“Well, if you see him again,” Taylor chimed in from the closet, “why don’t you just ask him?”
Claire laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Doubt I’ll ever see him again. I don’t even know where he’s from exactly.”
“You didn’t ask?” Macie blinked like Claire had just admitted to a felony. “With his fine ass, I would’ve gotten everything but his Social Security number.”
“I would’ve asked for that,” Macie added with a smirk.
“Alright,” Taylor said, cutting through the noise, “let’s leave poor Claire alone and figure out what we’re eating before Sara eats one of us.”
Sara’s voice shot back, “I’m just saying, I’m starving and y’all are talking about some mystery man in a suit instead of shrimp tacos.”
They finally landed on a spot—Tides Rising Bar and Grill, a waterfront place in Oak Island that had great reviews and outdoor seating. Sara had insisted they try somewhere new, and Claire hadn’t had the energy to argue. She was too wrapped up in trying to scrub Jaxon’s voice out of her mind.
The girls piled into the SUV and made the fifteen-minute drive with the windows down and music blasting. Claire let the wind hit her face, hoping it would clear out the part of her that still wanted answers. Still wanted him.
When they arrived, the warm coastal air wrapped around them like a second skin. As they stepped inside, a blonde hostess greeted them with a smile that had probably been fake for hours.
“Would you like to sit outside, on the deck?” she asked.
“That sounds great,” Sara answered, already halfway to the doors.
“This place just feels like a vacation,” Taylor said as they weaved through the packed dining area.
Claire took it in—the string lights, the smell of fried seafood and citrus, the soft hum of people trying to forget their real lives for a while. “All the years we’ve come here, and we’ve never been,” she mused.
The doors opened onto a wide deck overlooking the Sound. A salty breeze kissed their skin, just enough to feel like freedom. Below, the water glittered with reflections of the setting sun. It was perfect.
“This place is genius,” Macie said, tossing her bag down as she sat. “Whoever named it deserves a raise. Tides Rising? Come on. The deck literally overlooks the Sound. Iconic.”
Her comment made the waitress laugh—an easy sound that caught the girls off guard. They hadn’t seen her walk up.
“I like you already,” the waitress said, pulling out her notepad. “What can I get y’all to drink?”
They rattled off their orders, but the waitress added, “Mixed drinks have to be ordered at the bar tonight. We’re slammed and I don’t want to keep you waiting.”
Claire nodded. “No worries.”
But Sara? Sara was already annoyed. Patience was not her spiritual gift.
“And where’s the bar?” she asked, arms crossed, voice sharp enough to cut glass.
The waitress motioned toward the large window that gave a direct view into the indoor bar—and that’s when Sara’s whole face changed.
“Holy shit,” she whispered. “Never mind.”
Behind the bar stood a man—tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a fitted black polo that clung to muscles he definitely didn’t get from bartending. Clean-shaven. Baby-faced, but sharp. Focused. Calm.
And for a second—
Just a second—
Sara forgot how to breathe.
4
Familiar Eyes
Thebarwaspacked—shoulderto shoulder, elbow to elbow, heat in the air that had nothing to do with the weather. Claire and Sara made their way through the crowd, finally sliding into the only open spot at the far end of the bar. Not ideal, but with a line forming behind them, it was either this or nothing.
