Page 8 of Run for Us (Masked Men #6)

Chapter Eight

Kinsley

The girls at work have gossiped about how sore their muscles were after a night of fun.

I always figured it was an exaggeration because I’d experienced nothing like that until today.

Now I have new muscles I never knew existed.

I’d planned to get up at sunrise and sit by the ocean to draw whatever came to mind, but I couldn’t drag myself out of bed.

Strolling down to The Promenade on the hunt for coffee, I smell the delicious scent of food wafting through the air.

I follow my nose until it leads me to Shore Bites, and Shore smiles brightly at me as I join the line.

While I wait for him to serve two women close to his age, I watch as one tries to flirt with him—not that he seems to notice.

“I didn’t expect to see you with so many clothes,” I say when it’s my turn.

“Don’t get used to it. My shirt will be gone by lunchtime. What can I get for you?”

“Tell me you have coffee. I’m so tired my eyes burn.”

Shore smiles at me. “I do. Late night?”

I nod but don’t share why. Last night opened my mind, but it has left me even more confused. Shore makes my coffee while he continues to talk.

“I was up late last night as well. So many questions run through my mind when I stay up late. Like, why is it called ‘after dark’ when it’s really ‘after light’? And why do we press harder on remote-control buttons when the batteries are low?”

I snort. “I do not envy you having a brain that thinks like that—I close my eyes and fall asleep.”

He hands me my coffee, and I take a sip. It’s perfect, and he didn’t even ask how I like it.

He leaves the inside of his truck and pops out the side. We both take a seat at the wooden tables facing the ocean.

“How are you liking Bluebell so far?”

I smile at the thought. I was hesitant to come here, as taking a break meant falling behind at work and disapproval from my mother when I return.

Then add in the fact that I’m almost thirty, hate my life, and don’t know what I want for my future.

Yet, after a few days here, I already feel more relaxed.

At work, there was a time when I enjoyed creating my own designs, not just the clients’ visions, and last night was a liberating reminder of that. I did something solely for myself.

“I love it here,” I admit. “It’s quiet and relaxed. Everyone goes with the flow, and I don’t think I have ever felt so free in my life.”

“I feel like there is a but coming.”

Staring out at the horizon, I take a deep breath. “Not so much a but and more that I just know there is an end date. My life will go back to how it was, and this will all be a distant memory.”

Shore scoots closer to me and throws his arm around my shoulders. I go stiff. A complete stranger consoling me feels odd, and yet Shore either doesn’t pick up on my body language or doesn’t care.

“Why do you have to go back?”

“Because I have a job.”

He moves his arm and turns to face me. “So? People leave their jobs all the time. Why not start a new life? What is stopping you? I’m not saying you must move here or even out of the city, but you’re an adult.

You can choose the life you want, and anyone not willing to support you shouldn’t have a place in your life. ”

He doesn’t understand. I tried once, and Teddy died. Living the life I was born into is how it has been since then, how it needs to be.

“I can see your brain ticking. Just think about it. Life is too short to be stuck doing something you don’t have to.

I understand why some people have no choice, but I googled you, Kinsley.

You are wealthy, intelligent, and have only yourself to support.

Or at least I’m guessing so, since no cum trophies are running around. ”

“I like you, Shore,” I say. He is refreshing. He lives his life how he wants and says whatever he is thinking.

“Go on a date with me, then?”

I snort. “God, no. I mean, you are way too young for me. You are barely twenty-one, and I’m almost thirty.”

Shore shrugs. “If everyone is legal, age doesn’t matter. And it’s only a date, Kinsley, not a marriage proposal. I will take you for a nice meal, and maybe even a walk along the pier. Then, like a gentleman, I will walk you back to your place and say goodnight.”

His eyes shine, and I can see the sincerity.

I’m not used to this. For me, a date symbolizes a few things.

Either a fancy meal that costs more than some people make in a day, which he would pay for, meaning sex afterward—normally a one-night stand, because that is all we have time to maintain.

Or if it’s with someone my mother has set me up with, it’s a business connection, intending to force us together with the hope it goes further.

