“What about that job of yours?” Grams asks as we make our way slowly toward the cafeteria.
I wave away my career like an annoying mosquito rather than the shrine to my hard work it is. “They’ll be fine. I’ve been in touch with them this whole time to help here and there. Plus, they owe me like fifty vacation days at this point.”
Grams looks at Beau, who’s walking next to her andwatching the unsteady rolling of the walker wheels on the grass with a slight frown. I have no doubt that, if anything went wrong and Grams started to fall, he’d be right there to stabilize her.
“Shoo, fly!” Grams says, gesturing him off. “My granddaughter doesn’t need a police escort. She can hold her own.”
“I absolutely believe that,” Beau replies as we stop at the door. He opens it to let through the incoming seniors, greeting each one by name, followed by little jokes and comments specific to each person.
It’s impressive, actually. And a little weird. Beau Palmer has the muscles of a cop you wouldn’t want responding to your bank robbery, but his actual demeanor is the farthest thing from intimidating I can imagine. I’m genuinely curious if his approach to a bank heist would be less “lower your weapons” and more “have you heard the joke about the frog and the spatula?”
An old man I vaguely recognize but can’t put a name to stops and looks at me, then Beau, judgment in his eyes. “Never thought I’d see the day Virginia Sawyer would allow her own blood to go steady with a Palmer.”
My jaw slips open, and I look to Beau to quash this ridiculousness, but all he says is, “How are you, Harold?”
Ah. Harold Shuman. He’s always been a Palmerite.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Grams says in disgust.
“Seems anytime I see one of you, I see the other,” Harold says to Beau and me. “And I’m not the only one to notice. Word is you were seen canoodling together around town last night. I’d say the evidence is pretty clear.”
Feeling my cheeks go red from annoyance and embarrassment, I take drastic measures. “I’m dating someone.”
All three gazes whip to me, and I do my best to look like a person who has a boyfriend instead of one who got ghosted during her most recent attempt at dating. It’s not consideredmaking a false statement to a police officer if the statement wasn’t directed toward him, right? He was just present at the time of the crime. And, really, howdoyou define dating? If it’s about gauging the suitability of someone as a romantic partner, then why wouldn’t watchingOutlanderon repeat count?
“Hmph,” Harold scoffs, but after another look at Beau, who’s still all pleasant smiles and no attempt at all to come to my aid, he heads through the door.
“Pot-stirrer,” Grams mutters in the most amazing pot-calling-kettle-black moment of the century.
“Forget him,” I say. “Let’s get you some lunch.” My phone starts buzzing in my pocket, and I pull it out. Meredith is calling. She’s my direct superior—and the person I need to clear more time off with.
“I can take her the rest of the way,” Beau offers.
“Try it and see what happens,” Grams threatens, pulling her walker out of his reach. “I don’t need either of you babying me.”
Beau and I catch eyes, and I give a little nod to let him know she can go on her own. I’m sure this carpet is made with walkers and wheelchairs in mind. She’ll be fine.
“I’ll be right there, Grams.”
She nods, shoots Beau a suspicious glance, then starts toward the cafeteria as the buzzing of my phone stops and turns into a missed call notification.
That’s okay. I could use a minute to gather my thoughts. It’s not like I made it a secret at the office just how much I was dreading this trip. And now I’ll be asking to extend it.
Beau watches me, a curious look in his eyes.
“So much for Protect and Serve,” I say. “You couldn’t give me a little help back there with Harold, Officer?”
His brows go up. “Oh, did youwanthelp? Something tells me you’re not the Be Protected and Be Served type. Besides, I knew you could handle him. And you did.”
He’s referring to my fake boyfriend, and I avoid his eyes, myguilty conscience persuaded he can see right through me and read the big ol’TOTALLY AND UTTERLY SINGLEsign hovering over my head.
“You ever consider that the city council doesn’t want to hire you because the detective work on this island is already being done by everyone else?”
He laughs, and we both turn our heads as Xena charges toward us, apparently just released from Tristan’s office.
“Hey, girl,” Beau greets her.
But it’s me she comes to.
