Page 115 of Banter & Blushes

“Uh-huh.” Sandy cleared Caroline’s cup. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to get out of this place occasionally. Change out of those baggy sweats and put on an actual pair of shoes for a change.”

“Don’t go getting any ideas, Sandy. I’m a lost cause, remember?” Beck swirled the coffee in his cup and took another sip. “Besides, the only shoes I own are sneakers and a pair of flip-flops. Everything else I donated when I left Washington.”

“Apart from your sweats?”

“Apart from my sweats.”

Sandy wiped the counter with a purposeful swipe, her eyes sharp on Beck. “Maybe you should take a lesson from your girl Caroline there.”

Beck’s eyebrows cocked upward with skepticism. “My girl?”

“Setting down roots hurt no one. You’ve been here for two years, Beck. It’s about time you think about a more permanent arrangement.”

Beck’s lips twisted with amusement. “Like a retirement plan?”

Sandy shook her head with a chuckle. “No, that’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it. You should settle down.”

Beck stiffened, as if the words had found a sore spot. “I settled down plenty. Just me, my dog, and the ocean now.”

“If you say so,” Sandy replied with gentle doubt. “But you’re still not fooling me, Beck. You can try to hide all you want.”

“I will not end up as fodder for Gigi or Mabel’s parlor games.” He ran a hand through his sand-dusted hair, the casual gesture hiding an edge of irritation. “I like my arrangements for how they are. I’m not going back to my old life.”

“Never thought you would.” She smirked, refilling another cup at the counter. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll even surprise yourself. Look what happened to Caro.”

Ignoring Sandy, Beck pulled a few bills from his pocket and left them on the table. “I’ll get out of your hair. Let you warn the regulars it’s safe to come back.”

Sandy watched him leave, shaking her head again with fond exasperation. “Playing the hermit won’t last forever, Carter Beckett.”

He held the door open, shooting her a mock salute as he stepped outside, the spring air sharp with salt and possibility as he meandered down the street, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He strolled the long way home, following the path of the evening breeze, knowing full well conspiracies and campaign parties had a way of sneaking up and catching him, even when they didn’t have tuba accompaniment.

CHAPTER 3

CAROLINE

“You’re too tense, Caroline,” Gigi said, nudging a syrup bottle toward her with the authority coming from having raised four kids and half the town. “You need more waffles and fewer worry lines.”

Caroline didn’t look up from her notes.

She tapped her pen once.Twice.

Color-coded lines and budget estimates danced across the pages like a dream she was still trying to drag into reality.

“I don’t need waffles,” she said. “I need tourists. Which means I need a functioning website, updated signage, and at least one Instagram-able photo op not involving Max’s hand-painted pelican.”

“Max’s pelican has character,” Mabel said, unapologetically stabbing her sausage.

“It has a lazy eye,” Caroline muttered.

“Details.”

“You’ve only been mayor for a week. I knew you’d be a shoo-in to take your father’s place.” Gigi scooched the sticky bottle across the table again.

Caroline sighed and looked up from her notebook. Across from her, Gigi and Mabel sat in matching sun visors and satisfied smirks, like two ladies who’d just watched a Hallmark movie and decided they could do it better.And messier.

Stabbing at a waffle square, Caroline held it up with her fork and waved it infront of Bluebell Bay’s matriarchs. “Did you know the Greeks invented the waffle? They were originally flat.”

“Those are called pancakes, my dear.” Gigi adjusted her sun hat before taking a bite of her breakfast.

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