Chapter 34 – Claire
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 is definitely going under .
I asked him for the favor very carefully after he was well exhausted after making me come with his mouth and coming 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 I belong .
"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.
"Come on, a deal for a friend?" he asks.
I shake my head. "It's a community fundraiser, Brad. No discounts." He truly is such an asshole.
He takes me in, then looks to Miles. "Of course, just joking." He hands me the hundred that's so crisp, it must be straight from the bank unless he irons his cash, which I wouldn't put past him. "Just three, keep the change."
I lift an eyebrow. "You sure?"
"That's all I'll need," he says, and I roll my eyes, taking the cash and handing him three softballs.
"Stand at the line, then throw," I say.
He nods and gives me a cocky grin before moving toward the chalk line we made earlier this morning. Everyone stands around him, Miles and our friends glaring at the asshole as he stretches like this is going to be some huge, impressive feat instead of a kid's carnival game before he makes his first throw.
I've never never been more happy to see someone miss a target. I let out a snort that I cover with a cough when he misses, and Miles looks at me with a wide smile. I shake my head at him, then look back to Brad.
"Wind is pretty strong today," he says, and I look to the flag behind him to see it's drooping, showing there’s barely a breeze. I nod and give him a tight smile before he winds up.
"Or maybe you just can't aim," Miles says, and I snap my head to him, eyes wide. He doesn't even look at me; just keeps smiling at Brad like he already knows he's going to miss before he releases the ball.
This time he's closer, though he still misses.
"You suck, mister," some kid I kind of recognize as a younger sibling of one of my lifeguards says, and his mother quickly shushes him before Brad glares.
"Come on, man, can't hit a target?" Miles says, taunting Brad. I have to fight a laugh.
"Fuck off."
"This is a family event, Mr. Baker; we'll have to ask you to refrain from foul language," Helen says. I don't know when she got here, but she's also smiling at Brad like she's entertained by him missing his shot.
This whole town is nuts, and I love it. Brad's jaw goes tight. Before he turns back to Miles, winding up and throwing.
The ball misses the target again, and to my pleasure and horror, the kids gathered behind Brad started cheering.
His face goes beet red as he turns and walks off, leaving Miles laughing hysterically before he drops into the water, Grant already taking Brad's spot with his next round of balls.
"This was good," Helen says as he dunks Miles on the first try, the kids cheering again. She stands next to me and places a hand on my shoulder. "Fun for the town and the tourists. You've got an eye for this kind of thing."
I shrug and smile at her. "PTA kid. I've been to more fundraisers than anyone ever should."
"I'm just saying. Something to keep in mind. Anyway, you're on break," she says. "Take that boy with you before Grant spends his life savings."
I smile as Grant throws his last ball at the target, hitting it again, and Miles falls into the water. I nod because the baseball coach is already standing to the side, waiting for the shift he signed up for, a bunch of his players lined up to dunk him. I have a feeling he'll get even more wet than Miles did.
Grabbing a towel, I walk over to the tank. "Time’s up, bud," I say, and he gives me a smile.
"Already?"
"I'm on break."
His eyes go soft before he climbs out of the dunk tank. "Does that mean we can go hide under the boardwalk for a bit? Make out?"
I let out a loud laugh, loving this side of Miles that I rarely have seen in the past but am glimpsing more of each day. Playful and fun, less worried, less stressed. Though I like all of the versions of Miles, I like this one best.
"Hold your horses, bud. First, you gotta dry off."
He wiggles his eyebrows at me as he takes the towel, draping it over his shoulders. "So you're not saying no…"
I roll my eyes, and he shakes his head like a dog, his hair sending droplets of water toward me.
"Oh my god, stop it!" I say, but he doesn't; instead, he reaches for me, and despite my backing up with a laugh, he gets to me quickly and grabs me, pulling me into the towel with him and getting me all wet.
Fifteen minutes, and, yes, a mini makeout session under the boardwalk later, I'm making rounds to check on all of the events we have going on. Miles is holding my hand as we walk down the boardwalk toward the beach entrance. The rec employee checking badges at the entrance nods us in, even though neither of us has beach bags on us, and I give her a smile of thanks.
Looking over my shoulder at the people milling about, my heart is so full, knowing that we absolutely blew whatever goals Helen had for fundraising out of the water.
Once on the sand, we move down the shoreline to check out the sandcastle competition, taking in all of the creations the kids have made. Some of them are just pushed-together sand piles, and others were clearly aided by parents. There are drip castles and bucket castles, and even someone's dad buried in a sandy mermaid tail, but my brow furrows when I move to the end of the walk and see a group of giggling girls around the last contestant.
