“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.”
35
No Frills
Jaxonhadspenttheafternoon guiding Claire through every tucked-away shop Denver had to offer. He wasn’t just showing her around—he was showing her his way of seeing the world. One local gem at a time.
Now, he carried her bags like a pack mule with a good attitude.
