Chapter 39 – Claire
THIRTY-NINE
CLAIRE
"I wish I could help," I say with a sigh as Miles gets dressed in the bedroom attached to the bathroom where I'm doing my makeup.
I lean forward into the mirror, ensuring my sunscreen is completely rubbed in before adding blush, lipstick, and mascara. Usually, I wouldn't bother with the extras for work, but this isn't just a typical day. Today, I'm one of the three lifeguards and first aid members hired by Surf to monitor the beach games event.
"You'll still be there the whole time," he says, and I smile into the mirror.
"Yeah, but it's not the same. I want to kick someone's ass." I know our plan dictates that I can't be on the team, but I wish I could be, all the same.
"I don't know how I'm supposed to focus on the tournament when you're dressed like that," Miles grumbles, walking into the bathroom.
I turn in the mirror, checking the fit of my red bathing suit. I'll admit it's a bit revealing, but it still meets the requirements I've been given. I turn fully to him, then lift my hands up, hooking them over his shoulders and pulling him close.
"That's the point, baby," I whisper against his lips. "You can concentrate, knowing when you get home tonight, I'm all yours. The rest of them? They know they can't have it, so it's just a sweet fantasy of theirs they'll never have."
He shakes his head. "You're diabolical, you know that?" he asks with a smile, his hand dipping below the back of my swim bottoms to cup my ass. "But you'll still be a distraction."
"Just know if you win, I'll let you do whatever you want to me tonight."
His eyes widen along with his grin. "Anything?"
"Anything," I confirm. He drops his head to my shoulder, and I let out a laugh at his dramatics.
"Jesus, Claire," he groans into my neck.
"You want to take my ass, baby, it's yours." His breathing goes a bit ragged, and he tugs my hips to his, where I can feel how much he likes that idea. "Not now, though," I whisper, then step back.
"Fuck, now we can't leave for a few minutes," he grumbles, readjusting his hardening cock in his shorts, and I smile.
"Keep that in mind, just in case you lose motivation."
"I don't think that's going to be an issue," he says. "I'm suddenly very fucking motivated."
"Good." I put the cap on my lipstick and throw a lip gloss into my bag before turning back to him. "Ready to go when you are."
When we approach where the beach games are set up, I see some familiar faces that have me stopping in my tracks.
"Is that…" I turn and look up to Miles, who is smiling wide. "What did you do?" I ask, turning to him, my stupid eyes watering, and he's grinning now.
"I called up Nate, wanted to see if they'd want to spend the day on the shore."
"I love you so much, I could kiss you," I say.
"Go, Aunt Claire!" Sophie shouts before I can, and I move quickly down the boards and onto the sand, where I grab my niece and spin her around. When I set her down, she starts jumping up and down like a maniac.
"Hey, what are you guys doing here?" I ask with a watery smile. I hug my brother first, then Jules, who is right next to him, before moving on to my sisters. Mom waves from where she's arguing with Dad about how he's putting in the umbrella, and I smile at the sight.
I wonder if that's how Miles and I will be in thirty years, me bossing him around, him doing whatever he deems will keep me happy because he can't care to have me any other way. When I look at him, seeing him setting my beach bag next to my lifeguard chair and shaking Margo to make sure she's full, I know the answer is yes.
God, it shouldn't be legal to be this happy. Really, it shouldn’t.
"Miles called us, told us you're helping out, and he had a team going," Sutton says, putting an arm around my shoulder.
"I hear he's going to kick that asshole's ass," my dad says, looking around for who I assume is Paul. We found out yesterday when the teams were posted that Paul would be on Team Surf, something that made me more angry than it did Miles.
"He's throwing his hissy fit," Miles had said when I told him I wanted to go find his brother and break his leg so he couldn't compete. "Let him."
Like father, like daughter, if I'm being honest.
"That's the goal," Miles says, moving over to my dad to shake his hand.
My dad pulls him into a backslapping hug, and I fight more emotions that are on the verge. It's like once I fell in love and felt safe in that, all of my emotions were even more prominent, and the thin wall I was hiding behind is completely demolished now that I feel fulfilled in all aspects of my life.
"Hello, Claire," Brad says, walking over with a Team Surf shirt on. It's ill-fitting, and his team stands behind him, looking unhappy to be here, except for Paul, who looks unnecessarily smug. "Shouldn't you be working?"
I give him a smile, then look at my watch, followed by the competition area.
"I didn't know I had to be on before anything started."
His jaw goes tight.
"You work for me, so I don't appreciate you fraternizing with the?—"
Helen steps over to us with a dark look on her face, though I have no idea where she came from.
