Back To Us (Shore Secrets 3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

competition. If Zane needed his help, he was in. No questions asked. As for the early hour, it didn’t matter if his morning workout was in a boat or on a treadmill. But he’d be damned if he’d let Zane get away without breaking a sweat too.
    Zane’s oar snicked back into place. “I met Rick, the chair, in the campus gym last week. Barely finished introducing himself to me before he threw down the challenge. He probably thinks that since I’m new in town, I won’t be able to pull together a real team. Those science guys think they own the campus. Expects this to be a cakewalk. Since, you know, I’m in the Sociology Department, all I must do is sit behind a desk and exercise my brain...”
    “It’s all he does too,” countered Joel. “He doesn’t spend all day clawing at boulders with his bare hands.”
    “Geology, Sociology, it doesn’t matter. You’re all professors.” Gray, at least, was panting. Putting just as much effort into it as Ward. Joel, who rowed the mile to work and back every day
for fun
, probably wouldn’t feel a burn for another half hour. “The only exercise you get in the classroom is stroking an imaginary beard while you pose and ponder for your students.”
    The thought of Geology Rick pretending to be a badass irritated the hell out of Ward. Was he trying to prove to Zane he was the big man on campus? That a bunch of rocks on a shelf made Rick bigger than Zane, the rich, famous and bestselling author? Zane, who had fought his way out of tribal cults in the back beyond of nowhere with a just a gun and his considerable wits? God, Ward could not wait to help crush this idiot. “None of them would survive pulling a single shift at my distillery.”
    “Not a bad idea.” Zane tapped his fingertips together like a cartoon villain. “Humiliation as punishment. If their team loses, they all have to come help you for a day.”
    Sounded good. Ward had people pitch in all the time. It was amazing how many interested tourists were willing to kill a few hours slapping labels on his bottles. “What if you lose?”
    “Not going to happen. I’ve got a boat full of ringers. The super soldier in the back could probably win this race without the rest of us picking up an oar.”
    “I’m not a soldier anymore. I’m a chef. Why can’t you people remember that?” Joel’s testiness proved that Gray’s bad attitude was as contagious as a head cold.
    The peaceful pink tinge to the water from the sunrise would be a waste if everyone spent the whole time bitching. Time for a reset. “Let’s take five.” He pulled in his oar. Twisted around to face the mountain of muscle with coal-black curls hanging out from beneath his grape-green Mayhew Manor cap. “Look, Joel, it makes us feel cool to hang out with a guy who could probably kill all of us with just his pinkie. Don’t take that thrill away from us.”
    “I can neither confirm nor deny that rumor.”
    “Don’t bother. The truth’s often a letdown.”
    Zane’s oar clattered to the bottom of the boat as he twisted back around. “I disagree. Truth is sometimes much more awesome than what you expect. How long do you think a snail can sleep?”
    Talk about random. Ward had no idea how the professor kept so much trivial shit stored in his head, on top of all the scholarly stuff that would’ve filled any normal brain to bursting. “Seriously?”
    “Yes.” He beckoned with his palms. “Give me your best guess.”
    “A day,” grunted Gray.
    Nah. This had all the makings of a trick question with some impossible-to-believe answer. Ward stroked a hand over his three-day stubble. “Bears can hibernate for a whole winter. I’ll take the long shot. Six months.” Hell, he didn’t even know if snails lived that long.
    “Try thirty-six months,” Zane intoned slowly. “Three years!”
    Ward slapped his hands together as if clapping erasers. “Well, that cinches it. Even if Joel single-handedly brought down every terrorist organization in a