Dune's Weimaraner made an appearance shortly thereafter, trotting in from the back porch. Ghost had sniffed out the pizza. The dog loved pizza, but pizza didn't love him. He had gastrointestinal issues. The dog passed gas when they fed him spicy food.

Mac was feeding Ghost pepperoni at that very moment. "No more, dude," Dune warned.

"Dog's hungry." Mac snuck him another bite.

"Ghost sleeps in your room tonight," Dune stated as he lowered himself onto the couch and reached for a big slice with the works.

They ate in silence, polishing off all three pizzas.

The moon had lowered behind the orange grove by the time the men crashed. The sun would rise in two hours. Dune and Zane could live on little sleep, but Mac required six hours. Less than six and he was one cranky bastard.

They cleaned up and turned off the lights. Dune gathered a quilt from the hall closet and tucked in his grandfather. He then headed to his bedroom.

He stripped down, took a quick shower, and crawled naked into the double bed. Being six foot six, his feet hung off the end and he had little room to stretch out. He'd have a crick in his neck by morning.

His last thought before sleep claimed him was of sweet, shy Sophie Saunders. The creak of his bedroom door wakened him a short time later. Dune knew without looking who had disturbed him. Mac was ditching the dog.

He stuck his head inside and muttered, "Fart-a-roni." He ducked out.

Dune heard the click of Ghost's nails on the hardwood floor before his dog hopped on the bed and took over the end. Dune shoved open the window on the wall over his head. Ghost was downwind.

Eight forty-five a.m. and Sophie Saunders breathed in the pungent scents of the boardwalk as she strolled toward the T-shirt shop. She inhaled the freshly made coffee from Brews Brothers and the sugary sweetness of oven-warm doughnuts at The Bakehouse. Outdoor vendors teased beachgoers with cinnamon churros and caramel funnel cakes.

Sophie felt at home here, far more than she did at Saunders Shores. Her heritage oftentimes smothered her. She'd spoken to her mother that very morning, and their conversation had unsettled her.

Maya so seldom dropped by unannounced, yet she'd arrived in tennis whites with a purpose. She had a standing nine-thirty lesson three days a week at the country club with the tennis pro.

Her mom was a beautiful woman, classically featured and perfectly coiffured. She was a noted philanthropist and kept her finger on the pulse of the family.

Trace could do no wrong.

Sophie was seldom right.

Her mother had made small talk while Sophie finished a slice of cinnamon raisin toast and sipped a cup of hibiscus tea. Of course, her mother had broached her favorite topic the moment Sophie finished. She recalled their conversation now.

"Your father and I were discussing your future at dinner last night," her mother said, bringing up the subject.

Sophie had inwardly cringed. Surely they could've found a more interesting topic, something less boring and bland.

"You've been spending an inordinate amount of time on the Barefoot William boardwalk," Maya noted. "We were hoping you'd give the Shores a second chance."

Her mother's suggestion gave Sophie a stomachache. "I'll give it some thought," was all she could manage to say.

Her words had appeased Maya for the moment. She'd departed shortly thereafter.

Sophie knew in her heart that she would never return to the Shores. She couldn't think of one boutique or cafe owner who would willingly welcome her. She'd be riding on the Saunders name alone.

More than life itself, she wanted to step outside her family's shadow and be her own person. Her niche was out there somewhere. She just had to find it.

She entered Three Shirts, leaving all thoughts of the Shores outside on the Barefoot William boardwalk. Jenna Cates waved at her from the back room. "I'm sorting board shorts," she called out. "Come talk to me."

Sophie headed toward her. The T-shirt shop was one of her favorite stores. It smelled of cotton. She liked the casual, yet hip, beach atmosphere. There was no need for overhead lighting. The morning sun shot through the front window, warming the hardwood floors.

She found Jenna with a box cutter in one hand and a pair of board shorts in the other. Colorful surfboards decorated a black background. The pattern was intricate, yet masculine. "Shorts from Dune's designer beachwear," Jen told Sophie. "They sell so fast I can't keep them in stock."

Sophie was aware of his collection for men. Beach Heat was his brand. He modeled for magazines promoting his line. His clothes were all about summer, all about looking cool on a hot day.

