“Whoa, that’s deep,” Cash said dryly.
“All I’m saying is, quantity eventually kills the quality. So be warned, a few more months and this super-duper sex you’re bragging about? It’ll be nothing but the old Metallica shirt you don’t wear anymore.”
“Jen will never become an old shirt.” Cash’s voice oozed with confidence. “I guarantee it.”
Seth kept his mouth shut, but he was totally with Dylan on this one. Regular sex with the same chick was bound to get dull. At least in his experience.
“Anyway, let’s do this thing.” Cash glanced up at the sky, wary. “I don’t like the look of those clouds.”
They’d trained on this beach for years, so the workout that ensued was one Seth could do in his sleep. The sky remained overcast during the four-mile run, but once they hit the water, a light rain began to fall and the water grew choppier. Although the waves were nothing to freak out about, when Cash called out and suggested they head back, nobody protested.
They were a mile out, making their way to shore when all hell broke loose. A crack of thunder exploded in the air. The sky grew darker and darker in a matter of seconds, an onslaught of rain blasting out of those black clouds like water from a broken dam.
Gritting his teeth, Seth concentrated on swimming in a straight line, a damn-near impossible feat when the wind was determined to blow his body right back into the middle of the ocean. He was gasping for air by the time he reached the shore, thoroughly exhausted as he staggered out of the water, Cash hot on his heels.
He heaved himself onto the sand, rain and seawater dripping down his bare chest. Squinting, he studied the angry waves, experiencing a spark of relief when he spotted Dylan’s blond head bobbing in the water, powerful arms slicing through the current.
After Dylan and Jackson made it to shore, the foursome stared at each other for a long moment, then tipped their gazes up at the sky while the rain soaked them to the bone.
“Holy shit balls,” Dylan exclaimed. “It’s the fucking Apocalypse.”
“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” Cash shouted over the wind.
Getting back to their cars proved to be a whole other workout. The rain fell harder and the wind blew faster, providing a wall of resistance each time Seth took a step. The thunder was so loud he couldn’t hear his own thoughts, and each time a bolt of lightning sizzled over the furious ocean, it was easy to see that the waves were gathering in size and speed.
When he finally stumbled up to his Jeep, he let out a breath heavy with relief.
Cash and Jackson raced to the SUV in the neighboring space. As Cash unlocked the driver’s door, he glanced over at Seth. “Text when you get home so I know you made it there alive,” he called.
“Same goes for you two,” Seth called back.
He and Dylan practically dove into the Jeep. Fortunately, the top was up, so they were spared having to drive home in a torrential downpour. Still, they were both soaking wet and cursing up a blue streak as Seth started the engine.
“That came out of nowhere,” he said, shaking his head in amazement.
“Looks like that annoying weatherman was actually right for the first time in his life.” Dylan paused. “He’s probably at the studio, gloating up a storm…ha. Get it? Gloating up a storm… You know, kind of like the storm that’s raging outside this Jeep?”
Seth stared at his friend. “Yeah, I got it the first time you said it, and it wasn’t funny then either.”
He reversed out of the parking space and turned onto the main road, the windshield wipers working so furiously he was surprised they didn’t fly away. Raindrops battered the roof of the car, so loud it was like the Jeep was being hit with an unending stream of golf balls. Luckily, he and Dylan only lived five minutes away. Visibility was totally shot, and the vehicle must have hydroplaned half a dozen times on the short trip home, but Seth got them there in one piece.
He parked in the driveway and killed the engine, then gazed at the scary black chaos beyond the windshield before shooting Dylan a sidelong look. “Ready?”
Dylan sighed. “Yup.”
Seth reached for the door handle. “See you on the other side, brother.”
They both hopped out of the Jeep like their asses were on fire.
The second he was out in the open, Seth was hit by a gust of wind that almost knocked him right off his feet—and for a man who stood at six-three and boasted two hundred pounds of solid muscle, that spoke volumes about the intensity of the wind.
By the time he and Dylan made it through the front door of the house, he was exhausted again. When he took a step, water spilled out of his sneakers and formed a huge puddle on the hardwood floor.
“You think we should board up the windows?” Dylan winced as the wall behind him rattled from the storm’s assault.