Page 52 of Tourist Trap

So far I’ve had to go into the water after an adult let their inner tube drift out too far, only to do itagainan hour later. That resulted in my sending Helen a text to consider banning the tubes in the water, a rule we’re enacting starting tomorrow.

I also had to take a kid to the first aid stand when he stepped on a crab, then listened to his mother tell me I should do a better job at making sure there is nothing that can hurt her child on thenatural beach.

Finally, ten minutes ago, I had to leave my post and argue with a family who decided to set up camp dead center in the roped-off area right in front of my chair. The dad spent half the time arguing with me, half of it staring at my boobs before his wife finally told him to go find another spot.

I’m grumbling to myself as I climb back up to my chair when I get a new text from Miles.

Do you need this?

I smile at the text and the accompanying photo he sends, my sticker-laden water bottle on the counter, the one that’s nearly surgically attached to me most of the time. I realized I left it behind this morning and grabbed a plastic one from the lifeguard house but in this heat, it got warm and gross in less than a half hour.

MY BABY.

I can’t believe I left her at home.

I try not to think too much about calling Miles’s placehomeor how much it actually feels that way.

Want me to bring it to you?

I smile wide, then look around to see if anyone is watching me. It feels like some kind of secret every time Miles texts me, since I don’t think I ever see the man scrolling his phone or even using it for anything other than calls.

But he texts me.

I would do crazy things for you if you did.

I should send a follow-up text to explain and make it less weird, because I can justpicturehim blushing, and even though I refuse to stop altogether (I think I’m physically incapable), I have been making an effort to tone it down lately. But before I can, he replies.

Where are you posted?

I look at my watch, then at the boardwalk, and decide I can take my break a bit early. I turn to Carly, who is on post with me, and tell her I’ll be back in thirty before moving down the beach toward where my things are to grab them, and so I can tell Helen I’m headed on break.

Lifeguard house? I’m about to take my break.

I ignore the way I want to add,to hang out with you.It wouldn’t be the first time. Occasionally, Miles would have his lunch on the boardwalk, grabbing a slice of pizza or a sausage sandwich, and I’d meet him there, sometimes June or Grant joining us, and sometimes just us.

I’ll be there in five.

I’ll meet you on the boards.

With a rush of girly excitement, I make my way down the beach to where the covered lifeguard beach house is on the sand, opening the door to grab my bag.

“Wow, what happened in here?” I ask as Helen sits at the desk, her graying dark hair in a messy knot on top of her head, dozens of papers around her.

“The devil,” she groans, and I let out a laugh.

“I’m sorry?”

“Budgets. The devil. Same thing.” I nod with understanding, even if I don’tactuallyunderstand. Helen sometimes speaks in a code only she understands, but if you give her a minute to process, she always interprets and clarifies. “I don’t think the department can fund the soccer league this fall,” she says with a sigh.

Instead of reaching for my bag like planned, I take a step closer, arms crossed on my chest. “Do they normally?”

She nods. “The coaches are all volunteers, and we try to make it so the kids don’t have entry fees. But we still have to pay for league fees, field rentals, jerseys, snacks…unfortunately, the town cut our funding this year. I think we’ll have to charge for the program.”

I see the scattered papers before her and tip my chin toward them.

“Do you mind?” I ask. “If I take a look?”

She waves her hands at me, then shifts her rolling chair back to give me room. “Not at all. My old eyes aren’t too good at these things anymore.”

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