And Wyatt settled beside him a moment later, pulling off his boots and kicking them aside, grass tickling his heels as he stretched out, fingers falling in the voluminous puddle of Max's crimson robes.

He swept off his hat, propping it against his hip on his open side, and the late dew washing against the back of his bare neck, through his hair, cool fingers playing down the length of his spine. Gooseflesh crawled across his skin, a tingling wave, but it wasn't particularly unpleasant.

Better than sand, at any rate.

He pillowed his head on one of his arms, and exhaled a long, easy sigh.