“I lost my job,” I say, hoping he connects the dots.
“You mean your CEO lost everyone’s jobs on their behalves.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s what I mean.” Tristan must have texted him. Do they text other things about me?
“Ironic,” Beau says, handing me a peach from the bag next to him.
“What is?”
“A PR firm going under because of bad publicity.”
I take a bite, and sugary peach juice dribbles down my chin. “Some choices are beyond fixing.”
He takes a bite from his peach and manages to keep from leaking peach juice all over like I did, but his lips glisten, and my mind wanders down forbidden paths for a few seconds, wondering what kissing him would taste like right now with some peach added in.
I narrow my eyes. “You’re not embezzling money from Sunset Harbor, right? I need to know your deepest secrets if this campaign is going to be successful.”Like whether you’ve got someone in Miami.
He turns his peach like he’s trying to find the perfect spot to bite next. “I’m way too busy handing out favors to the Sunset Harbor Mafia to embezzle money. You never sent me the folder, by the way.” He takes another bite, and I turn my head away. Focusing on his mouth isn’t helping anyone.
“I didn’t realize it was urgent,” I say. “I planned to do it once I got home. I’ll send it today.”
“Or,” he says slowly, his voice that’s way too casual, “since you’re here, you could keep helping me.”
I shoot him an unamused look. But inside, I’m sayingyes.
“Did you know,” he says, “that your grandma filled most ofthe sugar canisters on the dining tables with salt last night because she thought the other team cheated at Charades?” He makes a sequence oftsksounds. “I had to put in a lot of hours last night to help the dust settle.” He takes another bite of his fruit, his eyes on me.
“A lot of hours,” I repeat.
“When you work part-time, half an hour is the equivalent of an eight-hour work day.”
I struggle against a smile. “Right. And how do you know it was Grams? Seems like an unfair assumption.”
Beau’s dimple appears. “Seems like the most reasonable assumption in the world, if you ask me. Especially because we have video footage.”
I bite my lip. I’d actually love to see that footage. If anyone can handle such devious doings while using a walker, it’s Grams.
“So, you’re saying I still owe you.”
He takes the last bite of his peach, leaving nothing but the pit. “I’m just trying to make sure it’s all fair and square.”
“Mmhmm.”
He tosses the pit into the canal. Within seconds, there are fish nibbling at whatever bits of fruit are left. We both watch the feeding frenzy. I have no idea how long I’ll be in Sunset Harbor. I don’t know much of anything about my life right now. It might be nice to have some work to do while I’m here. The boundary issue doesn’t qualify since it’ll be in the surveyor’s hands.
Beau turns to look at me. “I’m really sorry about your job, Gemma. It’s completely unfair, and you deserve so much better.”
I swallow, feeling suddenly emotional—more so than I have since Meredith broke the news.
“But I’m glad you’re still here, even if the situation isn’t ideal.”
The situation looks almosttooideal, if you ask me. It has beautiful brown eyes, the best smile I’ve ever seen, and issomehow sitting so much closer to me than when I first sat down.
It also may or may not have a lady friend in Miami.
And so what? I’d be an idiot to give my mind and heart free rein when it comes to Beau Palmer, Miss Miami notwithstanding. It may feel like I know him well, but I don’t. He doesn’t seem like the two-timing type, but my CEO also seemed like a stand-up guy, and look where that assumption got me.
I don’t want to burn any bridges, though, particularly any bridges that might harm Grams’s life at Seaside Oasis. I can keep it together for her, right? I can help Beau get the footage he wants for his presentation to the city council, and maybe it’ll become clearer in the meantime what type of person I’m really dealing with. So far, Beau has seemed pretty dang good. Too good.