She'd purchased one of his California print shirts, a pale green, short-sleeved button-down designed with a turquoise wave. The shirt was too big for her, but that didn't matter. She wore it around her house. On occasion, she slept in it.

Should Dune retire from professional volleyball, he had retail to fall back on. He also sponsored volleyball camps for kids all across the country. He traveled often, speaking on sportsmanship.

"Did you have fun at the Sneaker Ball?" Jen asked as she cut up a cardboard box.

It had been the best night of her life. Sophie touched her fingertips to her lips and smiled. She could still feel Dune's kiss. She looked forward to seeing him again. They had a bet. One of them would collect on the wager later today.

She responded with a nondescript remark. "Great music and delicious food."

Jen glanced over her shoulder and grinned. "Was my cousin a good date?"

A rush of warmth rose from her toes. Sophie felt her cheeks heat. Dating was new to her. How much should she share?

"That good, huh?" Jen teased her.

"How'd you know?"

"You're blushing. That's a dead giveaway."

"How was Mac?" Sophie asked.

Jen pulled a face that made Sophie laugh. "The worst date ever," she said. "The man's got crazy written all over him. His life never skips a beat, whereas mine often stalls and needs a jump start. I was tired last night after the ball and wanted to go straight home. Mac wanted to stop by the Blue Coconut and shoot pool. We argued."

She stacked the cardboard scraps into a neat pile, and continued with, "I told him to pull over; then I threatened to walk the rest of the way home. The ass actually stopped on the side of the road. He reached across me and opened my door."

That didn't sound good, Sophie thought. "Did you get out?" she asked.

"I started to, but Mac pulled me back." Jen's own cheeks flushed. "He had the balls to tell me to shut up. When I didn't, he kissed me. I bit his bottom lip."

Mac had kissed Jen. Sophie liked that part. Jenna's bite, not so much. "You got home okay?" She was curious.

Jen nodded. "Once I was safely out of the pickup, I informed him that I never wanted to see him again and that he was barred from the shop."

"Barred, really?" Sophie's stomach sank.

"Mac's only in town for a month," Jen said. "He should have enough shirts to last him, if he does laundry. I don't need his business."

Sophie wished their night had gone better.

She had a wager to win.

"I have a date tonight," Jen continued on a happier note. "Kyle Wyatt. He delivers packages for Sky Air. He dropped off several boxes this morning, then asked me to attend Twilight Bazaar at the Civic Center. The indoor flea market draws farmers, professional artists, and crafters, along with elementary school exhibits. It's very casual. It's my assistant's day off. Since store owners can set their own hours, I plan to close at six. Kyle will pick me up at seven."

"Nice," was all Sophie could manage to say. Jenna wouldn't be available if Mac showed up at the store later today. She'd moved on to someone else. Mac was no longer in the running. Sophie found that disappointing.

"What would you like me to do first?" she asked, getting down to business.

"Become familiar with the shop," Jen said. "Once you know the layout, select a T-shirt. I wear and advertise my tees. You can change in the dressing room."

Sophie paused, looked around. Not a customer in sight.

"Mondays tend to be slow," Jen said, explaining. "I'd planned to do some rearranging. We can move the circular racks around and change out the displays. I bought crabbing nets to replace the clotheslines stretched across the ceiling. Nicole loaned me two mannequins from The Jewelry Box. I want to set them at the front of the store and dress them in beachwear.

"I'm expanding my merchandise, too," she continued. "The new inventory includes boardwalk posters, beach chairs, sand globes, and children's beach-themed coloring books, all still in boxes. They'll need to be unpacked."

Sophie faced a busy day. She was excited to get started. Selecting a T-shirt was daunting. There were so many to choose from. If You Can't Stand the Heat, Stop Tickling the Dragon made her smile. Her gaze widened and she pushed past Brass Balls beneath My Mini-Skirt.

The silly, wild, and naughty slogans weren't right for her, although Jenna wore them well. Her friend's bright yellow belly shirt imprinted with No Tan Lines fit her. She loved sports and the outdoors, and was evenly tanned.

Sophie finally chose a conservative navy polo scripted with Barefoot Beach to go with her tan slacks. Jen nodded her approval when Sophie stepped from the dressing room.

