“Right,” Cole chuckled. “They’d probably fucking pass. And my luck, that shit would get around. I’d never get laid again.”

We shared a laugh, then the bell chimed behind us, indicating someone was stepping inside the shop. I turned my head and watched Tori walk inside.

She was wearing a sweater that dipped low in the front and showed some of her cleavage—all fucking class, though—tight faded jeans that had tears up the front of one thigh, and black knee-high boots. Her jeans were tucked into them. Her hair was half up out of her face, except for those pieces that always fell out and wouldn’t stay behind her ears. Her eyes were lined black. Her lips were painted red. And she was smiling big at me as she lifted her hand to wave.

“’Sup, babe?” I greeted her, turning sideways so I could see her better. “Got the shirts in. Perfect timing.”

“Oh, good!” She clapped her hands together and started walking over. “I told Dad they were set to come in this week. I wanted to grab a couple for him and Mom.”

“Set you up with that,” I replied.

“I’m heading out. Gonna go grab something to eat,” Cole said. He turned and tipped his chin at Tori. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” she greeted him, smiling as he walked past.

“Later, man,” I called out.

“Later,” Cole replied, getting to the door. “See ya around, Tori.”

“See ya,” she said back, keeping her eyes on me.

Cole stepped outside.

“Hey, you,” Tori said, stopping in front of me. She rolled up onto her toes and tipped her chin up. “Kiss,” she requested.

I grinned at her, keeping my arms pulled across my chest and not bending down. “Fuck?” I countered.

Her head jerked back and her eyes widened. She grabbed my elbows for balance, informing me, “Syd and Brian did it on the desk in the office once.”

“Shit,” I muttered. “He christened the place before I did? What a dick.” I bent down then and kissed her soft mouth. “You look hot.”

“So do you,” she said through a smile, rocking back onto her heels but keeping her hands on me.

“Yeah? Wanna fuck?”

Tori swatted my arm and made a face, letting me know she was down but trying to cover that desire.

I chuckled.

“What size you want for your folks? I got ’em up to 2XL.”

She thought for a second, dropping her hands and leaning to look behind me. “I think Dad is down to an extra-large now. He’s lost close to twenty-five pounds.”

“That’s great, babe,” I replied, meaning that.

I knew how important getting his weight down was for his heart. Not just from Tori telling me, but from Travis mentioning it.

Tori looked at me again. Her mouth was lifted. “Yeah. I’m proud of him. I know it’s been hard. Mom is a medium. And she wanted to send my aunts both out a shirt. I think they’re larges.”

I jerked my chin, then I turned around and fished her out the sizes she needed.

“Got something for your dad in the back,” I said, handing her the shirts. “I’ll grab it for you. You meeting up with them today?”

“Yeah,” she answered. She held the shirts against her chest. “Dad has a follow-up with Travis at two and then we’re going to grab something to eat. It’ll be early, though, so I shouldn’t be home too late.”

“Take the time you need, babe. I’ll be there.”

“I know,” she said, eyes closing when I wrapped my hand around the back of her head and kissed the top of it.

“Lemme grab what I got for your dad so you can head out.”

“’Kay,” she replied. “I’ll browse.”

I chuckled, stepping back to look at her. “You don’t have enough Wax apparel?” I asked, backing away.

Every time Tori came in here, she was leaving with a bag full. Fucking loved that. She was wanting to support me and wasn’t shy about showing it.

Tori made a gasping sound. “What? Never! I can always use more surf tees and booty shorts.” She smiled big, then spun around and started moving about the shop.

Booty shorts. Jesus fucking Christ.

I shook my head, laughing inside my chest, then I turned and headed for the office.

Once in there, I grabbed the hat with the Wax logo John was eyeing up last time he was in here—we were running low so I kept one in the back. Good thing, too, since we ran out last week and the next order wasn’t set to come until the end of the month.

Tori was standing at the counter when I made it back out into the shop again, head down and eyes focused on something. Her profile was tense.

“Babe.”

She looked up, meeting my gaze, and I saw the hurt in her eyes. I stopped at the edge of the counter.

What the fuck?

“Why wouldn’t you tell them about us?” she asked, turning to face me. “How could you not say anything, Jamie? I mean, really, you literally said nothing.”

“What?” Confused, I glanced down at the opened magazine she was standing in front of. Tori had her hand on a page. It was my interview with Rail. She’d read it. Or she at least read the question I’d dodged.

“I don’t answer questions like that, Legs. I told you,” I reminded her, tossing her dad’s hat on the counter next to the stack of shirts. “I’m there to talk about surfing. That’s it. They wanna forget that and try and get personal shit out of me, they’re gonna get those kind of answers.”

“You ‘no commented.’ That’s not an answer.”

“It’s my answer.” I shrugged. “Only one they’re gonna get, too.”

Tori blinked, mouth falling open as she looked down at the magazine. “How many people read this?” she asked, meeting my eyes again. “Ballpark. What do you think? Thousands?”

“Probably.”

“And how many times have we talked about claiming each other?”

I stared at her for a breath, seeing her seriousness and not understanding it, then I harshly wiped my hand down my face, shaking my head before gearing up to argue. “Babe, look—”

“I claimed you to my parents and to five strangers in a restaurant,” she interrupted. “And to everyone on my contact list, which I haven’t cleaned up in, I don’t know, months, so I’m sure there’s people on there I don’t even talk to anymore, but it didn’t matter. I wanted everyone to know, Jamie. I wanted a restaurant full of people. And you had opportunity to claim me in the most public way, the biggest way you could ever claim me, and you don’t.”

She was upset and angry, or she was at least getting there. Over this? What the fuck?

“Quit takin’ it personal, babe,” I said, hoping to squash this. “It’s ain’t personal. I don’t answer those questions. Never have.”

“Quit taking it personal?” she echoed, sticking her hands on her hips, cocking one and hitting me with daggers.

Jesus. She wasn’t letting me squash this. Tori was going to keep going.

“Come here,” I ordered, thinking if I got her in my arms, she’d let this go.

Tori shook her head, standing firm.