By the time we got there, Ryan’s navy shirt was plastered to his back and that confident stride had deteriorated into a shuffle.
“Whose idea was it to put the tables this far from the parking lot? And why is there no shade?“
I let the cooler drop in the sand next to an empty chair with a thump.
“Careful. That almost sounded like complaining.”
“I’m making an observation.”
“Is the sand still too sandy?”
He gave me a look. But Mason set his bucket down next to mine and beamed up at his father.
“Dad did much better this time.”
Ryan managed a thin smile.
“Thanks, buddy. At least somebody appreciates the effort.”
“Could You Get My Back?”
By the time I finally sat down I was sweaty and wrung out. Mason took off for the water at a dead run.
I pulled off my cover-up and got the sunscreen out of the tote.
