Page 64 of Tourist Trap

Except I don’t see the house, not really, because I’m distracted by something else. Instead, I spot Miles strolling down the beach, no shoes on, eyes locked on me, and looking like he’s on a mission.

I want to be annoyed, especially considering he’s got thatlookabout him, half pissed as fuck, half devious, like he’s planning something.

But I can’t.

Because from the moment I showed up here, this date has been an absolute misery. I have girlbossed way too close to the sun this time by going out with the most boring finance bro known to mankind, who won’t stop rambling on about himself, his investment portfolio, and hisplansfor the town.

Which, strangely enough, I suddenly find offensive because this little town is perfect the way it is.

But also because, for better or worse, I haven't been able to think about anything—or anyone—but Miles since I got here.

What was he doing? Would he be mad when I got home? What did he think when he saw me waving at the video doorbell on my way out, all dressed up and ready to go? He was nowhere to be found while I got ready, and I silenced my phone for this date, but I’m itching to check it now to see if he called or texted me anything.

“What’s going on over there?”

I don’t answer, too absorbed in watching Miles stalk closer, lost in the way he’s looking at me.

“Jesus Christ,” Brad grumbles under his breath, but I’m not even on the same planet as him anymore, lost as I watch Miles, his T-shirt clinging to his chest as he moves, sand kicking up with each step.

When Miles realizes my eyes are on him, he smiles wide and mischievous.

“Come on, Claire,” he calls before he’s even at my side.

“What?” I ask, then he steps over the small fence on the sand, moves until he’s at my side, and puts a hand out to me.

“Come on, we’re going home.”

TWENTY-TWO

ONE HOUR PREVIOUSLY

MILES

“Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Grant asks.

I look at the clock on my phone and cringe. It’s six p.m., so she’s probably getting all dolled up to go out with Brad fucking Baker.Taking a sip of my beer, I remind myself that this is what I wanted and force myself to relax my shoulders that were up near my ears.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“So that’s a no,” he says, then lifts his beer and takes a sip.

We’re at the Seabreeze, where her ghost seems to haunt me. The tables are back in their original place, but Lainey is glaring at me as if she’s trying to shoot darts into my eyeballs, and I can almost feel Claire in my arms when we danced here. I never realized how quiet this place was, but like all things, it seems once Claire shows me the sunshine, I eternally miss its warmth.

She’s ruining my hometown, and I don’t know what to do about it.

“What do you want to know?” I ask

“First off, you kissed her?” I sigh and look at the ceiling. “When?”

After the disaster at the beach yesterday, I’ve added my best friend to my growing list of people I’m avoiding, not wanting to deal with the questions.

With a deep release of air, I confess. “Last week. She dared me to.”

He gives me a look that saysdon't be an idiot.

“She dared you?”

My jaw goes tight at his disbelief and the fact that I have to justify this bullshit.

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