"Who's that?" Miles asks, and I shrug but move closer all the same. That's when Miles grabs my wrist, tugging me back so I can't go any further.
"Miles, what—" But the words die on my tongue when one of the young girls shifts, and we see it: Jonah, smiling wide, building an impressive sandcastle, a gaggle of young girls around him, giggling and twirling their hair and— "Oh my god."
"Seems our boy got the much-needed self-confidence boost he needed."
Jonah says something, and all the girls let out a laugh.
"Where did he get that?"
"I may have pulled him aside the other day and given him some girl advice."
I shift to look at him, my jaw dropping. "You're joking." Miles shrugs, and I shake my head, smiling at him. "You know, under that grumpy exterior, you really are a nice guy."
He looks at me for long moments before he smiles again and pushes hair behind my ear. "Don't tell anyone."
"Your secret is safe with me," I whisper.
* * *
"We did it, Claire!" Helen says, coming over as we watch about a dozen tables lined up, kids on either side eating their bowls of ice cream, giggling and smiling all along.
"We made the money for the soccer team?" I ask with a wide smile.
"And then some! The wrestling team is already half-funded. And the day is still young."
I pull her into my arms and squeeze her. "I told you! You just need to capitalize on the busy season. I bet you can fund almost everything in the summer season alone. Add another event like this next summer, so you have two, maybe three events throughout the season? Perfect."
I already suggested a monthly or even, if they can manage it, weekly live music on the beach night, and Helen agreed it could be a great idea and brought it up with the town to figure out permit requirements for a temporary stage.
"She's a smart one, Miles."
He puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in and pressing a kiss to my hair.
"Don't I know it," he says.
"We're getting together a volleyball team," June says, coming out of nowhere, her fingers wrapping around my wrist and tugging me toward the sand. "We need you."
"I'm still—" I start, but Helen shakes her head.
"Go on! Go have some fun!" Helen shouts at me with a wave of her hand. "You're supposed to be off the clock by now."
"I was planning on helping?—"
She shakes her head again. "You're off the clock, Claire. Enjoy your night." And then she walks off, ending any discussion.
"Come on! It's me, you, and Lainey versus Miles, Grant, and Deck." As much as I like girl power, that sounds like a recipe for disaster.
I sigh and turn to Miles. "You in?" I ask. "It's on the list."
He smiles wide, then shrugs. "Where you go, I go."
June glares at him as only a best friend can do to the man you're inevitably head over heels for.
We're on the third round, and, to everyone's surprise, each team has won one round. We both are only two points away from the predetermined ten-point requirement, but it's getting increasingly hard to concentrate.
One, I was up at the asscrack of dawn to work, and it's nearly five. Two, my super hot boyfriend stands across from me, looking, well, super hot. My eyes lock on Miles's, and he smiles wide at me, winking, and my mind spirals on all the filthy things a simple wink could mean.
A moment later, the ball hits the sand right next to me.
"What the fuck, Claire!" Lainey yells from behind me.
"Hey! He was distracting me," I say, giving Miles a glare.
"Gotta keep your head in the game," he says with a smile.
My glare deepens. "Who the fuck are you, Troy Bolton?"
His brow furrows. "I don't know who that is," he says as June tosses the ball over to her brother.
I blink at my boyfriend. "You don't know who Troy Bolton is? Oh, god, that's a crime. We need to?—"
"Claire!" June yells, her competitive side winning once again. "Flirt with your boyfriend later. We've got some boys to beat."
I look to said boyfriend, who is smiling wide at me, and I realize two can play this game.
While Grant serves, I reach back and take the ponytail holder out from my hair, grateful the wind is blowing toward us so it's not in my face before I stretch my hands behind my back, my boobs pushing out in Miles's direction. June spikes the ball over the net, knocking Miles in the head before it falls to the ground.
I turn to June, giving her a high-five before turning back to face Miles.
"It's so on," he says with a grin as Lainey serves the ball.
"Is it? I didn't realize."
Grant sets the ball, and Deck hits it over right to Lainey.
"You're getting it when we get home."
"Promise?" I ask, then watch heat flare in his eyes as the ball goes to him. He hits it over with ease, right to me, but when I try to hit it, I come in wrong, sending it wild to where no one could save it.
"No!" June shouts on a disappointed laugh.
"Sorry," I say with a cringe, walking over to hug my friends.
We watch as the guys huddle together, all excitedly shouting in celebration.
"They're kind of cute, you know?" I say, watching Deck, Grant, and Miles all jump like they're fifteen instead of over twice that. I can't help but smile as I watch them, both because it's hilarious but also because it's so good to see Miles happy .
"I think you're just in love," June says, but Miles is bounding over for a good game kiss before I can even respond.