Grams gives him the stink eye, but Beau is unfazed by it. I wonder if anything can pierce that good-natured armor.
“I’ll be at the front desk, Gemma,” Beau tells me. “No rush.”
My mouth opens wordlessly because I have no clue why’s he’s offered up this unnecessary information—until I realize Ihave no way home because he drove me here. By then, though, he’s already walking away.
“Well?” Grams says, folding her arms over her stomach and shifting toward me.
I pull in a big breath and let it out slowly. “It’s not good. Tomorrow, we might be packing up everything you just unpacked.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“There are other retirement homes, Grams.”
She shakes her head vehemently. “I’m not leaving Sunset Harbor.”
“Then you can’t lead hunger strikes full of people with diabetes and heart disease. Even then, you might not be able to stay. Tristan has to talk to his dad about their legal liabilities. They’re worried Mr. Crane’s family could sue.”
Grams snorts. “Clarence was fine. He wanted an out from the strike, so he pretended to feel faint.”
“And was his blood sugar monitor also pretending?”
Grams has no response for that.
“You really want to be here?” I ask.
“I do. All my friends are here.”
“And your enemies.”
“Gotta keep ’em close.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “You’d better be on your best behavior, then. And you’ll have to say sorry to Tristan—and Clarence, of course. I’ll do what I can, but even then, there’s no guarantee you’ll be sleeping here tomorrow night.”
Grams’s gaze studies mine for a few seconds, then she plants a quick kiss on my cheek. “Poor Gigi. Has to clean up her grandma’s houseandher messes. I’ll try to behave myself.”
That’s as good as I’ll get from her. I know she means it too, but Grams’s good intentions aren’t always as strong as her temper.
I get up, and she stops me with a hand on my arm. “Is that pig driving you home?”
“Your cart wouldn’t start, so I didn’t have much of a choice.”
Her lips press together. “Don’t you let that boy-in-blue pull the wool over your eyes. A wolf in sheep’s clothing—that’s what he is.”
“Two references to wool, back to back,” I say, impressed. I put my hand over hers and smile. “Don’t worry about it, Grams. I’m safe.”
She nods, and I kiss her hairspray-stiffened roller curls, then head to the lobby. There’s a group of residents huddled around Xena, petting and praising her, while Beau looks on with folded arms and an appreciative expression.
He takes the hat in his hand, leans over, and puts it at a jaunty angle over the dog’s head. The crowd loses their minds.
And, honestly, it’s about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
The dog, not Beau.
My gaze flicks up to him. To be fair, he’s not so bad either. That smile is truly killer. He could probably hand out speeding tickets like candy, and as long as he’s smiling, people would thank him.
Wolf in sheep’s clothing,Gemma.
I head over to him, and he apologizes to the crowd about having to break up the Xena admiration party.
