Chapter 34 Tourist Spotting
Tourist Spotting
After scarfing down breakfast and cleaning up like they were on a timed cooking show, the girls made their way out to the dock, bare feet dangling over the water.
“I swear,” Macie said, sighing into the breeze, “we’ve been here how many times now? And this view just keeps getting better.”
“It’s the peace,” Taylor said. “Everything just... slows down here.”
“It’s the kind of place,” Sara murmured, “you could see yourself staying. All the time.”
There was a pause. One of those soft, dangerous ones.
“Okay,” Macie said, “instead of going out tonight, how about we cook dinner? We eat out here. Dock lights, music, wine—vibes.”
“I’m in,” Taylor agreed.
“Let’s do it,” Sara nodded. “But we’re replacing everything we used of Jaxon’s. Man stocks his fridge like it’s an apocalypse bunker.”
They headed for the SUV, pulling out their phones to start a shared grocery list.
“What do you think Claire and Jaxon are doing right now?” Macie asked as she climbed into the passenger seat.
“Knowing my sister?” Sara said, pulling out of the driveway. “Probably shopping for something she saw on a girl’s Pinterest board last week.”
“Doubt it. Jaxon doesn’t strike me as the ‘hold my purse outside’ type.”
“Nah,” Macie grinned. “He’s probably got her eating at some random diner with the best food in the city and a health rating just barely hanging on.”
The car filled with laughter.
The grocery store parking lot was hell.
Peak season. Packed rows. Sunscreen in the air and chaos everywhere.
“Everyone’s trying to squeeze in one last beach selfie before school starts,” Sara said, wedging the SUV into a space the width of a sandwich bag.
“I know we’ll be in here a while thanks to Chef Sara,” Macie said, stepping out and dodging a rogue shopping cart. “Let’s make this fun.”
“What, like make a video?”
“No. Count the bathing suits.”
“Wait—what?”
“Y’know. Girls in unbuttoned jean shorts with bikini tops acting like it’s an outfit. Bonus points if their flip-flops slap louder than their attitudes.”
“Don’t forget the beach bros,” Taylor added. “Tank tops, swim trunks, and always—always—a case of beer and a bag of ice like they just remembered their cooler was empty.”
“I’ll count those,” Sara smirked, grabbing a cart. “First one already—dude coming out with a case of regrets.”
Macie pointed. “Two bikini girls by the entrance.”
“Aisle three,” Taylor whispered once inside. “Girl in suit bottoms only. Her confidence is unmatched.”
The laughter was already echoing off the cereal shelves.
“Taylor,” Sara deadpanned, “maybe you tell us what’s on the list before we end up on a Walmart cringe reel.”
Taylor rolled her eyes. “Bread, eggs, grits, ham, shrimp, drinks, beer.”
Sara blinked. “Grits? Why?”
“For dinner.”
“We’re eating grits for dinner?”
“Yes, if Chef Sara would stop questioning the executive chef’s vision.”
“Two more guys with beer,” Sara added, checking a mental tally.
“And potatoes,” Taylor tacked on.
Macie laughed. “Imagine what that woman we just passed thinks—Sara calling out potatoes and then ‘two more dudes with beer.’ She’s probably wondering what aisle we’re finding men on.”
“Price check on aisle five,” Sara deadpanned. “Two shirtless dudes with Coors and questionable life choices.”
They were still laughing when someone walked up behind them.
“Jesus, we could hear you two aisles over,” said a voice.
They turned—Carter and Trevor, both grinning and, yep, both holding beer.
Sara pointed without hesitation. “Two more. Tank tops. Beer. Classic.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Carter laughed.
“We’re tourist spotting,” Macie said. “It’s a thing.”
“You girls are unhinged,” Trevor said.
“Fully,” Taylor replied. “So. Dinner tonight. You’re coming.”
“What’s on the menu?” Carter asked.
“Food.”
“No shit.”
“You’ll find out,” Taylor smirked. “Show up at Jaxon’s around seven.”
“Isn’t Jaxon still in Denver?”
“Long story,” Sara said, already walking off. “Just show up.”
“We’ll bring more beer,” Carter called out.
Taylor immediately marked it off the list. “Handled.”
The checkout line was as long as the interstate. After an agonizing twenty minutes of impulse buys and overheard drama, they loaded the SUV with grocery bags stacked like Tetris blocks.
Sara returned the cart like a responsible citizen.
“Twelve,” she said, sliding back into the driver’s seat.
“Twelve what?” Macie asked.
“Guys. Tank tops. Beer. Trunks. Twelve.”
Taylor cackled. “You actually counted?”
“Of course I did. We don’t half-ass around here.”
Sara rolled down the windows, turned the music all the way up, and pulled out of the lot with the energy of a girl about to run someone over with vibes alone.
“Alright, bitches,” she grinned, throwing it into drive. “Let’s go get hot, drunk, and emotionally unstable.”