Chapter 15 The View
The View
Claire barely had time to sit before she heard the familiar rumble of Jaxon’s truck pulling into the drive. The girls shot off the couch like they were being chased, bags in hand, laughter already spilling through the room.
Claire followed behind, the last one to the door. She locked it, turned—and there he was.
Leaning against the truck, arms crossed, smile waiting.
She smiled back without hesitation before heading down the steps.
“How was your morning, ladies?” Jaxon asked as they climbed into the truck, his voice laced with amusement.
“Just peachy,” Sara muttered, pure sarcasm and sunglasses.
“Well,” Jaxon laughed, “your SUV’s at my house. Mike dropped it off after closing down last night. Figured you could come early, hang out while I set up and cook.”
From the backseat, Sara leaned in and whispered, “He cooks?”
Claire gave the smallest nod and replied without looking at her. “He didn’t have to do that.”
“I asked him to,” Jaxon said, catching her eyes in the mirror. “Didn’t like the idea of your rental sitting in a dark parking lot all night.”
When they pulled into the driveway, the SUV sat parked and waiting on the right side, the soft late-afternoon sun kissing its windshield. Jaxon handed Claire the keys before stepping out and walking toward the house.
“Wow,” Taylor breathed, slowing on the sidewalk. “This house is… stunning.”
“Thank you,” Jaxon replied, unlocking the front door. “She didn’t always look like this. Took a little elbow grease.”
He stepped back and motioned inside. “Come on in. Make yourselves at home. I’ve got to get to work in the kitchen.”
“Can we look around?” Sara blurted out.
Jaxon smirked. “Go for it. Grand tour’s all yours.”
That was all the permission they needed.
The girls turned into the house like they were filming an episode of HGTV: Coastal Lust Edition. Claire followed, hanging back just enough to watch them soak it all in.
They headed straight to the dining room, flipping on the lights to reveal an oak slab table that looked hand-carved and deliberate. The walls were deep navy with white wainscoting, and above the table hung a rustic chandelier that looked like it belonged in a magazine spread.
Macie turned to Claire, wide-eyed. “Who the hell is this guy?”
Claire opened her mouth, but Sara beat her to it.
“This is nice,” she said, already looking toward the hallway. “But I want to see the bedroom. Which way, Claire?”
Claire held up her hands. “Your guess is as good as mine. I didn’t go in last night.”
They all turned to look at her like she’d committed a felony.
“We had dinner outside. Down by the dock.”
Macie gasped. “Claire Stone, you lucky witch.”
They moved on, climbing the stairs with the same energy as a group of teenage girls at their first sleepover. Room by room, they peeked in, complimented, giggled—and then paused at the only door left shut.
They all looked at each other.
“This has to be it,” Macie whispered.
“What if it’s just a bed and a TV like every other dude?” Taylor said.
Claire rolled her eyes. “Have you seen the rest of this house?”
She opened the door slowly—and every breath left the room at once.
The view was the first thing that hit them.
The window shades were raised high, and through the glass, endless marshland stretched toward the horizon, water glinting in the distance. It looked like something out of a dream—like the world had folded in just for this house to exist on the edge of it.
“Can you imagine waking up to this every morning?”
“You should find out,” Sara said under her breath.
Claire’s cheeks turned crimson as she stepped inside.
The room was soft and warm—walls painted a calming silver-gray, furniture in honey-stained oak, floors rich with natural grain and charm. Every inch of it felt like peace. Like something built to come home to.
They moved into the master bath, greeted by sleek white tile and clean lines. A soaker tub sat like a sculpture beneath a frosted window, and a glass-encased shower stood nearby, waterfall fixture gleaming.
“This is straight out of a Pinterest board,” Macie whispered.
“I’d live in here,” Taylor added.
“I’d never leave the tub,” Sara announced as she stepped inside—clothed—and pretended to hold an imaginary glass of wine. “Sis, this man is one of a kind. You better lock it down before someone else does.”
Claire laughed, brushing off the comment with a wave.
But inside?
She wasn’t brushing it off.
Because all the way down the stairs—her hand trailing the banister, the sounds of her friends ahead of her—she couldn’t stop seeing it.
That bed.
That view.
That bath.
And Jaxon… walking up behind her. Wrapping his arms around her waist. Whispering good morning. Touching her like she was his beginning and end.
How the hell is this happening?
They had only known each other a few days.
But her heart?
It was already acting like it knew the ending.
And just before they turned into the kitchen, Macie’s voice cut through her daydream.
“I still can’t believe we have to leave in a few days.”
Claire didn’t respond.
Because for the first time… she wasn’t so sure she wanted to.