We head for the doors, and I step out into the stifling midday heat, the dog on my heels. The humidity hits like a brick wall, making my skin tacky.
“Gosh, I hate this island,” I say as we reach the golf cart parked in front of the doors.
“Why?” Beau asks as we take our seats and the dog makes the jump up—with effort.
I shoot Beau an unamused look.
“I’m serious,” he says. “Why do you hate it?”
“I don’t particularly want to be arrested for slander, but thanks for asking.”
“You can’t get arrested for slander. It’s a civil offense, not a criminal one. And the island would have to press charges.”
“Wouldn’t put that past it,” I mutter, stroking Xena’s fluffy fur.
He chuckles as the cart gets going. “You have some feelings on the topic, I take it.”
“Gee, you don’t miss much, do you?”
“Not much, no. If you don’t want to discuss it right now, though, we can change the subject.”
It’s not that I don’t want to discuss it. It’s that I don’t understand why itneedsto be discussed. Does he really not understand why I dislike Sunset Harbor? It’s like Satan not understanding why everyone dislikes hell.
A very smiley, attractive Satan, which is the most dangerous Satan of all.
“Did you manage to talk your grandma down?” he asks.
“For now, I think.”
“That’s good. She’s torturing herself needlessly trying to get alcohol reintroduced at Seaside. It’s a losing battle.”
I clench my jaw. The Palmers think any battle against them is a losing one.
“Maybe you don’t know my grandma well enough,” I shoot back.
“Trust me. I know your grandma.”
My need to argue the point gets commandeered by my curiosity. “What did she get arrested for?”
He shoots me a quick glance. “You really want me to tell you?”
“I mean, it’s public record, right? You might as well save me the trouble.”
His grin grows. “I don’t know. Her mugshot is pretty good.”
“I’ll look it up. But just tell me.”
He hesitates for a second, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Public indecency.”
My eyes balloon.
“She was swimming topless at the beach,” he explains. “Someone told her to put her top back on, but she wouldn’t, so…”
My face is bright red, and I cover it with my hands because Beau—and others, apparently—have seen Grams topless. A laugh bursts through my hands, and I lower them. “That has Grams written all over it.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” He steals a smiling glance at me, like we’re sharing a joke.
Grams would be highly disappointed. But then, maybe she shouldn’t have gone topless at the beach.
