Page 44 of Tourist Trap

He shakes his head like he’s disappointed in me. “Looks like fun.”

“No,” I repeat, grabbing up the beer I’ve been nursing all night and taking a sip.

“You’re fucking scared of her,” he says with a laugh after a beat. “Never thought I’d see it.”

“Scared of a five-foot-two blonde? No, I’m not.”

“You totally are,” June says next to him, though I’m not sure when she got here.

My eyes shift to Claire’s best friend, and I glare. I open my mouth to argue, but then June’s brows furrow, and I look up, following her line of sight.

Sam Fields, an asshole who graduated a year below me is standing next to Claire, his hand on her bare shoulder. Claire gives him a small shake of her head, then tips her head toward our table. Instead of getting the hint, he takes a step further into her space, and Claire’s body goes tight. She shakes her head once more, and Sam’s hand goes out to grab her wrist.

I don’t know what happens next.

Something inside me snaps, and I’m on the other side of the room before I can even recognize I’m moving.

“Claire,” I say, reaching out and grabbing her free hand, tugging her toward me. Sam immediately drops his hand and steps back.

Sam is an ass, a player, and a loser, but he’s not an idiot.

“Sorry, man. I didn’t know she was yours.”

I tug Claire into my chest, and without even missing a beat, she slides her hands around my neck. I watch as Sam moves off to someone else, this one more willing.

“Thank you,” Claire whispers when my eyes travel back to hers.

“He’s a dick. Not a problem usually, but when he drinks, he gets a bit weird.”

She nods, and I could step away, lead her back to the table, go get her a drink, take her outside for some air. But…

I don’t.

Instead, I wrap an arm around her waist, pull her in close, and start to sway to the slow ’70s rock ballad that’s now playing.

This is such a fucking bad idea. A horrible, terrible fucking idea, but I can’t seem to stop myself all the same.

“A dance?” she asks, a small smile on her lips.

“Don’t want to make a scene,” I lie because, for all intents and purposes, the scene has already been made. I can see it by the way Grant and June whisper to each other and the way Lainey is back behind the bar, smiling.

“Hmm,” Claire says like she doesn’t believe me, but she leans into my body, swaying to the song with me.

I take a deep breath, her strawberries and cream scent filling my lungs, forcing myself to commit it to memory.

As if it’s not already there.

“Does this check something on my list?” I ask without meaning to.

“Are you having fun?”

I should lie.

I should tell her I’m not. That she’s ruining my relaxing night, that I much prefer when this place is quiet and the tables are normal and no one talks to me, but I’m a fucking idiot, so I don’t.

“The most fun night I can remember having at the Seabreeze.”

“Yeah?” she asks with a hopeful smile, and I nod. “What’s different?”

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