Page 8 of Run for Us

“Sterling Crest, and honestly, I just needed to slow down and find myself. Turning thirty is a big deal to my mother and the socialites there. To them, I am past my prime, too old to find a husband and trap him with children.”

Shore throws his head back and laughs. “I mean, thirty seems old, but who needs a husband if you’re a strong, independent woman? Any man would be crazy not to see how stunning you are, though.”

I blush at his words. “And how old are you, exactly?”

“Twenty-one, but don’t let my good looks and age fool you. I already own a food truck that sells the best crab tacos you have ever tasted. And do you see the lighthouse out there? I also partly own it.”

“It sounds like you do well for yourself.”

I shouldn’t be jealous of how carefree he seems, and how animated he is about his life. I know the dreaded question is coming next.

“So, what do you do in Sterling Crest? To my knowledge, the town is full of the filthy rich.”

He isn’t wrong, and it’s sad that people know that without ever stepping foot in the place. “I mainly design high-end dresses.”

“Nice. How much was the last dress you designed worth?”

Embarrassment hits me. I hate the price associated with the Ellsworth name; it’s why I wanted to run away at eighteen and never look back. Some people struggle to put food on the table, and yet a single dress can cost over four times the average yearly wage.

“Close to half a million.”

Shore coughs. “That is a lot of money.”

I nod. “Not all of it goes to me, obviously. I only design them. But yes, it is a lot of money. Not that I ever wanted that life.” I whisper the last part as we arrive at a food truck with “Shore Bites” painted across the front.

Shore opens the side—no lock in sight—and pops his head in, then his shoulders relax.

“No crabs,” he announces. “So, what is it you wanted to do—if you could have picked anything?”

“I wanted to draw, maybe even paint. The plan after college was to travel the world and do just that, but life has a funny way of getting in the way.”

He doesn’t reply, instead offering me his hand and pulling me inside the van. “I don’t open for another hour or so, and my mom should be here soon with the cooked crabs.”

He hands me an apron, and he wraps the other one around his half-naked body. I’m slightly disappointed he is covering up his skin. He might be too young for me, but he is nice to look at.

Shore shows me how he gets ready for the day, and I’m shocked at how much food he prepares. He tells me that with the festival on, there are a lot more tourists and people from neighboring towns. When his mom arrives, she is everything you could imagine a mom from a small town to be, and the polar opposite of my mother, the ice queen.

My first day here, and I already have a standing invitation to dinner at her house. Shore is an open book and tells me stories of his siblings who all have ocean-themed names, and he explains his parents also foster kids.

Is it wrong to wish you were born into a family like that—where money, while necessary, isn’t so important? Rather, it’s about love and family. I know I have Jace, and I will forever be grateful; I’m not certain I would have survived without him. He is the closest person I have to a sibling, but hearing Shore talk about his brothers and sister warms my heart and makes me realize what I have missed.

Maybe Jace is right, and I need to live a little. Not that I need masked men to chase me to live, but what can it hurt? At the very least, it can be something I look back on and remember when I’m old and working eighty-hour weeks while living with a husband who wishes he traded up while he still could.

Chapter Five

Kasen

We all signed the Wild Steps paperwork last night. It was all fairly straightforward, stating that we are to do whatever the client wants. We also had to fill out any of our own hard limits. Shore clearly has none. I draw the line at any bodily fluids that belong in a toilet, and Rip will follow our lead. He also has a safe word, so if he needs to, he can walk away.

Kennedy emailed me this morning, as Kinsley signed off on her forms and attached her limits. It seems our new arrival has taken very little off the table, though she agrees she is not into being pissed on, thank god. If someone is into that kind of thing, more power to them, but it’s not for me.

I laugh when I read that her safe word ispotato.Clearly, her run-in with Shore yesterday was memorable. The guy is obsessed with potatoes—if there is a lull in conversation, the idiot will fill the void with facts about them. If I hear one more, I might poke my own eardrums out just so I don’t have to listen.

A package containing masks was sent to us overnight. The client apparently gets to choose, and I roll my eyes at the thought of wearing a glowing mask. I would much prefer something cool, like a Michael Myersmask or even a gas mask, but for what we’re being paid, I’ll wear whatever she wants.

“What about Sea Pine Grove? It’s always deserted out there, and the old lifeguard station is spooky at night,” Shore suggests.

The town isn’t lacking for forsaken locations. Everyone has lived here long enough that they don’t go looking for abandoned spots in town to explore. And if we get arrested, Shore’s brother will understand. The town is pretty relaxed, and we have almost zero crime.

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