"What's next?" she asked.

"We move the circular racks," Jen said. "They're on casters with a lever brake." She set their project in motion.

Once the racks were in place, they went through every shirt, organizing them by size and brand. They set up a special display for Dune's beachwear.

"The shop's coming together." Jen stood with her hands on her hips, taking it all in. She appeared pleased. "Let's stretch the crab nets next."

"I hope you have a tall ladder," Sophie said. "We're both on the short side."

Jen nodded toward the front door. "Lucky for us, our man of height just arrived."

Sophie looked up. Her breath caught and her chest squeezed. Dune Cates stood in the doorway. He wore a plain gray T-shirt, jeans, and an easy smile. "Too early for lunch?" He held three take-out containers. "I stopped at the diner and ordered sandwiches."

"Hot or cold?" Jen asked.

"Molly's specialty peanut butter and jelly." Dune set the containers down on the front counter.

"Work first, eat second," Jenna directed her team. "I want to change out my ceiling while you're here. I'll get the step stool." She headed to the storeroom.

Sophie stared at Dune and he stared back. She lowered her gaze to his lips. She relived their kiss, so warm, so firm, so perfect. She blushed and his smile broke.

He crossed to her in three strides. "How's the volunteering?" he asked.

"It's going well." Better, now that he was here.

He leaned in and his scent embraced her: sunshine, lime, and man. "Any sign of Mac?" he whispered near her ear like a fellow conspirator.

His breath fanned her cheek, drawing goose bumps on her neck. She shivered, and he pulled back slightly. "Not yet, but it's early." She felt confident about their bet.

Dune scratched his chin. "You're aware they had a bad date."

"So I heard." She had, in detail.

"Mac's going to keep his distance."

She stood firm. "He'll show."

"You're a romantic, not a realist."

"The heart knows what the mind has yet to realize."

"Mac's already made up his mind about Jen. He'll keep the length of the boardwalk between them."

"What's Mac up to this morning?" asked Sophie, curious.

"He's nursing a hangover," Dune told her. "He was having breakfast when I left my grandfather's house. He poured coffee on his cornflakes."

"He wasn't drunk when he left the Sneaker Ball," Sophie recalled.

"Mac and Zane tied one on afterward."

"The reason?" she pressed.

"A drinking game brought out the LandShark."

A game. Men talked sports, cars, and women. Had Mac discussed Jenna? she wondered. She wanted to ask Dune, but intuitively knew he wouldn't discuss his partner further. He wouldn't give her any advantage as far as their wager.

He straightened, then shoved his hands in his jean pockets and said, "Guess I'll hang out and collect my win."

He planned to stick around. She liked that. A lot.

"Over here, Dune," Jenna called. She set the step stool near the dressing rooms. "The hooks can be twisted and pulled. Sophie and I will wrap the clothesline as it comes down."

Wrapping the line sounded easier than it was. Beside her, Jen formed the perfect lasso, while Sophie's own rope twisted around her wrist and the loops dangled at different lengths. She caught Dune watching her and wished she wasn't so clumsy.

"No lasso for you," he teased her. "Let's start over." He took the clothesline from her, shook it out, and began anew. "Hold out your hands."

She did, and he used her wrists as if wrapping yarn. They soon had a perfect circle. She sighed, relieved.

Jen hauled the rope to the back. She then patted her stomach and said, "I'm hungry."

Dune gathered the Styrofoam containers and Sophie followed him to the back room. The sun winked outside the window, casting them in silhouette. He was so tall and muscled she could fit inside his shadow.

Jenna grabbed paper plates, napkins, and canned sodas. They dined on PB&J made Molly-style. Her sandwiches were one of a kind. She took one slice of rye and one of pumpernickel, then spread crunchy peanut butter on both. She added grape jelly and strawberry preserves. The sandwich was thick and tasted great.

Dune drew back a chair and sat down across from Sophie. He opened up the snacks and offered her three different flavors of chips. He stretched out his legs, bumping Sophie's knees beneath the table.

The memory of them sitting on the counter stools at Molly's came to mind. His knee had accidentally pressed between her thighs, a jolt to her senses. They touched again now. A bit more subtly, yet equally arousing.