Chapter 8
Highlight Reel
The whole ride back to Caswell felt different.
The windows were cracked just enough to let the salt breeze drift through, but the real air in the SUV? It was Claire—smiling like someone who just discovered something rare and wasn’t ready to name it yet.
From the second they pulled away from the gravel lot, the questions started flying.
“Did he kiss you?”
“What did y’all talk about?”
“Did he ask for your number?”
“Do you think he’s into you?”
“Did you touch at all?”
“Would you marry him if he asked tonight?”
Claire tried not to laugh, her fingers gripping the steering wheel as Macie and Sara launched questions from the backseat like caffeinated investigators.
Finally, she cut through the noise. “We had a walk. Just a walk. We talked the entire time. And”—she shot them a look in the rearview—“I’m not sure I’ve ever laughed that much with a guy in such a short amount of time. No kissing. No touching. Just… talking.”
Sara and Macie exchanged a look. One of those looks. The kind that said they knew something Claire didn’t. Like they’d just seen a preview to a movie Claire hadn’t caught yet.
Then—of course—it was Sara who broke the silence.
“Okay, but like… can you imagine kissing his fine ass?”
“Oh, hold on,” Macie said, dramatic as hell, closing her eyes and puckering her lips like she was auditioning for a romance novel cover. “Let me see…”
The whole car erupted in laughter—Claire choking on her breath, Sara howling, Taylor in the passenger seat wheezing like she just did a set of crunches. Claire had to pull over for a second, tears in her eyes from laughing too hard.
“Y’all are unhinged,” she said, wiping her eyes.
“And you’re smitten,” Macie shot back with a wink.
Claire just kept smiling as she turned back onto the road. She didn’t deny it.
Because yeah—maybe she was.
Meanwhile, across town, the guys were heading back to Tides Rising to grab their trucks. Trevor and Carter hadn’t let up since they left the beach.
“I’m telling you,” Carter said from the passenger seat, “she’s not gonna call.”
“Yeah, no way,” Trevor added. “You didn’t even get her number.”
Jaxon gripped the wheel tighter than necessary. “Fellas,” he said, trying not to grin, “after that walk? If she doesn’t call me, I’ll be shocked.”
Trevor turned in his seat. “Damn, Jax. She’s already got a grip on you?”
“It’s something about her, Trev. I don’t know what it is,” Jaxon admitted, voice dipping into something quieter. “It felt like we picked up right where we left off before the plane landed. Like nothing had skipped.”
“If it’s already like that, she’s gonna have your ass applying for a Georgia driver’s license,” Carter teased, just as they pulled into the Tides lot.
“Shut the hell up. Get out of my truck,” Jaxon laughed, throwing it in park.
“Call me if you need a wingman at the wedding,” Carter called over his shoulder.
Jaxon just flipped him off and pulled away, shaking his head.
But as soon as his tires hit the road, the smile faded slightly. The silence crept in. And the night rewound.
Every step of their walk.
Every time she laughed.
The way her hair caught the breeze like it belonged to the wind itself.
The way her eyes didn’t flinch from his—not once.
He was halfway home before he realized he hadn’t turned the radio on. Or noticed how fast he was driving. By the time he parked in his driveway, he sat there for a minute, headlights still casting shadows on his garage.
Damn.
He finally climbed out, headed inside, ran through his usual routine—teeth, shower, bed. But when he laid down, arms folded behind his head, staring up at the ceiling fan spinning slow above him, his brain refused to shut off.
Will she call tomorrow?
God, I hope she does.
Because the thing was—he had no way to reach her if she didn’t.
He’d given her the card. That was it. She had to make the next move.
And that thought sat heavy in his chest.
So he did the only thing he could do—he replayed the night like a highlight reel. Her smile. Her voice. Her laugh. The way she listened. The way she looked at him, like she saw through all the bullshit.
Eventually, exhaustion dragged him under.
Back on Caswell, Claire was already asleep.
Not because she wasn’t curious. Not because she wasn’t tempted to text him right then.
But because she wanted tomorrow to get here faster.
She’d pulled the business card from her purse, saved the number under his name. Jaxon Stone. No emojis. No nicknames. Just the name. And that same little flutter in her chest every time she saw it.
She’d call him.
She knew she would.
But tonight? Tonight was for dreaming about all the things they hadn’t said yet.
And in the dark of her room, the soft crash of waves in the distance, Claire smiled.