth dug into his bottom lip. “If you’re not a kid, then don’t act like one. You got thrown around in the water. That earns you a ride with your buddies to the emergency clinic. Understand?”

  Gold and hazel flecks sparked in gray eyes like the lightning in a storm, but then he stopped fighting. Darkness welled up inside him. The signs were small. A furrowed brow and a stiff expression that wasn’t quite a smile. He was obviously used to hiding his emotions, but Dale got the feeling that one more small push would break him into little pieces.

  Shit.

  Okay, time to work the problem—like they’d taught him back in business school. If he couldn’t get through to Nico, maybe he could talk to the man’s friends. He glanced around. The only person even looking in their direction was the dark-haired mother with a baby on her hip.

  “You know him?” he called over, but she was shaking her head before he even finished the question.

  All right, so Nico was alone. He still needed to go to the clinic. Dale tapped his arm. “You don’t have someone to take you to the clinic? I can be your buddy. I’m heading that direction anyway.” If he skipped on his paperwork and went home for the day, which was sounding more and more appealing by the minute. “You got a car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Keys?”

  N
ico rummaged through his pockets and came up empty. “I’ve got a spare,” he offered after a minute. “Behind my license plate.”

  At least Dale wouldn’t need to call for a tow. “What kind of car?”

  “A blue Volvo.”

  “Good.” He nodded at Becky. “You need to get back in the chair.”

  “Yes, sir.” She gave a mini-salute.

  “Drop his car off on your way home?”

  The salute turned into a middle finger. “Sure thing.”

  Good enough. Dale grinned at his new buddy. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Two.

  IT HAD been an accident.

  Nico had only intended to wade in the water, but one minute he’d been staring out at the horizon and the next he’d been slapped by a wave and dragged under.

  Story of his freaking life.

  His pants swish-squished as he followed his rescuer up the beach. The hot sand burned his bare feet, but he didn’t know whether to go slower or faster.

  The lifeguard in front of him would probably know, but he already thought Nico was a grade A moron. Better to bite his lip and concentrate on getting to the road. He put one step solidly in front of the other, only letting out a small sigh of relief when they finally reached the cool refuge of the wooden boardwalk.

  A big blond head swung in his direction. Full lips pressed together in a thin line. “Shit. Where are your shoes?”

  “In the water.”

  “Uh-huh.” The man shifted in his comfortable-looking flip-flops. He’d retrieved them from the guard stand along with a ratty backpack and a plain white T-shirt that did nothing to disguise his broad shoulders and sculpted abs. “I’ve got an extra pair of shoes in my truck. They probably don’t fit—they’re definitely not leather loafers—but you can have them if you want.”

  “Thanks.”

  The wind whistled through the long dune grasses. Overhead a seagull dipped and cried, calling out to its companions. As they walked, the roar of the ocean was slowly replaced by the squeak and rattle of cars on the coastal highway.