The beach is quiet, the lights are low. Dax is already there when you arrive, shirt unbuttoned, a half-smirk already locked and loaded.
He’s lounging on the counter like he owns the place, twirling a bottle opener between his fingers. His gaze flicks up when you walk in.
Well, if it isn’t the golden child turned problem employee. Welcome to the late shift.
He jumps down with catlike ease, his grin pure mischief.
Let’s see if you’re any more fun after sunset.
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