Page 32 of Under the Radar
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Mac used valet parking for the promenade that ran parallel to the beach. He opened the trunk and hoisted a backpack with beach supplies onto his shoulder. Mo tossed in her purse and slammed it shut.
He slipped his hand in Mo’s as they started walking. “Do you need anything at the concessions before we hit the sand?”
“Good lord, no. I ate every food group at the diner and had a double helping of the waffles. I’m carb-crashing. I’d love to lie on the beach and take a nap. You?”
“A nap sounds good to me too.” No kidding. His nerves were shot to hell after the café guy and the spectacled woman outside the shoe store. A little recuperation time on the warm sand sounded like a great way to spend the afternoon.
They rented an umbrella, slathered sunscreen on each other, found a comfortable cuddle position, and only minutes later their conversation dwindled to a quiet exchange of synchronized breathing.
Mac dreamed of children laughing.
And lifeguard whistles intermittent with the chatter of seagulls.
The steady lullaby of waves and engines far away numbed his thoughts.
And the heat from the sun beckoned him deeper.
The jingle from an ice cream truck reminded him of the time his dad bought him gelato at a beach in Italy, the memory a fleeting mirage.
He was so comfortable.
The banner plane in the sky hummed in agreement.
And the engines grew louder.
He could picture the sand whirling behind the tires.
There were too many engines.
Mac’s eyes popped open.
He untangled himself from Mo and rolled over to look around. Several blocks away a row of beach vehicles drove toward them. They weaved among the beachgoers, beckoning to each other with hand signals. They were definitely searching for something or someone.
Mac scanned the beach for the lifeguard chair. A placid lifeguard sat under his umbrella. There was no emergency or the lifeguard would be standing and signaling with his flags.
He nudged Mo. “C’mon, honey, wake up. We’re getting sunburned. Let’s go in the water for a few minutes.”
“Wh—what?” Mo propped herself up on her elbows. “We weren’t asleep very long. I’m so comfy. You go in. I’ll join you in a minute.” She put her head back down on the blanket.
Mac nudged her thigh with his foot. “You can nap again once we cool off, cupcake. I don’t want you getting sunburned.”
“Ooh.” She sat up and stretched. “It isn’t even that hot out here.”
Mac glanced right and left. The vehicles were only two blocks away. “Reardon, I get hot every time I see your face.” Cheesy, yeah, but he wasn’t aiming for heartfelt at the moment. He scooped her into his arms and jogged toward the water. If he moved fast, he’d have her out beyond the breakers by the time the vehicles reached their blanket.
Mo screamed. “You’re not going to drop me in the water, are you? Oh, please, Mac, don’t! I swear, I won’t like you anymore. I detest being thrown in.” She wrapped her arms around his neck so tight he was in a chokehold.
He slowed his jog to a walk as he entered the water. “I promise not to throw you in as long as you let me breathe.” The shallow sandbar was sure to drop off in a few yards. “We’ll go under together, okay? Ready, set…” The sandbar disappeared under his left foot and a huge wave crashed over their heads as they slipped under and into the gentle swells beyond the breakers.
The water temperature was like a bath.
As they surfaced, Mo touched her head. “Crap. I still have my Orioles cap on. Next time you need a quick dip, please give me more warning. This black hat is a special edition from a few years ago.”
“I’ll get you another one. I know the owner’s wife. She’s a real nice lady. She’ll find one for me.” Mac pulled her close as the beach vehicles neared their blanket. He almost wished that his burner phone had signaled him. At least then, he’d have a reason for the sense of hyper-alertness controlling his day.
“That’s not the point. The point is to take care of the hat in the first place,” she said with a grin. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Mo kissed his cheek. “That’s okay. It’ll dry out.”