“I’ll think about it. Shore, I love how free-spirited you are, but my life is not like yours. I wish it was, and that it was so easy to just let it go.”

Shore smiles. “Thinking about it is good enough. I’m persistent without being creepy, and I’ll wear you down. It really is that easy, but I think you’re a little scared. I have time to make you see the light.”

A group of older women walk up to the van, and Shore jumps up when one calls out to him. I decide to stay here and sketch the small boats coming and going, and the birds that follow in hopes of their next meal.

I don’t know how long I sit there before a shadow falls over me. Looking over my shoulder, I see Rip standing behind me, glancing down at my picture, and I snap my sketchbook closed.

“It’s not very good,” I say.

I plan to get some art supplies later today. I want to turn my sketches into paintings so I can hang them in my apartment as reminders of what freedom felt like.

“Can I draw you?” he asks and points to my sketch pad. I hesitate as he sits beside me. “No hand can write your story but your own. Sometimes you just have to pick up the pen and leap.”

I slide the sketchbook toward him, and he smiles.

“How do you do that? Say what someone needs to hear.”

He shrugs as he opens the book, and I look out toward the small waves that break along the shore. “Honestly? Past trauma. I had to be able to read people. It was the difference between being beaten or not.”

“You learned to protect yourself in a way most people never have to. I admire your strength.”

“It is what it is; I can’t change the past. But I now have an amazing support system here, and I’m happy. Being miserable every day isn’t living—it’s existing—and what a waste of life if you don’t live. Dwelling on the past won’t change it, so I choose to be free.”

“Is it that easy?” I ask, sneaking a look at him as the pencil moves across the page. He moves his arm to shield the picture.

“No peeking. And no, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but it’s worth it. Believe it or not, Shore helps me, just by being him.”

“I can see why you keep him around. His energy is contagious. Can I ask you something semi-personal?”

Rip’s hand pauses mid stroke when I place my hand on his arm. He relaxes quickly, then turns to face me with a nod.

“You and Shore . . . are you a couple?”

His lips pull up into a grin. “He asked you out? And you’re smart enough to have seen our interactions.”

“Something like that,” I say, followed by a nervous laugh. I don’t know why Rip makes me nervous, but he does.

“It’s not something we put a label on. He saved my life.

When I was sent to live with the Eastons, I was scared and felt so alone.

I trusted no one, but Shore didn’t give up on me.

If I had nightmares, he would stay up with me and tell me outlandish stories of his adventures.

He made sure I lived every day until I was no longer empty. He even picked my name.”

My mouth falls open. “That could have ended so badly.”

He laughs, and the sound has my gut twisted in knots. What the fuck? This salty air has me going crazy.

“I thought of Barnacle first. We could have called him Barney for short,” Shore says, making himself known. “But a rip is powerful. It can pull swimmers out beyond the surf. I could see how strong he was, and I knew it was his name.”

A fucking tear leaks from my eye, and I quickly wipe it away. “That is beautiful, Shore. You are an amazing friend.”

“Don’t tell him that. His ego is already massive. If it gets any bigger, he won’t be able to fit through doorways,” Kasen says, appearing out of nowhere.

Shore leans his head back and smiles widely at Kasen. “You’re just jealous that my ego is as big as my cock. If you want me, just tell me. We all know there is enough of me to go around.”

Kasen flips him off. “I’m good, thanks. Your junk doesn’t appeal to me at all. I like women.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on,” Shore says, and Rip grunts in agreement.

My sketch pad is closed, and he slides it across to me. I place it in my tote bag and stand from my chair.

“It was nice to see you again, boys.”

“I’m not a boy. I’m all man.”

Kasen slaps Shore on the back of the head, and Rip shakes his.

I laugh and say goodbye again. This little town is rubbing off on me, and I run Rip’s words through my head—that the only hand that can write my story is my own.

I now need to decide what I want. Each choice has consequences that make my stomach churn.

But for now, I head toward the art supply store I saw on one of my walks.

I need to get some paint and canvases. At the very least, I will have them as reminders.