I’m torn between trying to increase his discomfort by prodding her for more and shutting her down because I don’t need anyone’s praise for Beau in my head.
Part of me wants to stick around after patrol to see what else happens, but the more rational side of my brain realizes I should get some other things done too. Like hanging out with Grams or compiling information about utility costs for interested buyers. As in, the reasons I came to Sunset Harbor in the first place.
Beau drops me off at home, but when he asks if I’d like to come out for the next day’s patrol at seven thirty a.m., my answer is yes.
The next morning,I’m getting ready when I hear a mutedplinkon my window. Trying not to smile, I head over and open it. “It’s only 7:26, Officer.”
He smiles up at me, looking like he inhaled sunshine for breakfast. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t still asleep. Work starts at seven thirty, sharp.”
“Aye aye, captain.”
I make sure to step out of the front door when I’ve only got three seconds to spare before it turns 7:31.
The first task of morning patrol is monitoring traffic in frontof the small preschool and kindergarten near the town square. I stay on the side of the road, while Beau ensures the kids and their accompanying parents are practicing safe street-crossing behavior.
I smile as he shows Violet from the pet adoption booth a yellow flag attached to a wood stick. He takes it in hand and marches across the street, bringing his knees almost up to his chest with each step. She’s delighted, then gives it a try herself.
After that, we head into town for Beau to take care of parking enforcement. He’s such a softie, though, that when we stumble upon the only two carts improperly parked, he asks me to run into the general store and warn the owners while he writes the tickets.
When I emerge with them behind me, Beau glances up from his ticket pad and shakes out his pen. “Dang pen won’t work. I’ll have to run inside and buy a new one so I can finish these tickets.” He winks at them, and they scramble to their carts.
He checks his watch as we get settled back in the cop cart. “I’ve got to head to pick up Jane soon.”
“That’s nice of you to do,” I say significantly.
He shrugs. “She’s a good friend. Plus, something tells me she’ll bereallyinterestingcoming off the anesthesia.” Just as we’re pulling into the city hall parking lot, his phone rings. He pulls into a nonexistent spot and hurries to answer.
“Officer Palmer here, go ahead,” he says.
There’s a pause, punctuated bymmhmms. “10-4,” he finally says. “I’ll head there right away.” He hangs up, then pulls the cart next to mine. “I’ve got to go to the resort again.”
“Oh my gosh, they went back?” I’m picturing that stretch golf cart, full of hungover college boys, parked haphazardly in the resort lot.
“No. At least I don’tthinkit’s them. One of the resort guests is worried she’s got a Peeping Tom. But we’ve already done a lot today. You don’t have to come.”
“Are you kidding? This is exactly the sort of thing we need to capture.”
He smiles like he’s happy I’m sticking around. “Then let’s get a move on.” He texts a guy named Walker to pick up Jane from her appointment while we head toward the Belacourt Resort.
“Privacy is really important to this guest,” Beau says, “so make sure none of the photos or videos you take have any identifying information in them, okay?”
“Of course,” I say, my curiosity sparked. “I’ll make sure not to get any photos of him. Or her.” I steal a sidelong glance at him, but he’s already looking at me, a knowing smile on his lips.
“What?” I ask innocently.
“To answer your not-so-subtle fishing?—”
“I wasnotfishing,” I protest. “Just…trawling. But you were saying…?”
He shoots me an amused look. “It’s Presley James. Can you keep that to yourself?”
I scoff. “Says the man who lives on an island full of gossips. Of course I can. I’m from LA, Beau. Celebrities are a dime a dozen.” It’s a bit of an exaggeration, especially because Presley James is a lot more exciting than some of the celebs I’ve seen. She’s an A-list movie star.
“You’refromSunset Harbor, GG,” Beau says. “Whether you like it or not. You just took a detour to LA.”
“It can’t be both detouranddestination.”
“You really prefer LA to this?” He gestures toward the open coast to our left. The water is Kool-Aid blue with white sand and swaying palm trees. It looks paradisiacal, there’s no doubt about it. The people here are the problem.
