I shrug. “Suit yourself.” If he gives up so easily on his dream, it must only be a half dream.
“Are you not thirsty?” He nods at the drink in my hand. “That’s all for you.”
“Thanks,” I say, relieved I don’t have to make a fool of myself when I inevitably dribble soda down my chin. I put the bottle to my lips and drink, but inside I’m wondering whether I’m giving soda commercial vibes or toddler with her first sippy cup.
A loud ringing sounds somewhere near, and my gaze darts around, trying to locate it. Is there someone else here? I half expect to see Grams looking at us through binoculars from the trees.
Beau hurries to his feet. “That’s my work phone,” he explains, rummaging through his backpack. He gets up and answers, walking away so I can’t hear the conversation.
He hangs up less than a minute later and grimaces at me.
“Someone vandalize a sandcastle?” I reach for the soda cap and screw it on.
“Golf cart broken down in the road.” He comes to help me fold up the towel. “I’m really sorry.” He sets the towel in the backpack.
I feign an expression of disappointment as we head toward the boat, traipsing through the bath-temperature water. “You can imagine how gutted I am to have my date with the island cut short. Do you need help pushing back off?”
“I just need you to get in and take the anchor.” He tosses the backpack into the boat. “I’ll handle the rest.”
I have no doubt he will. I obediently climb into the boat, and he waits until I’m safely in to start rocking and pushing it into deeper waters. It gradually dislodges, and he makes his way to the back.
A minute later, I’ve got the anchor, and he climbs back in.
“We can finish this island tour another day,” he says a bit breathlessly.
I snort as I put the anchor into the locker.
“We agreed on four hours,” he says, standing in front of the wheel. “We’ve done two and a half, but I’ll round up to three because I’m generous.”
“Right, but?—”
“Are you a woman of your word, Gemma?”
I press my lips together and take the seat near Beau. Not because I want to be near him but because it’d be weird for me to sit as far away from him as possible. “You really think you’ll get another grain of sand on that scale with one more hour?”
“Possibly two,” he says, navigating the boat out of the little bay.
We get to deeper waters and pick up speed, leaving the pretty beach behind. The shadows cast by what’s left of the sun are long, making the island on our right look almost like a silhouette.
Like Beau said, it’s beautiful. But beauty’s not enough.
This island hurt my family. Badly. It took me almost three years to stop asking my parents when we’d be coming back.
“You’re not going to convince me to love Sunset Harbor,Beau. It’s not like this is a first impression you’re trying to change. Too much has happened.Allmy memories here are tainted. Four hours and a few grains of sand in the balance isn’t going to fix that. Why not use that hour and a half of your life to figure out how to convince the city council to make you a full-time employee?”
The frown returns to his brow at my mention of the topic, and I realize something right then: I don’t like seeing a sad Beau Palmer. It just feels…wrong. Like the world is off-kilter.
“You should give it another shot.”
He scrunches his nose. “I don’t know about that.”
“Come on. I can give you some tips. Trade secrets.” I wag my brows.
He chuckles as we reach the canal. “You’d do that?”
I shrug, even though I, too, am a bit confused by my offer. “Sure.”
He guides the boat to the dock, and I help by pushing out the fenders and getting the rope ready. I climb out—carefully, to ensure I require no saving this time—and Beau follows.
