Page 98 of Tourist Trap

“Mom’s great, but she was an only child, so was my dad. I just have my mom, really.”

“Honey, you have an amazing family. Grant and June and Deck and Lainey. Helen and Benny and?—”

“They’re all friends. And they aren’t blood.”

I shake my head.

“Family is what you make it, Miles. You’ve made yourself one hell of a family,” I say, and he stares at me, taking me in for long, long moments before he smiles, understanding spreading over his face, a peace I’ve never seen settling over him.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Then he leans forward, pressing a kiss to my lips and burying a hand in my hair. “And I can’t wait to continue doing that.”

I don't ask what he means because the moment feels precious and sacred, but I can see it in his eyes all the same.

I want to continue making a family…with you.

THIRTY-FOUR

CLAIRE

"Thanks for helping," I say as I take Miles's T-shirt from him, putting it with his other things, far enough from the dunk tank that, hopefully, they won't get completely drenched when he goes under.

Grant, June, Deck, and Lainey are standing to the side, and Grant already has a wad of cash and a wide smile, so Miles isdefinitelygoing under.

I asked him for the favor very carefully after he was well exhausted after making me come with his mouthandcoming in mine. I crawled up his body, snuggled into his side, and quietly told him that we needed to fill in a few more spots for the dunk tank.

"I've never been able to say no to you, Claire. Ever," he says, smiling wide and not missing my perusal of all of his tanned skin.

"That's bullshit," I laugh, pushing on his shoulder, but he stands straight, unflinching, before he wraps an arm around my waist.

"I'm serious." I roll my eyes, and he uses his free hand to hold my chin and direct my gaze to him. "Tell me when I've told you no, Claire. When I followed you into the cold-as-fuck ocean? When you showed up at my door looking for somewhere to stay? When you brought home half a dozen hermit crabs? When you wanted me to fuck you on a lifeguard chair?" I look around with wide eyes, but he pulls me in even closer, pressing his lips right below my ear. "I'll do whatever you ask of me, Claire. Every time."

It hits me then that I actually can't think of a time when Miles has told me no, and the knowledge of that short-circuits my brain.

"Come on! Stop sucking face, and let's get to dunking!" Grant yells, and the small crowd surrounding him cheers.

Miles heaves a sigh into my neck before groaning and walking away from me.

"Let's get this thing over with," he grumbles before stepping into the dunk tank.

"Three balls, five dollars," I say to Grant ten minutes later.

He's already dunked Miles five times and clearly is out to do more. Now, Mrs. Miller—Sarah—is tossing balls at Miles's target while he teases her. Everyone—locals and tourists alike—have been wandering the boardwalk all afternoon, playing games, eating food, and enjoying the gorgeous day.

It's been the most perfect afternoon, and without even having a tally, I already know we raised a ton for the department.

"Do you have tap to pay?"

I give him a look.

"Grant, this is a community event. No, I don't have a credit card machine." He rolls his eyes, and I smile sweetly. "But there's an ATM over there," I say, tipping my chin to the other side of the boardwalk. I expect an argument, but he moves toward it with excitement, and at the sight of it, I let out a laugh.

Sarah uses her last ball, missing again, but I watch as Miles reaches out of the cage he's in and hits the target she missed by a long shot before falling into the water. Everyone cheers and laughs, and Miles shakes his wet hair when he comes up out of the water, wiping it out of his eyes before looking straight at me. I smile, and he returns it before he resets the stool and climbs back on, June now heckling him with balls in her hand.

For not the first time, I feel it—that happy feeling in my chest from just being here, with these people, supplying this community. It's starting to feel like I was pulled here for a reason, not to give myself space to find myself, but because this is where Ibelong.

"How many for a hundred?" a voice asks, pulling me from my daze. I turn to find Brad in front of me, that cocky smile on his lips, but it's no longer laced with kindness to try and win me over. He's in that ugly-ass white polo and khaki shorts, and I give him a tight smile.

"Three for five dollars," I say.

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