But you’re half naked.“No, that’s okay. I can…” I trail off because, what exactly can I do? At best, I’ll scrape Grams’s nice hardwood floors. At worst, I’ll have to call 911 because I’ve broken my back.
Beau is offering hisverycapable arms and back to spare me those scenarios, and honestly, that’s as it should be. He and his family have a lot of reparations to make.
He smiles when I don’t finish my sentence. “Let me help.”
I grit my teeth. “Fine.” My gaze flits down to his body. “Go…get a shirt on. I’ll be inside.”
He salutes me, and I head back to Grams’s to work on making sure I know exactly what I want so it can be done as quickly as possible. After a couple minutes analyzing the living room, I’m second-guessing the placement I’d decided on for the couch and loveseat. I stand at the edge of the room, eyes closed, trying to visualize things and make the room into a Pinterest pin.
“What’re we looking at?”
I startle, whipping around at the sound of Beau’s voice so close behind me and bringing our faces within a foot of each other. He’s got his uniform on again, hands on his waist, and his eyes on me.
“Hey, you,” he says, the edge of his mouth tilting upward. It’s a very nice mouth.
“Sheesh, Beau,” I breathe out, my heart beating erratically as I pull to a safer distance from his lips. “Don’t they call that breaking and entering?”
“For it to be breaking and entering, there’s got to be intent to commit a crime. Are we stealing your grandma’s furniture? I do like that loveseat.”
“Good,” I say, “because you’ll be moving it over there.” I point to a spot across the room. It’s not where I have it going onmy trusty list, but my vision has suddenly morphed, requiring Beau to move everything the farthest distance possible. Penance and all that.
He rubs his hands together like this is a real treat for him as he goes to one end of the loveseat. “So, you’re staying on the island.”
“For an extra week.” I take my position on the other end of the loveseat. I probably should have realized I’m also punishing myself by forcing him to move things farther than planned. “One, two, three.” We lift, and it feels like a different couch with him holding up one end. It’s so manageable.
My gaze flits to his arms and the muscles in his forearms flexing as he adjusts his grip and leads the way to the other side of the room. Why does he have to be so helpfulandso capable?
“Right here?” he asks.
“A little farther. Just the front legs on the rug.”
His phone starts ringing as we lower the loveseat and stand up straight. His hand goes straight to a Velcro pocket on his belt, and he pulls out his phone.
“Officer Palmer,” he says.
There’s a pause, and I tweak one side of the loveseat to make it straighter.
“I’ll be there right away.”
I glance at him, and my heart stutters at the sudden energy in his grim expression. “What’s wrong?” I’m picturing Grams on a stretcher.
“Fire at Seaside Oasis.”
“Oh my gosh,” I whisper as he hurries toward the door. “I’m coming with you.”
He doesn’t protest, and I follow him at a run to the golf cart, my heart thudding.
“Hold on tight,” he says, and I’ve barely grabbed the bar next to the seat when the cart roars backward out of the driveway, then forward. “Grab the light out of the back, would you?”
I reach behind me for the single light in the backseat. It’s got a suction cup on the bottom and a switch on the side. I flick the switch, and it starts flashing red and blue.
He puts his hand out for it, his eyes on the road.
“I’ve got it.” I grab the bar along the roof and stand up to stick the light on top of the cart.
“It’s got a little lever.” He’s got a hand out, his fingertips grazing my thigh like he’s ready to grab me if he sees me waver at all.
“Found it,” I say, pushing it down and feeling the suction tighten.