"Actually, Claire works for the Seaside Point Recreation Department, not you, Mr. Baker," she says firmly, then turns to me. "And you're not even on the clock yet, Claire. Enjoy your morning."
"I just think—" he starts, and again, she cuts him off.
"Maybe you should worry about your own employees before worrying about mine," Helen says, tipping her chin toward his team, two of whom are fighting in an escalating volume.
He groans, then moves toward the two beefheads who look like they're about to throw blows. Brad moves quickly toward them, breaking it up but almost getting hit in the process, and I fight a laugh as I watch it.
Miles pulls me to his side, pressing his lips to my hair. "We've got this in the bag, babe."
* * *
Each event for the beach games is a bit different, but at the end of each one, each team is assigned points based on their ranking in that game: first place gets ten points, second place gets eight, and so on, until last place gets zero points.
Six teams are registered in total, all vying for the title of beach games champion . This seemed alarming to me, and I asked Miles what happens if neither of them wins the games. But according to him, they only have to beat each other.
Since I’m head lifeguard, I have to work the event, which we decided was best because I can run my chaos in the background and make sure the other team plays by the rules, even if we plan to bend them a bit.
The first event is a tug of war game, and after the Locals beat two other teams, they’re up against Surf. I expect Paul to be at the front of their line, facing off against Miles, but I should have known Brad would want to face down Miles.
“Are you ready to lose?” Brad asks Miles with a wide smile. Paul stands behind him, while Miles has Grant at his back. The rest of the team is in line behind him, ready to pull.
“I’m ready to play,” Miles says, not giving in to the taunt.
Brad opens his mouth to speak, but the referee starts his countdown.
“Get ready…set…tug!” the referee shouts, and the teams begin pulling. There’s a line in between the two teams that if either steps over, they lose, and I watch it like a hawk. With the first tug, Miles takes a small step closer to the line, and my heart sinks. But the smile on his face when Brad lets out a laugh tells me Miles might have some mischievous plans of his own.
“Let’s go, Miles!” my dad yells from behind me, sitting in the sand with my family. “Make that asshole eat sand!”
Miles’s smile goes wider, but he doesn’t say anything or even shift his focus.
“It’s going to be a shame, Claire’s family watching you lose everything today,” Paul says through gritted teeth, clearly trying to egg on Miles despite struggling to pull.
But Miles stays silent, tugging at the rope, and I watch him take a step back as Brad and his team tug a bit closer to the line. My heart starts to pound, my hands sweaty as I jump in place to try and get rid of the nervous energy.
“Because you are going to lose everything, you know,” Brad adds. It’s clear he’s goading Miles, but his cocky attitude is faltering as he’s pulled another inch closer to the line in the center. “I can’t wait to tear down that piece of junk,” Brad says through gritted teeth.
Miles’s smile widens then, and he shouts, “Now!” booming and loud, and I realize then the team wasn’t putting all of their strength into it. Lainey, Jonah, and June go red as the muscles on Grant, Deck, and Miles all strain, tugging hard and quick.
It happens then and it happens quick: the team is pulled over the line, but not only that, Brad falls face-first into the sand, just like my dad predicted, his hands still on the rope and unable to catch himself.
I give Miles a wide smile and a thumbs-up as the team cheers, and I slowly reach Brad. We decided early on that if something like this happened, I would have to do my job and make sure the other team was okay before I celebrate, so Brad wouldn’t have a reason to argue since I’m technically working today.
“You okay, Brad?” I ask as he slowly sits up. There’s a small cut beneath his nose, but he doesn’t seem injured, just a bruised ego. He brushes sand off his face, eyes glaringly locked on the jumping Locals who won the first game. Paul offers him a hand, but he slaps it out of the way before standing and brushing off the helping hand.
“I’m fucking fine,” he grumbles. “Let’s get the next game going.” And as he walks back over to where his things are, I watch the scoreboard—yes, it seems Brad rented a whole scoreboard— turn, giving The Locals ten points and Team Surf eight.
We’re off to a good start.
The afternoon goes on, and even though I'm on the clock and it should be a stressful time, it's some of the most fun I've had all summer. I love watching Miles and my friends all compete, beating the assholes at their own game. Half the town is here cheering on The Locals, and even the people who came to cheer on Surf seem to be switching alliances with each round as Brad somehow makes himself more and more unlikable.
His team got first place in the water balloon toss, getting himself ten points to our four (it seems none of our guys have soft hands and popped every single balloon that came their way, something that even though it was disappointing, I laughed so hard at, I couldn't breathe) and got six points to our eight during musical beach towels, though they lost whatever small portion of the cheering section they had when Brad pushed a kid to the ground to win and made her cry.
