Know Your Heart: A New Zealand - Tracey Alvarez Page 0,27
it. He couldn’t blame her. With a grin that was more a gritting of teeth, Glen opened his door and climbed out. “Hop over here. I’ll push.”
She climbed over the center console, lips curving into a knowing smirk as she settled into his seat.
“When I’m in position and yell go, give it some gas—but not too much, right?”
“Gotcha.” She wriggled her butt into a more comfortable position, which did nothing toward lowering his thundering heartbeat.
He shut the door and walked to the back of the car, muttering, “Great. Super. Frickin’ wonderful.”
Both rear tires had scooped deep trenches out of the sand. Unless he suddenly developed superpowers, pushing would have the effect of a solitary ant attempting to shift a peanut.
Savannah buzzed down the window, signaling with a wave that she was ready. Glen positioned himself behind the right hand tire, which didn’t appear to be sunk as deep into the sand as the left did.
Bracing his hands under the bumper, he yelled, “Go!”
Wheels spun and sand flew. At least half a cubic ton of it sprayed over him. He hollered at her to stop, wondering if she could even hear him over the revving engine. The car stalled. Glen propped himself against the bumper with his eyes shut, scraping sand off his face.
The car door slammed, and a few seconds later, she pressed a cool bottle of water into his hands.
“Here, take this.”
“Can’t see to open it.” He turned his face away from her and spat out granules of sand.
He heard the sharp crick of a plastic cap being cracked open.
“Keep your eyes closed.”
Her palm pressed against his chest, branding him through his tee shirt. Her breath hissed softly and the scent of berries grew stronger.
“Hold still.”
Something warm and pliable brushed against his biceps, but before his brain could process what that might be, cold water trickled onto his forehead and over his face. She swiped sand off his cheek, the touch of her fingertips sending hot darts of sensation to his lower belly.
“Almost done.”
Her voice was a silky murmur his junk decided was a come-on. Bad junk. The palm on his chest disappeared.
“You can open your eyes now. I think I got all the sand off.”
Glen cracked opened his eyes. He muttered a gruff, “Thanks,” and took the offered bottle. He considered upending the cold water over his crotch, but nope, didn’t want to draw attention to the bulge in his shorts. He gulped down the rest of the water and focused his mind on the dullest thing he knew—his father’s law lectures.
“So, what now?”
Her former sassiness had vanished, probably at the same time she’d realized they were stranded here with the tide coming in.
“Now we walk.”
“Back to the fishermen’s cottages?”
“Someone there should be able to give us a tow.”
She worried her bottom lip with an eye tooth. “But your car…”
Waves tumbled over the outcropping of rocks where they’d stood fishing, moving steadily closer to where rock pools met beach.
“The tideline looks as if it doesn’t come up this high. The car will be fine.”
“So, we’ll find a friendly fisherman and be on our way.”
Glen shook his head. “Even if we get a tow, we won’t get past the reef until the next outgoing tide.”
Which was hours away. Hours. Away.
Savannah swiped her knuckles across her mouth, and he couldn’t help following them like a dog tracking a bone.
“Nate will never let you live this down.”
“We finally agree on something.” He moved away from her, brushing the sand from his tee shirt and shorts. “You’d better grab your shirt. It’s starting to cool down.”
Because if Savannah met an old fisherman in only her swimsuit and cut-off jeans, they could be out of a ride when the guy went into cardiac arrest.
Chapter 5
They followed their tire tracks, gulls wheeling overhead, silvery waves hissing and retreating on the beach. The light changed hue from hazy blue to warm gold as dusk grew closer.
Glen tried to see, hear, and smell everything at once in case he needed to incorporate a beach scene into his book—at the same time remaining hyper-aware of Savannah at his side. She’d said little since he’d locked the car and they’d set out along the beach. He ran a hand through his hair, grimacing as grit drifted out and sprinkled onto his shoulders. Shower and cold beer were at the top of his to-do list once he got home.
“That was nice, what you did for Drew today,” he said finally.
She faltered, breaking the rhythm of their steps along the