Chapter 15 – Miles
FIFTEEN
MILES
“Fucking tourists ,” I groan as I turn onto Sandshore Road, almost hitting a family that’s jaywalking across it.
The father turns to me and starts screaming at me while the mother continues walking, staring at her phone like nothing happened. I point to the very clearly painted crosswalk he is decidedly not standing in and flip him off.
He continues to curse at me through the window that’s down.
“There’s a crosswalk for a reason,” I say as they finish crossing the road, then move on toward my destination.
I should have been there almost an hour ago, but at the last minute I had a tourist come into my shop telling me their AC wasn’t working. When I told them it wasn’t a simple cabin air filter issue, they proceeded to argue with me for an hour before leaving with nothing. It’s pretty typical this time of year, but fuck, does it drive me up a wall.
But at least I’ll always have the Seabreeze. The bar and grill in the corner of Seaside Point with little to no atmosphere is far enough off the boardwalk that it isn’t too interesting for tourists and is mostly just a local hangout.
It’s where my parents met, where they got married long ago, and where I go in the summer to avoid the chaos.
When I pull up, I find the normal cars lining up the narrow road, and a sense of peace washes over me.
Except…when I see a bright fucking yellow Beetle parked in my spot.
Of course.
I contemplate double parking her and going in to argue with her, but the last thing I need is the grapevine in this town to go wild about me storming into the Seabreeze arguing with the new girl in town. Instead, I pull back out of the parking lot, cursing and grumbling under my breath before parking on the street.
It’s not until I’m closer to the bar that I realize there’s noise coming from inside, which is strange because it’s Thursday, and the only times the Seabreeze gets rowdy in the summer are on bingo nights and the monthly trivia night.
But when I open the door, loud music comes blaring in, confusing me.
Until I see it.
Long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, a tight white tank top, and long tanned legs in a pair of shorts that should be fucking illegal.
I walk further in, sure my eyes are deceiving me, when Grant catches my eye.
“Miles!” he says, smiling wide and tipping his head to the center of the room. “Just in time!”
But my eyes stay locked on Claire as she’s swung around the room by Benny, who is probably much too old to be moving like that. When her eyes catch on me, her steps slow, then stop before she leans in to say something to Benny with wide eyes. His head tips back with a laugh before he pushes her in my direction.
“Hey, there,” she says with a wide smile. I try to fight the way it warms me over, momentarily forgetting that I’m supposed to be annoyed with her.
“Your car’s in my spot.”
She looks from me to the car she can probably see through the window, then tosses her hair over her shoulder before tipping her head to the side. She uses a hand to fan herself, and I notice then the way her cheeks are flushed, the way her chest is rising with labored breaths from her dancing.
Cut it out , I tell my rampaging mind.
“It doesn’t have your name on it,” she says simply, a smile playing on her lips like she knows it’s going to annoy me.
My jaw goes tight, and I wonder what the enamel of my teeth will look like by the end of the summer.
“I don’t have to. It’s my spot.”
“How is anyone supposed to just know that?” She puts her hands on her hips, shifting her weight to one leg and cocking out her knee.
“The people who come here are regulars. Regulars know the rules.”
“Rule is being incredibly generous,” June says, overhearing our conversation.
I glare at my best friend’s sister, and she puts her hands up in surrender but doesn’t hide her laugh.
“Why do you get to park there? What makes you so much more special than any other customer here?”
I cross my arms on my chest and look down my nose at her.
“I won the fishing contest last year. It gets you a parking spot for a year,” I say, though I suddenly feel ridiculous saying it out loud, sounding like a childish excuse.
Her eyes go comically wide.
“Wow, so fancy,” she says in a way that clearly shows she isn’t impressed at all.
“It’s the rules, Claire. You win the contest, you get the spot. And it’s my spot. I got it because I won the contest, but I had to park halfway down the road because you’re in my spot.”
Her lips roll into themselves, trying not to laugh, and her eyes go wide as if pretending like she’s taking in what I’m saying, but she really just looks like she’s humoring a child .
“Wow, sounds like you’ve got a lot of big feelings about that.”
“I don’t have big feelings about it,” I grumble. “I just want my spot.”
She pouts at me and pats my cheek. I can see Grant giggling behind her, entertained by my misery.
The asshole should be on my side.
“There are a bunch of spots on the street,” she says.
“That you could have parked in.”
“I got here first,” she says, lifting her hands in the air and stepping closer. We’re almost nose to nose, her hands now on her hips, looking up at me from her short height, me towering over her, and for a split, fucked second, I think about the fact that it wouldn’t take much to kiss her.
I bet that would shut up her incessant need to argue with me.
She’s my tenant. I remind myself. She’s only here for the summer. And you have more than enough on your plate to deal with a handful like Claire.
After our morning together where she told me more about her doomed relationship, I’ve removed that she’s your brother’s ex from my reasons I can’t be into her, and before that, I removed that she’s too immature and young . The slowly dwindling list can’t be a great sign for my restraint, but I’ll worry about that another day.
I shake my head and step back.
“Claire!” Benny shouts over the music. “Is he giving you a hard time?”
“No, Benny boy, he’s just chatting with me,” she shouts over her shoulder, but her eyes and her wide smile are still directed at me.
Benny boy . Fuck, why do I like her fitting in here so damn much? She slides right into this place, not sticking out like some outsider, making nicknames for Benny and friends everywhere she does, as if she’s always belonged here.
“Come on, Miles, let my dance partner be. She was teaching me the Cha-Cha Slide.” I look over Claire’s shoulder at Benny, his smile wide and teasing, his usual Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned over a white tank top and a pair of cargo shorts, pipe for once out of sight. “Who knows how much longer I have to live?”