Next up is Beach Twister, for which we chose former gymnast June to be our contestant. She lasts long, until it's just her and some beefy guy on Brad's team left. I’m not quite sure how the man made it this far, but I don’t think he’ll be in much longer, not when I spot Benny stepping over with a bucket set a foot from the edge of the oversized Twister mat. I roll my lips between my teeth as I watch him conspicuously dump the bucket in the direction of the game.
Six hermit crabs come tumbling out, including Big Gina, still in her bedazzled shell, though I've given her a bunch of new ones to choose from. Clearly excited to be out and about, they start scrambling along the sand, making their way to the colorful mat.
I catch Jonah's eye and wink at him as he gives me a thumbs up, and then I hear June call out too loudly to be natural, "Is that a hermit crab?"
"What? Where?" the guy twisted next to her yells.
"Left hand red," I say with a bored tone after flicking the spinner.
"Where is it?" the guy shouts again, frantically looking for the hermit crabs June pointed out that aren't even near him. People keep pointing and whispering, and the guy clearly begins to panic.
"The timer is going—Team Surf has to make a move or forfeit the game," I say, ignoring the ruckus.
"Move," Brad yells, his face going red. "Fuck those little roaches."
The guy does, except right as he lifts his hand, he must see the hermit crab a few feet away and shrieks, falling to the ground and then scrambling up, pointing and yelling at Little Tommy, my smallest guy.
Yes, it turns out I got one boy in my grand escape plan.
"What the fuck is that?"
"The Locals win!" I yell, ignoring him, then watch as Jonah neatly grabs five of the crabs. June picks up the last one and kisses his shell before putting him back in Jonah's bucket.
They are so going to deserve a treat tonight.
* * *
“Next is the watermelon-eating contest!” the event presenter shouts some time later, after half of our team has started on the sandcastle competition on the other side of the beach. “I’ll need one team member from each team to participate!”
Miles steps forward, moving toward the table lined with six plates and large slices of watermelon.
I laugh at the irony when I see Paul also move as the chosen team member for this competition. When I look over to where Brad’s team is standing, his arms are crossed over his chest, a smug smile as if he thinks this is going to upset me or get in Miles’s head. I roll my eyes and then look to the table where Paul is glaring at me as well.
I grab Miles’s wrist and pull him in, noting his brother staring at us as I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his face down to mine, moving to my toes to kiss him.
“A good luck kiss,” I say with a smile when we break it. He looks over at the table, seeing Paul staring at us, before he looks back at me with a smile and a small shake of his head. Then, I follow him to the table to monitor as part of my job. Miles sits on the end, closest to where I’m standing, and once again, I’m surprised when I see Paul is right next to Miles’s seat.
“Surprised you could make time in your busy, rockstar schedule to help Brad out with this. I know your career is just skyrocketing,” Miles says to his brother.
I let out a snort of a laugh, and I fail at disguising it behind a cough.
“Well, I have a recent influx of cash, so I have some more flexibility,” he says as if that’s going to bother Miles. It bothers me more than it bothers Miles, though.
“Just make sure you don’t spend it all in one place, okay buddy? Put some in your piggy bank for a rainy day, since you lost everyone who would ever be willing to help you out when you crash and burn next time,” Miles says low and easy, situating himself before his large piece of watermelon.
Paul’s face goes as red as a watermelon.
“I’m about to make it big, so I’m not going to need any of you.” He shifts before his own plate, but I can see the irritation written on his face. “When I’m famous, don’t bother trying to get back on my good side.”
With that, Miles lets out a bark of laughter, and I stifle one of my own before the judge starts telling them the rules: no using any hands, the first person to have mostly white on their watermelon wins, and that will be at the discretion of the judge.
“Go!” the judge shouts, and six heads dip, vigorously eating the fruit.
I watch Miles and instantly wonder to myself, should this be hot? Because as I watch him devour the fruit, I feel a little warm. Then I look at the contestant next to him and fight a laugh as I watch Paul chase the slick watermelon around, slipping and sliding. In contrast, Miles takes bite after bite, quickly eating the watermelon.
“Looks like you’re having a hard time over there, Paul,” I say, crossing my arms on my chest. “You always did have a hard time finding the right spots.” I almost regret my jab when Miles coughs, slowing him down, but it’s a momentary lapse before he continues on.
But Paul stops altogether, looking at me with a glare. I just shrug.
A moment later, Miles stands up and raises a hand, a judge coming over to check his rind before declaring him the winner. The crowd cheers, and Paul comes in dead last, not surprisingly.
“Once again, it’s clear which Miller brother is the best,” I say, giggling into the sticky kiss Miles gives me. When it breaks, I wipe the mess from his mustache and smile at him.