The city was buzzing that day, warm sunlight bouncing off glass storefronts, the sidewalks full of chatter and traffic. You had Sarah, Kiara, JJ, and John B with you—laughing, joking, moving in and out of boutiques. Their arms were light with maybe one or two bags, while yours stacked up fast.

A new designer bag caught your eye. Then heels. Then a makeup set you had been wanting forever. Every time, you pulled out your own card, handing it over without hesitation. The pogues didn’t say much, though you caught the quick glances—JJ whistling low, Kiara shaking her head with a smirk, Sarah nudging John B when you walked out with yet another bag. They weren’t judging, not exactly. Just… noticing.

By the time the group decided to hit the beach, the trunk of the car was filled with your things. The sun was lower now, the golden hour stretching across the sand. You kicked off your shoes, laughing when JJ splashed you with water, and Sarah pulled Kiara into a photo.

But then your smile dropped.

He was there.

Rafe Cameron. Leaning against his Jeep, arms crossed, pale blue eyes locked directly on you.

Your chest tightened as he pushed off the car and walked toward you. Even from a distance, you could see the shift in his expression—tight jaw, storm brewing behind his face.

“You bought all that?” Rafe’s voice was sharp, not even bothering with a greeting. His hand gestured toward the pile of bags you’d carried from the car. “With your money?”