“What’re you doing?” I hiss, my heart going berserk.
“I didn’t get my full dance,” he explains, interlocking his fingers with mine.
“And you thought you’d come claim the rest of it here by the trash can? Is that some kind of subliminal message for me?”
He laughs and gets closer. “If next to a trash can is where you’ll agree to dance with me, next to a trash can is where I’ll dance with you.”
How does this man make a woman swoon while repeating the word “trash can” so many times? That’s got to contravene some universal seduction code.
“Did Grams see you?”
“I have no idea,” he says, playing with the frill on the neckline of my shirt. His fingers graze my collarbone, sending chills across my skin.
“And that doesn’t worry you at all?”
“Not even a little.”
“Beau,” I reason as he gets near enough to brush my nose with his, “you’re a Palmer. I’m a Sawyer. Your entire island—the one you’re crazy about—has expectations about how we should interact.”
“Gemma,” he says, matching my tone, “I couldn’t care less what people think or feel about the Sawyers and Palmers. I don’t adopt other people’s issues—not even people I love as much as my family. What I care about right now is whatyouthink and feel. So…”
His lips are so close I can almost feel them on mine. It’s killing me. My mind is a complete blank, apart from its sole current goal: get those lips on mine.
“Do you still hate me?” he whispers against my lips.
I clench my eyes shut more tightly, trying to focus on his question. “Yeees?” I eke out. I may as well have screamedno.
“Gigi!”
I startle at the sound of Grams’s voice calling to me from nearby. In my hurry to put distance between Beau and me, I stumble right into the garbage can. My upper body pitches forward, but Beau’s hand on my arm pulls me back, preventingme from face-planting straight into its nearly empty depths as Grams appears a dozen feet away.
“What’re you doing, Gigi?” Grams barks.
“So,” I rush to say, motioning to the garbage in a way that forces Beau’s hand to let go of my arm, “this is the other can I was talking about, Officer. As you can see, it’s almost completely empty.”
Beau smiles in amusement. “Right. Thanks for showing it to me personally, Miss Sawyer. I never would’ve found it otherwise.”
I give a curt nod and turn to Grams. “Do you need me?”
“I’m tired,” she says in an ornery voice. “I want to go home.”
“But you’ll miss the fireworks,” I protest.And so will I.
Beau folds his arms across his chest, then uses his concealed hand to pinch my side.
I jump slightly, then press my lips together and ignore him, leaning my body away.
“I just lit off my own fireworks,” Grams says.
My eyes widen, flitting to Beau. “Okay,” I say, wanting to ask what she means but also trying to navigate her foul mood. “I might have to come back to help out after I take you, though.”
“You’ve done plenty today,” Beau says.
I shoot him a hard stare, and understanding dawns in his eyes.
“Though,” he says more loudly, “I could really use an extra pair of eyes during the fireworks show.”
I sigh like it’s a big ask. “Fine. I’ll try to swing by after I take Grams. For Jane’s sake.”
