Page 92 of Summer Tease
I’m not my grandpa.Beau’s words at the ice cream shop come back to me, and it makes sense now why he said that. I sure hope it’s true. But he could be unlike his grandpa—not a cheating sleazeball, namely—while still being in Miami for a girl. It’s not like he owes me anything. We’re not together. I’ve made sure of that.
I move on to a picture of Beau with an old lady—his grandma, I assume. The next is one of Tristan mid-golf swing, and the next is Beau with Xena. I stare at that one for a couple of minutes, the sound of Xena crunching her food providing the background music.
“I know you like me,” I say to Picture Beau, “but howmuchdo you like me?” I can’t help feeling like, if I left back to LA tonight, Beau would get over whatever’s been going on between us a lot more quickly than I would.
I can’t believe I’m saying this to a picture frame while Beaucould easily be on a date with another woman right now. I’ve reached hitherto unexplored levels of patheticness.
I say goodnight to Xena, then head to the door and home.
The next morning,I take Xena on her walk, then go hang out with Grams at Seaside Oasis. But she’s intently focused on rereading her favorite Sunny Palmer book,Secret Crush, because later on is her precious book club where they’ll be discussing it. I can’t help thinking about the secret crush I’m keeping from her, and I find myself driving back home not long after I arrive.
The day feels so incredibly long, and every time my phone pings, I check it hoping to hear from Beau. But I don’t. I consider textinghimto give him an unsolicited update on Xena until I realize something: I still don’t have his number. He’s never used mine.
That can’t be a good sign.
I take out Xena for a second walk, then make a game-time decision and bring her and her food dish to my house. It’ll feel less lonely. She keeps me company as I browse more job listings and watch more Turkish TV. After we’re back from her evening walk and have both eaten, I turn on the TV again and invite Xena onto my bed. She curls up next to me, and I smile.
The bass line from the neighbor’s house comes through the open window. Even after closing it, I have to turn up the volume on the TV to drown it out.
When I wake in the morning, Xena’s curled up by my feet, but she’s awake. I reach for my phone, but there are no messages. The muffled rumble of a passing golf cart reaches us, and Xena’s head comes up.
“It’s not him,” I say, empathizing with her more than I care to admit. “Tomorrow, girl.”
I feel a rush of nerves at the thought of his return. I have no idea what to expect from it or how to act. My brain and heart have successfully confused me even more than when I sat down in what I thought was my Principles of Accounting class, only to discover I mistook the building and was in Advanced Puppetry.
I get so stir crazy after a few hours at home that I end up walking Xena into town to grab a couple things at the general store. The owners know Xena well and have no problem with her joining me inside. I take my time browsing the aisles, and I’m inspecting a bag of jet-puffed marshmallows when I get bumped.
“Sorry,” I instinctively say as I move aside.
It’s Marlyss Gapmeyer, the woman who owns the Beach Break Bar & Grill. She smiles at me, and it seems genuine enough, even though she falls on the Palmer side of the line.
Her gaze moves to Xena, and her brows go up slightly.
“Officer Palmer is out of town,” I explain. “Just doing my neighborly duty.”
“Ah,” she says. “Miami?”
I suppress a sigh. Does everyone know about this chick? “Yep. Quick trip.”
“Always has to get his Miami fix,” she says, reaching for some powdered sugar. “I understand you’ve got a buyer lined up for your grandma’s house.”
“Yeah,” I say, my guard instantly up. “Just have to get a couple of things squared away before we get the offer settled.”
She nods, pressing her lips together like she’s trying to keep from saying something. “Short-term leases are one of the items on the August agenda for the city council meeting.”
“Ah,” I say. “How would that affect existing rentals?”
“Oh, they’d be grandfathered in if anything passes.” She puts two bags of chocolate chips in her cart.
“Well, thanks for the heads-up,” I say.
She smiles, and I pull Xena away to look at a bag of something else I have no intention of buying.
Of course Sunset Harbor is trying to nix short-term rentals. What else would I expect as a Sawyer trying to get something done on this island? If they pass a ban before we get the house sold, it could ruin everything, since Mr. Wallace’s whole plan is to use the house as a vacation rental.
This month’s city council meeting is set for the 12th—six days away. I know that because it’s when Beau’s set to present to them. If we can get the property line issues resolved within the next few days, we should have a signed contract by mid-month. We’ll close within a couple weeks of that, well before the August meeting Marlyss mentioned, which means we’d be grandfathered in.
I take Xena back to the beach once we’ve dropped the groceries at home, and my eyes veer again and again to the water Beau pulled me into. I can still taste the saltwater, feel the press of his fingertips into my thighs, and see the way he looked up at me, inviting me to kiss him.
