Chapter 5 Tourist Trap
Tourist Trap
Claire should’ve been focused on dinner.
She should’ve been soaking in the view, laughing with her friends, shoveling shrimp and fries like everyone else at the table. But her fork kept drifting in lazy circles on her plate, nudging food back and forth like maybe she could rearrange her appetite into something resembling normal.
But it wasn’t.
Because her appetite was elsewhere.
Across the deck, through the windows, inside the bar—where Jaxon Stone was holding court like it was his own damn kingdom.
She watched him laugh, nod, clap a guy on the shoulder like they’d known each other for years. He moved through the space like he belonged there. Not trying. Not reaching. Just… owning it. And fuck, did he look different from the man she sat beside on the plane.
That version had been pressed in a suit, controlled and cool, hiding the heat under layers of fabric and distance. This version? Hat turned backward now, forearms inked and tan, that signature Carolina beard in full force… this version wasn’t hiding a damn thing.
God, he’s arrogant, she thought, stabbing a piece of shrimp without actually lifting it. Arrogant and frustrating and... impossibly attractive. But who cares? I’m on vacation. I don’t need to get to know him.
She told herself that.
Twice.
Didn’t believe it either time.
“Why don’t you go talk to him?” Taylor asked from across the table, interrupting her spiral. “Or better yet—ask him to come out here?”
Claire blinked. “Because I’m not doing that, obviously.”
Before Taylor could respond, the waitress appeared beside them with a notepad and a tired smile. “Can I get you ladies anything?”
Taylor pointed a french fry directly toward the bar without shame. “Yeah. What can you tell us about that guy over there—with the hat?”
“Taylor!” Claire hissed. “Seriously?”
The waitress followed the fry’s direction. Her face lit up. “You mean Jax?”
“Jax?” Taylor repeated.
“Yeah. His name’s Jaxon Stone, but his friends call him Jax.”
“Even his name is sexy,” Macie muttered under her breath.
Claire groaned.
Sara jumped in next, chewing like she had zero shame. “They met on the plane, and he kind of blew her off after they landed. What’s his deal?”
The waitress paused, a slow grin tugging at her lips. “You know how every beach town has its thing? Like, a gimmick or some kind of tourist trap?”
Everyone leaned in, sensing the drop.
“Well… Jax is the tourist trap.”
The table fell quiet.
“Okay, what the hell does that mean?” Macie asked.
The waitress leaned her weight on one hip, clearly enjoying the moment.
“It means he’s southern as hell—got the charm, the tan, the voice.
The beard, obviously. He’s got a real job, dresses sharp when he needs to, and makes everyone around him feel like they’re the only person in the room.
Every woman he talks to? They leave with that what if look in their eyes. ”
“So... he’s a player?” Taylor asked.
“Not really. More of a flirt. He listens. Says just enough to hook you, but never too much. You feel like he sees you, and then he smiles, thanks you for the chat, and disappears into the night. I’ve tried, believe me. And I don’t get passed over often.”
“Why?” Sara asked. “If he’s that smooth, why not go home with someone?”
The waitress shrugged. “If I had to guess? He’s been in this scene too long. He’s tired of playing the game. He wants something real. But until he finds it? He’ll keep showing up, having conversations that don’t go anywhere, and making the rest of us wonder if we almost had a shot.”
Then she was gone—off to the next table, leaving the girls stunned.
Macie turned to Claire with wide eyes. “He’s clearly into you.”
Sara leaned in. “So why aren’t you doing anything? The waitress just gave you all the answers.”
Claire shook her head. “Because… we’re only here for two wee—”
Before she could finish, Sara raised her hand and called out to the waitress again, who was only a few tables away.
“Hey! Can you tell Jaxon and his friends to come out here and talk to us?”
Claire’s mouth dropped. “Sara!”
“What?” she said, unbothered. “There are three of them and four of us. Could be fun.”
Claire sank into her seat, mortified, heart hammering like it was trying to punch its way out of her chest. “I cannot believe you just did that.”
The waitress nodded and headed back inside. Claire watched every move, stomach in knots. She felt like she was bracing for impact—unsure if he’d show, if he’d laugh it off, or if he’d ignore it altogether.
But then she saw him.
The waitress leaned in. Said something to Jaxon with a whisper and a smile. He tilted his head, listening. Nodded slowly. Then turned toward the deck.
And smiled.
It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t casual. It was a slow, dangerous kind of smile.
Jaxon leaned toward his friends. Said something quick. And then—he was moving.
Straight toward her.
Macie grabbed Claire’s arm.
Taylor whispered, “Well, shit.”
Sara just grinned.
Claire couldn’t move. Could barely breathe.
He was twenty steps away. Then ten. Then five.
And when he stepped onto the deck, light hit his face, and everything in Claire stilled.
He wasn’t just walking toward them.
He was walking straight into her vacation.
And she had no idea what the hell she was going to do about it.