like this. Other than the run-in with those locals, today couldn’t have been any better.
After Isaac got back from his run and we stuffed ourselves with s’mores, we sat around while everyone shared stories about growing up on this beach. They all lit up with stories about Lana, their sister, all except for Aaron and Leah, who were too young to remember much of her.
As quiet as Isaac and Trix are now, I have to think they’re lost in memories of her life or her death.
“Thank you for this.” Trix slides her hand into mine. “We needed this day.”
Her face is free of makeup and a little sunburnt and reveals so much more than her beauty, something heavy. It’s the softness in her eyes, the transparency of a day without guards up, and the vulnerability of being herself rather than Trix the Vegas stripper. It’s as if I’m seeing her.
I pick up her hand and press her knuckles to my lips. “I needed you like this today.”
Her mouth tilts in a shy smile.
“Feels good to get you away from Vegas. Here you’re Bea, the greatest big sister ever.” My thumb traces circles against her wrist. “Not Trix, the . . .” Stripper.
Her smile falls. “Yeah.”
I don’t mean to upset her, but after these last few days, having her in my bed in Vegas, spending time with her at my beach, and watching her with her family, I don’t want to give her back. The thought of her dancing for strangers, using a body that I’ve watched comfort her young siblings, a body I’ve claimed for myself, it’s enough to make me want to pop the eyes from every man who steps foot inside Zeus’s.
I place one last lingering kiss against her hand. “It’s getting late. I don’t want your parents to worry.”
“Sucks, but . . .” She nods and shifts, waking the sleeping kids sprawled on her lap. “Wake up, guys.” She runs her fingers through their hair. “Time to go.”
Life returns to their faces and their limbs as they yawn and stretch. After a few protests, they get up, and we pack up our day-long campsite and head to the parking lot.
“Whose truck is this?” Trix brings over a stack of towels she’s folded and places them on the tailgate while I slide the surfboards into the bed.
“It’s mine.” I shove the towels in the back and take the ice chest from Isaac to load it up. “Drove it in high school.”
She runs her hands along the faded blue paint. “I can see you in this. It’s”—she shrugs one shoulder—“you.”
I slam closed the tailgate. “Thanks. I think?” I nod toward the big white van that is now filled with sandy kids. “Hate to see you go, but I don’t want you on the road too late.”
“Okay.” She knots her hands together and chews her lip.
I stare at her, licking my lips, so desperate to kiss her but knowing I can’t, not with the six sets of eyes that are peering out of the van windows. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” She throws her arms around my neck in a tight hug, her lips finding my neck where she drops a kiss, hidden from prying eyes. “Text me later.”
“Drive safe,” I say into her hair, making sure to draw in one long breath before releasing her. Trix always smells amazing, but her scent mixed with salt water and suntan oil is fucking euphoric.
My eyes devour her legs as she climbs into the van. Twenty-four hours and those’ll be wrapped around my hips. Hang in there, man. I adjust my board shorts to accommodate the raging hard-on that seemed to rise up instantly.
Trix waves at me from the window before reversing out of her spot.
I stand in the lot, watching until the red glow of her tail lights disappears around the corner.
“Things are going to change when we get back to Vegas, Surfer Girl. I just hope you’re ready for it.”
Twenty-four
Trix
My dad’s birthday party is in full swing. A yard full of kids and a few dozen friends from church all huddle around, laughing and eating cake. Mason showed up about an hour ago and was nearly tackled by my brothers and sisters the second his feet hit the front porch. Even Isaac seemed eager to get Mason outside to throw the football. With a quick hug and kiss to my forehead, he indulged my siblings.
It’s selfish, but part of me is ready to get back to Vegas so I can have