I shake my head, then look down at Claire, who is smiling wide at me.
“Yeah. Are you really going to deprive an old man of fun to argue with a girl about a parking spot? How very alpha male of you.”
A million thoughts run through my head, and more than one of them revolve around showing Claire just how much of a Neanderthal I can be by hefting her over my shoulder and carrying her out of here.
But I don’t. Instead, I shake my head, then gesture toward the bar for her to carry on before moving to see Grant.
“Come on, my man. Let’s get you a drink,” he says like it’s a consolation prize as he leads me to a larger table where half a dozen drinks sit in various states of empty instead of the normal high-top table we usually sit at on Tuesdays.
“I think I’m going to need it.”
I look around the dive bar. It’s more crowded, since it seems someone pushed the tables back to make Claire a makeshift dance floor. Lainey and June twist and turn together while a few other couples do the same.
Despite myself, I have to accept that this is what Claire brings everywhere she goes: joy, chaos, and a lightheartedness that can’t be denied.
It drives me fucking crazy.
“Looks like they’re having fun,” Grant says an hour later, tipping his chin to where patrons are now spinning around the dance floor. Some old 80s song I vaguely recognize is playing, and each time I look up, Claire is dancing with someone new, her head tipping back with laughter. She’s come to the table a handful of times to take a drink of water or chat with June or Lainey, but most of the night, she’s been at the center of the bar, dancing.
“Hmm,” I say noncommittally.
“You should go dance with her,” he says as if it’s a casual suggestion, but I know my best friend enough to know it’s anything but.
I look at him and shake my head.
“Why not?”
“Not the dancing type, and you know that.”
He shakes his head like he’s disappointed in me. “Looks like fun.”
“No,” I repeat, grabbing up the beer I’ve been nursing all night and taking a sip.
“You’re fucking scared of her,” he says with a laugh after a beat. “Never thought I’d see it.”
“Scared of a five-foot-two blonde? No, I’m not.”
“You totally are,” June says next to him, though I’m not sure when she got here.
My eyes shift to Claire’s best friend, and I glare. I open my mouth to argue, but then June’s brows furrow, and I look up, following her line of sight.
Sam Fields, an asshole who graduated a year below me is standing next to Claire, his hand on her bare shoulder. Claire gives him a small shake of her head, then tips her head toward our table. Instead of getting the hint, he takes a step further into her space, and Claire’s body goes tight. She shakes her head once more, and Sam’s hand goes out to grab her wrist.
I don’t know what happens next.
Something inside me snaps, and I’m on the other side of the room before I can even recognize I’m moving.
“Claire,” I say, reaching out and grabbing her free hand, tugging her toward me. Sam immediately drops his hand and steps back.
Sam is an ass, a player, and a loser, but he’s not an idiot.
“Sorry, man. I didn’t know she was yours.”
I tug Claire into my chest, and without even missing a beat, she slides her hands around my neck. I watch as Sam moves off to someone else, this one more willing.
“Thank you,” Claire whispers when my eyes travel back to hers.
“He’s a dick. Not a problem usually, but when he drinks, he gets a bit weird.”
She nods, and I could step away, lead her back to the table, go get her a drink, take her outside for some air. But…
I don’t.
Instead, I wrap an arm around her waist, pull her in close, and start to sway to the slow ’70s rock ballad that’s now playing.
This is such a fucking bad idea. A horrible, terrible fucking idea, but I can’t seem to stop myself all the same.
“A dance?” she asks, a small smile on her lips.
“Don’t want to make a scene,” I lie because, for all intents and purposes, the scene has already been made. I can see it by the way Grant and June whisper to each other and the way Lainey is back behind the bar, smiling.
“Hmm,” Claire says like she doesn’t believe me, but she leans into my body, swaying to the song with me.
I take a deep breath, her strawberries and cream scent filling my lungs, forcing myself to commit it to memory.
As if it’s not already there.
“Does this check something on my list?” I ask without meaning to.
“Are you having fun?”
I should lie.
I should tell her I’m not. That she’s ruining my relaxing night, that I much prefer when this place is quiet and the tables are normal and no one talks to me, but I’m a fucking idiot, so I don’t.
“The most fun night I can remember having at the Seabreeze.”
“Yeah?” she asks with a hopeful smile, and I nod. “What’s different?”
I shift a bit to look down at her, her face hopeful and glowing, and once again, I can’t find it in myself to lie.
“You. You’re here.”
Because I can’t help myself, I put a hand to her hip, tugging her in closer so our bodies are melded, her soft breasts pressing into my worn T-shirt, and she beams up at me as we continue to sway.
The music isn’t fast, but it isn’t slow, either. Instead, it is stuck in that normally awkward in-between beat where you’re not sure what to do, but with her, it feels natural. My body just knows how to move with hers.
I lift my hand, pushing the hair that’s fallen into her face back as we sway, and she looks up at me with wide eyes that shift from my eyes to my lips, then my eyes again.
It would be easy to kiss her.
Too fucking easy.
Except, then, the song changes. I should be relieved, but instead, an alarming sense of disappointment fills me, but not Claire. She gasps, her eyes going wide at the tune I don’t recognize.
“OH MY GOD!” June yells from the other side of the room.
“It’s our song,” Claire whispers, still in my arms.
“You should probably go dance with her,” I say.
“I guess.” But she doesn’t let go. “Thanks for saving me, Miles.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
A smile spreads across her face like a wave. “I knew it,” she whispers, then moves to her toes and presses her lips to my cheek.
I don’t know when she did it, but the next morning, on the paper pinned to the fridge, she added a new item to the bottom.
Dance at the Seabreeze
And she crossed it out.
And when warmth fills me, I realize once again just how fucked I am.