Claireshould’vebeenfocusedon dinner.
She should’ve been soaking in the view, laughing with her friends, shoveling shrimp and fries like everyone else at the table. But her fork kept drifting in lazy circles on her plate, nudging food back and forth like maybe she could rearrange her appetite into something resembling normal.
But it wasn’t.
Because her appetite was elsewhere.
Across the deck, through the windows, inside the bar—where Jaxon Stone was holding court like it was his own damn kingdom.
She watched him laugh, nod, clap a guy on the shoulder like they’d known each other for years. He moved through the space like he belonged there. Not trying. Not reaching. Just… owning it. And fuck, did he look different from the man she sat beside on the plane.
That version had been pressed in a suit, controlled and cool, hiding the heat under layers of fabric and distance. This version? Hat turned backward now, forearms inked and tan, that signature Carolina beard in full force… this version wasn’t hiding a damn thing.
God, he’s arrogant, she thought, stabbing a piece of shrimp without actually lifting it. Arrogant and frustrating and... impossibly attractive. But who cares? I’m on vacation. I don’t need to get to know him.
She told herself that.
Twice.
Didn’t believe it either time.
“Why don’t you go talk to him?” Taylor asked from across the table, interrupting her spiral. “Or better yet—ask him to come out here?”
Claire blinked. “Because I’m not doing that, obviously.”
Before Taylor could respond, the waitress appeared beside them with a notepad and a tired smile. “Can I get you ladies anything?”
Taylor pointed a french fry directly toward the bar without shame. “Yeah. What can you tell us about that guy over there—with the hat?”
“Taylor!” Claire hissed. “Seriously?”
The waitress followed the fry’s direction. Her face lit up. “You mean Jax?”
“Jax?” Taylor repeated.
“Yeah. His name’s Jaxon Stone, but his friends call him Jax.”
“Even his name is sexy,” Macie muttered under her breath.
Claire groaned.
Sara jumped in next, chewing like she had zero shame. “They met on the plane, and he kind of blew her off after they landed. What’s his deal?”
The waitress paused, a slow grin tugging at her lips. “You know how every beach town has its thing? Like, a gimmick or some kind of tourist trap?”
Everyone leaned in, sensing the drop.
“Well… Jax is the tourist trap.”
The table fell quiet.
“Okay, what the hell does that mean?” Macie asked.
The waitress leaned her weight on one hip, clearly enjoying the moment. “It means he’s southern as hell—got the charm, the tan, the voice. The beard, obviously. He’s got a real job, dresses sharp when he needs to, and makes everyone around him feel like they’re the only person in the room. Every woman he talks to? They leave with that what if look in their eyes.”
“So... he’s a player?” Taylor asked.
“Not really. More of a flirt. He listens. Says just enough to hook you, but never too much. You feel like he sees you, and then he smiles, thanks you for the chat, and disappears into the night. I’ve tried, believe me. And I don’t get passed over often.”
