Page 14 of The One for Forever

We get a few curious glances at our formal wear as we walk, but most people take it in stride. West Oaks is a small town in some ways, but we’re close enough to Los Angeles that we have new people constantly streaming in and out. Plus, a cadre of wealthy people with mansions in the hills.

My eyes linger as Rex undoes the top few buttons of his shirt. He glances over, and I face forward.

“We’re not going far,” he says. “Are your shoes bothering you?”

“Nah, I’m good.” I had to put my heels back on, but the ache has dulled. Rex has always had that effect on me. Everything hurts less when he’s around, being kind and attentive.

Of course, that usually causes adifferentsort of pain to throb in my chest. But I’m not thinking about that right now. That was Old Quinn.

I put a little extra strut into my walk, as if this is the kind of thing I do all the time. Just taking a stroll by the ocean in stilettos and a floor-length gown. The glamorous life of a criminal lawyer.Ha.

But this night has gotten surreal anyway. Might as well play it up.

It was bizarre enough for that guy to crash the event with his perfume bottle to shout about Amber Printz. I’m guessing he meant to spray Lana and me with that cloying scent. He probably wanted to get arrested in order to make some kind of statement about the justice system. Or just to impress Amber.

Don’t get me wrong, it was unnerving, especially when Rex took the guy down like a linebacker and we had no idea what was happening.

But even with the anonymous threat Lana mentioned and the perfume guerrilla attack, I don’t feel scared. Because I trust Rex to protect me. Like he said, it’s his job. And I know he’s good at it. He’s protected me even when I didn’t know. Even back in high school.

Which, let’s face it, made me swoon so hard a few minutes ago I nearly lost my balance. If he’d noticed, I would’ve blamed these shoes.

What I don’t trust is my stupid heart. I’m so sick of falling for this man. I can’t afford to get swept away in childish fantasies again. Yet here I am, walking by the beach with him, lights twinkling all around us. Like this is some perfect date out of a movie.

If he was ever going to notice me as a potential romantic interest, it would’ve happened by now. But I don’t think Rex notices women much, period. In all the years since his wife passed, I’ve never seen him with a girlfriend. It would’ve torn my poor, hopeless heart to shreds if I had. But in a way, it was even worse that I’d never had the misfortune. Because that meant Rex didn’t have anyone. He didn’t want anyone else. Lydia was his lifelong love, someone who could never be replaced.

It would be romantic if it wasn’t such a downer. I wanted him to be happy. Even if that would’ve meant seeing him with someone else. There’s no way Rex realizes the effect he has on women. On me especially. He has no idea he leaves broken hearts in his wake. If he did, he’d be the villain in this story, and there’s no way.

Rex Easton is one hundred percent hero.

We walk past a group of young men, and a guy in a neon orange jacket does a double-take when his eyes land on me. Rex shifts closer, glancing over his shoulder at the men as we pass.

“Do you know that guy? He’s staring at you.”

“No. Probably just what we’re wearing.”

“Could be.”

It takes several more minutes, but finally Rex’s shoulders relax. I look around as we walk, trying to predict where we’re heading. I know Ocean Lane up and down. I grew up in West Oaks, and the police department headquarters isn’t far. The district attorney’s office is just a couple of blocks further on from there. But my mind is coming up empty.

“Can you give me a hint of our destination?” I ask. “The mystery is killing me.”

He smiles, all dazzling white teeth. “We’re almost there.”

“Um, the surfboard rental? Even if that made sense, it’s closed for the night.”

“Nah, our destination is just past it. Tucked away. You’ll see.”

If Rex was anyone else, I’d think he was up to something. But no. We round the surfboard shop, and there’s a tiny food stand. It’s hidden from the view of the road. There’s no sign. We join the line of people waiting. Clearly, Rex isn’t the only local who knows about this place.

Rex leans in. “That’s Eddie running the fryer. He makes fish and chips. That’s the whole menu. Vinegar and tartar sauce optional.”

The smell of sizzling oil already has my stomach rumbling. Rex was right that I didn’t eat much of my food at dinner. Too much on my mind. “But is it as good as fast-food fried chicken?”

He laughs. “Better. I promise. Well worth the calorie splurge.”

Like he has to worry about that. If anything, Rex is in trimmer shape now than ten years ago.

We step up to the front. “Hey Eddie,” Rex says. “Two please.”

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