Page 4 of Run for Us (Masked Men #6)

Chapter Four

Kinsley

“What do you mean, she’s locked in the bathroom? Jace, what did you do to that poor woman? And if you say nothing , I will sack-whack you the next time I see you.”

Jace chuckles as I look out over the water, pausing my sketch of the boat in the distance.

“I swear on my life, I didn’t do anything. She...” He clears his throat and lowers his voice. “Farted from the front. It was funny.”

I gasp. “You did not laugh at her, you idiot. Not the first time! Slide the phone under the door and put me on speaker.”

“Baby, Kins wants to talk to you.”

Willow groans.

“Hey, I just wanted to tell you that my cousin is a dickhead. He needs to remember that one time he farted in the bath and shat himself, or the time he got so blackout drunk he woke up in my mom’s bathtub on the morning she had important guests.

There is nothing you can do that would outshine the embarrassment that man has brought upon himself. ”

She sniffles. “Thanks, Kinsley. I’m just mortified.”

“The first time is always the worst, but men are disgusting creatures and don’t care about that. Now, if he farts, punch him in the nuts for me.”

That makes her chuckle.

“Ask her if she has thought anymore about the dicks,” I hear Jace yell.

“I take it you heard that?” Willow chuckles. “I can vouch for his idea. Wild Steps opened me up to a world I never imagined was possible.”

I sigh. “I’m considering it, but paying for sex?”

“Tell my cousin she isn’t paying for sex. I’m paying for it.”

Both Willow and I laugh. Sometimes I swear Jace and I hear each other’s thoughts.

“Don’t overthink it. Have one fuck-it moment while you are still in your twenties.

Maybe it will give you some clarity. I know I have said it so many times, Kins, but your future can look however you want it to.

Just because an ex is having a baby shower, and your friends are getting married, doesn’t mean you have to.

There is nothing wrong with not wanting children, or even marriage, and if you want to stay in a small town and paint pictures of the ocean, do it. Only you can decide what you want.”

“Thanks, Willow, and I stand by the fact that you are way too good for Jace.”

She snorts. “I wish that were true, but he treats me like a queen.”

“He is a good man. Don’t tell him I said that, or I will deny it.”

We end the call, and I pack my sketch pad back in my bag. A man running toward me catches my eye. It’s the same young guy from the tattoo shop.

“Hey, new girl,” he says with laughter in his tone as he rushes past me.

That’s when I notice there’s another man chasing after him in nothing but boxer briefs. I smirk as he gets closer. Back in Sterling Crest, seeing someone half-dressed wasn’t always a pleasure. Normally, they were homeless or on some sort of drugs, but this man doesn’t seem like either type.

“I’m going to kill you when I catch you, Tyde,” he yells, but slows as he gets closer and plops down on the bench seat beside me.

“Hi,” he gets out between huffing breaths.

Everyone in this town is so friendly. Every person I have come across says hello or has stopped to talk to me. Maybe they don’t get new people around here very often.

“Hi. Did he steal your clothes?”

The man laughs. “No, this is a new wardrobe choice. The asshole delivered live crabs to my food van.”

“What do you have against crabs?” I ask, tilting my head.

His eyes go wide. “Crabs are demon creatures. Pure propaganda has brainwashed the masses. People think they’re fine, but how else do they know how to burst from the sand and sprint at you unless they’re trained commandos?

Seriously, have you ever met anyone who isn’t terrified of spiders?

Crabs are basically armored spiders with knives for hands, but people just shrug, like, ‘Nah, they’re harmless.

’ No, they’re not harmless. They can’t even walk in a straight line.

Those freaky little fuckers deserve to die. ”

“Well,” I say with a chuckle, “you seem very passionate about your hatred of crabs.”

“Damn right I am, but my love of potatoes makes up for it. I could talk about potatoes all day.” He grins, waving his hand in the air.

“Did you know there are over five thousand types out there? Russets for that perfect, fluffy mash, Yukon Golds for creamy scalloped layers, and those little fingerlings—tiny, buttery nuggets you roast with rosemary until they’re crisp.

And don’t even get me started on purple potatoes.

Seriously, a world without potatoes is like a beach without sand—just unthinkable. I’m Shore, by the way.”

“Kinsley. Nice to meet you,” I say as he leans back on the seat, his legs slightly spread and his arms draped along the backrest as he soaks up the sun’s rays.

His golden-kissed skin is that of a local—someone who spends a lot of time outdoors—and his blonde hair has a natural roughness you could only get from the sea.

“Are you hungry? I’m about to open my food van and I would love to cook you a welcome-to-town lunch.”

I open my mouth to say no, but then remember why I’m here. This guy is way too young for me, but I need to step outside my tightly locked box and experience the world. After Teddy died, life scared me, and all I did was work.

“I would love that, actually.”

He jumps from the chair and holds his hand out to help me up. His large hand swallows mine.

I straighten out my dress, and we walk side by side.

“So, Kinsley, where are you from and what brings you to Bluebell Bay? Few travelers stop in here.”

“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.