Ryan Hunter

off the pavement.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Dig me out of the sand. Whatever.”
    Laughing about her antics, I squatted down and started to untie her shoes for what was to come next. We weren’t done yet.
    “Hey, what the heck—” She pulled her leg away. “You don’t steal from a dying person.”
    I surrendered, lifting my hands, palms up. “Fine, then take them off yourself.”
    “What? ” Her mouth sagged open as she propped on her elbows in the sand and looked at me with wide eyes. “Why?” Then her gaze moved to the sea and her lips spread in a hopeful grin. “We’re going to take a swim now to cool off after the training?”
    “Nope ,” I said, though she put a very beguiling thought in my head right then. I could be swayed to some fooling around in the water with her. But then this would be too much of a temptation. Kisses came along with such nonsense. And I had sworn to myself that I wouldn’t do that until she knew the truth about Mitchell. After a longing glance at the sea, I faced her again and said with a firm voice that wouldn’t get me into trouble, “The little run was only warm-up. The training begins here.”
    All color disappeared from her face. “You can’t be serious.”
    “What are you willing to bet on it?”
    She grimaced and sighed, but I’d figured out by now, my word counted to her, and she slipped her shoes off to hide them with mine by the rocks. I wondered if it was just the captain she saw in me, or if she wanted to make a good impression because she saw me, the nice guy, and therefore stuck with me.
    Only a few minutes later, she made clear I wasn’t a nice guy to her as she shot me a look filled with loathing. “Do your parents know about this sadistic side of yours?”
    I remembered the first time that I had run on the beach for training. Her calves probably hurt like mad. But she had to get through this. We wanted to turn her into a kick-ass soccer player. I tugged gently at her high ponytail. “What can I say? You bring out my best side.”
    “Ah, great. I feel so special now.” Liza shoved my shoulder, and I laughed as I struggled to steady myself with my feet sinking into the soft sand. “How far are we going?” she demanded.
    “I never ran this route before, but I guess it’s about a half-mile. You know the houses at Misty Beach?”
    “Your parents own a house down there?”
    “Yep.” It was a nice little thing compared to the mansion we lived in, and I really liked to come out here after training on weekends and study or read on the wrap-around veranda. My dad had set up a porch swing for Rachel and me when we were kids, and it was the perfect place to relax and enjoy a warm summer day.
    We still had a bit of a way in front of us, and when Misty Beach came into view, I thought Liza wouldn’t endure another step. She licked her lips, and her lungs made a weird, gasping sound. “I swear I’m going to drink up the ocean,” she cried.
    “Chin up, Matthews. We’re almost there.” I grabbed her upper arm when she stumbled and didn’t let her stop just yet, dragging her along with me the last few meters. As I led her up to our bungalow, her face lit up, seriously proud of herself. And I was, too.
    There was always a set of keys in the potted plant on the broad railing. I fished them out and let us in. The door slammed shut behind us.
    While Liza stood rooted in the living room, her gaze traveling over the couch, wide-screen TV, and especially over the bookshelf, I headed into the sun-fused kitchen. From the fridge, I grabbed two bottles of water and tossed one at Liza.
    She guzzled the water down as if she came equipped with a camel hump, then she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “So, great tormentor, why did we run on the beach? Was it just for your personal pleasure to see me suffer?”
    My personal pleasure would be to see her strip naked right now . Rolling my eyes at her, I smiled. “Why do you think so badly of me?”
    “I don’t know. ” She left her spot on the wall and leaned her delicious butt against the backrest of the couch. As she folded her arms over her chest, it gave her words that sweet edge of sarcasm. “Maybe because I lost my lungs somewhere on the way? Or because my legs are on fire?”
    “Oh, come on now ,” I teased her. “We jogged over two miles and you’re still standing. That’s great. And running in the sand will strengthen your legs a lot better than the pavement. Since we only run on