Against the Wall (Stoddard Art School Series Book 3)

Against the Wall (Stoddard Art School Series Book 3) Read Free

Book: Against the Wall (Stoddard Art School Series Book 3) Read Free
Author: Lisa A. Olech
Tags: Contemporary, Women's Fiction
Ads: Link
Eeew! Could coffee go bad? Ick! She stuck out her tongue. Where was a Dunkins when you needed one! Dumping her mug into the sink, she underlined coffee on the list. Three times.
    After rinsing out the cup, Kay twisted her long hair into a loose knot and secured it with a clip. The beach was calling. Coffee would have to wait. She loaded a tote and grabbed a towel from the tiny hall closet.
    The wide deck running along the back and up one side of the cottage was cool, and moss edged beneath the tower of pine trees that guarded the house. Granite steps led through the thick underbrush. They were chilled and damp against her bare feet.
    Bleached white and tumbled by generations of surf, the beach stones were blinding as she stepped out into the morning’s sunshine. They warmed her chilled toes. She dropped her things and headed to the water’s edge. The constant pounding of waves crushed the beach into a coarse, wet sand. Kay dug her heels into the cool rasp. She sighed gazing out to where the sky and the sea blended into one. Gorgeous.
    From there the Atlantic stretched clear to Europe. Above, gulls dipped across a perfect blue sky and screeched at one another. Lifting her arms over her head, she reached for that perfect blue and stretched in the sunshine. The crisp bite of salt air filled her lungs.
    The morning tide was rising. Each wave reached a few inches closer until its icy fingers tickled Kay’s toes. She shivered. The water was frigid. This was Maine after all. Even in August, the water would numb her feet, and you didn’t stay in long. It took a brave soul—or a foolish one—to swim in the glacial temps in May.
    Kay moved back up the beach. The waves wouldn’t reach this far, and the pebbles were smooth, dry, and blissfully warm. She pulled the sketchpad out of her bag and bent to spread out her towel.
    The bark of a dog startled her, and she straightened. A large, black Labrador retriever barreled down the beach. He didn’t appear fierce as he raced straight toward her. He almost seemed to be smiling, if dogs indeed smiled. A large pink tongue lolled to one side of its mouth. Still, strange dog, tearing at her full speed. She yelped and held the towel in front of her like a baby-blue terrycloth matador’s cape.
    The dog stopped inches away, danced a bit, and then lowered its head to its front paws while leaving its butt waving in the air. Its entire body wagged. It gave a quick, low woof , snatched the towel from her grasp, and raced past.
    “Hey!”
    The dog stopped and assumed the same position as before—this time holding its prize just out of reach. When she stepped toward it, the dog leaped backward and shook her towel as it growled playfully.
    “You brat. Give that back.” Kay laughed.
    “Shadow! No! Drop it!” the dog’s human shouted as he chased up the beach. He was a big man, wide shoulders, strong legs. He wore a red plaid flannel shirt over a navy T-shirt, both untucked from the waist of dark jeans. Dark brown hair that curled slightly on the ends, morning scruff of a beard. He didn’t look threatening, still—strange man racing in her direction, and she’d already lost her protective cape.
    “I’m so sorry,” he huffed. “He bolted as soon as he saw you.” Holding up an empty collar and leash, he shook his head. “He’s a big goof. Won’t hurt you. He just wants to play.”
    “Tug o’ war?”
    “Yeah, we play tug a lot.” He motioned to the dog that crouched staring at them both expectantly. He gave a quick scan of the area. “If I grab it, he’ll pull and shred your towel.” The man walked a few feet, picked up a bit of driftwood, and held it aloft. “Good thing he’s easily distracted.” The quick flip of his eyebrows and the mischievous glint in his light brown eyes confirmed he was as goofy as his dog.
    Holding the stick high, he jerked it as if to throw it. The dog dropped the towel and froze. Eyes locked on the prized stick, its body a coiled spring waiting to

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