Page 82 of Summer Tease
We trudge back toward the beach, and I push my straightened hand along the surface of the water to send a wall of it toward him. See? I can be breezy about things. This is all just good fun. Nothing Grams would disapprove of. Or at least not too much.
When we make it to shore, Beau unbuttons his uniform shirt. “This thing weighs a metric ton when it’s wet.” He peels it off, and my gaze darts to the way his forearm muscles feather as he wrings it out. I’m jealous, once again, that he can take off items of clothing and squeeze the water out. If I did that, I’d end up with a ticket for public indecency, just like Grams.
He grabs the bottom of his tank and bunches it up, then squeezes out the water, and my eyes fix on the spot a few inches left of his bellybutton. It’s that same spot I noticed the day he came home from surfing.
He notes my focus, and I feel the need to explain. “Is that a birthmark?”
He tugs his tank down to cover it. “Just a scar. You wanna head home to dry off?”
He’s definitely changing the subject. It hurts a little—and makes me glad we’ve kept things more platonic since the kiss the night of the citizen’s arrest. If he won’t talk about a simple scar with me, it’s a lot more believable he’d be hiding other things. Like Miss Miami.
“I think I have some ice cream in my freezer,” he says. “I owe you half a scoop.”
“Anda cone. Don’t forget that. It’s the best part.”
He chuckles and scours the sand until he finds our phones. “Guess that means we’re stopping at the store.”
Beau givesme the lowdown on his schedule for the next day’s Fourth of July activity while we eat our second round of ice cream and wait for our clothes to finish in the dryer. I probably could shadow him for the Fourth and come away with plenty of material for our little campaign.
Oh well.
The day starts bright and early with a pancake breakfast at the town square. I come prepared to eat and take pictures of Beau as he helps cook the eggs and sausage. Jane Hayes is trying to keep the pancakes coming as quickly as people are eating them, and it feels morally wrong to stand on the sidelines. I take some video and snap a few shots, then go help.
People are really pleasant, apart from a couple of people who’ve apparently heard our prospective buyer is an investor and feel the need to let me know their opinion on the matter. Partway through when I go to grab more pancake mix at the end of the table, I find myself facing Beau’s parents: Mark and Joy Palmer. My heart shoots into my throat as Jane quickly refreshes their memories on who I am.
“Hi, Gemma,” Joy says kindly. “How’s your family?”
“They’re doing well, thank you,” I say, thrown off by her politeness. I don’t know what I expected—frostiness, maybe?
Mark is just as pleasant, which is even more unexpected given the meetings I know he’s had about Grams with Tristan.
Either they’re really good at hiding their true feelings aboutus Sawyers, or they’ve moved past things. I’m not sure how to feel about either of those options.
Once things start to die down, I leave early with Beau, who has to block off the roads in preparation for the parade, which will end at the beach. Much to his chagrin, he’s charged with driving his golf cart as part of the parade, so I try to find a place to watch along the road once it gets underway.
The Seaside Oasis crew, including Grams, is here somewhere, but she’s not answering her phone, and the parade is already going.
Cat Keene motions me over to where she and a few others are seated. I recognize Ivy from the café and the girl who got hauled off from the adoption booth over Phoenix Park’s shoulder—I’ve since discovered her grandma is Lu Blakely from Seaside Oasis. There’s another person chatting with Ivy, and it takes me a second to recognize her. It’s Bridget Hall, the girl everyone at school wanted to be when I was living here.
I accept Cat’s invitation, grateful but nervous. I might’ve gone to school with these people, but that was a lifetime ago, and I’m not a Sunset Harbor girl anymore. They’re nothing but nice, though, making room for me to sit right smack dab in the middle.
“Hey,” Cat says. “How’ve you been?” The concern in her expression tells me she’s wondering how I’m holding up after the whole Insight fiasco since we texted about it a week ago.
“Better than expected,” I say. “Just trying to figure out my life, you know.”
“Sounds super simple.”
“Oh, totally,” I say.
“Does this mean there’s a chance you’ll stay in Sunset Harbor?”
“Ha! Good one. Unless Keene B&B has an opening for a high-salary PR person? That might get me to consider it.”
“Hey,” says the girl on the other side of me. She’s the onefrom the adoption fair. “It’s Gemma, right? My…friend is close with Beau, so I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Heat seeps into my cheeks, and I want to pry into what exactly she’d heard, but it seems like the wrong move. Besides, I’m intrigued by that pause beforefriend.
“Your friend Phoenix?” I ask. “I saw him carry you off at the adoption fair a couple weeks ago.”
