Sheesh.
He doesn’t say it, but I could swear there’s an implicit message in his words: this is what your investor will bring more of to our island.
“I was actually coming to find Jane to see if I can help with anything,” I say, trying to send my own message: you’re wrong in your assumption that I’m looking for Beau. Kind of.
“Ah,” he says. “Very nice of you. I’m not actually sure where Jane is”—he looks around with a frown—“but I think we’re in the homestretch now, so you should go enjoy the fireworks.”
I thank him and find a seat in the back of everyone on the grass of the softball field. The weather is perfect. Warm with a slight breeze. It smells like summer—a mixture of beach, grass, and fireworks. And as I look around at the families and couples watching the show together, I can’t help wishing Beau was next to me.
It’s kind of scary how quickly my heart is progressing when it comes to him. It’s running a hundred-meter dash while my brain is still stretching and warming up. It’s hoping to finish off that kiss with Beau, while my brain is pulling back on the reins. It wants me to stick around after the show in case I see Beau, while my brain tells me to go home and have a think about things.
I strike a balance when the fireworks end, helping pick uptrash for ten minutes, then heading out when there’s no sign of him. When I plug in the cart in Grams’s driveway, the sound of an engine approaching reaches my ears.
“Gemma,” Beau calls.
I take in a breath, then turn and smile at him. “Hey! I hear you’ve been handling issues with our party pals.”
He blows out a breath as he heads my way. “They tipped over a bottle rocket, and it grazed the leg of one of the kids playing nearby.”
“Jeez,” I gasp, horrified. “Is the kid okay?”
“Yeah. Just rattled, as you can imagine. Now I’ve got a boatload of paperwork to fill out. I thought I’d stop by here first and see if I could catch you.”
He acts like any catching is necessary when I stayed to clean up trash just in case I might see him. I mean, that’s not theonlyreason, but it was definitely a factor.
I lift my shoulders. “Caught me.”
He smiles. “I think I can do a bit better than that.” He grabs my hand, pulls it above my head, spins me around, then dips me like he did Marge.
I look up at him, my back resting on his thigh and my heart thudding. I want him to kiss me, but I also don’t want him to. I need to give my head some time to catch up, and Beau’s kisses send my head straight to la-la land.
“Hold on,” I say, using all my abdominal strength to raise myself.
He helps me up. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I rub my lips together. “I just feel like…things are moving kind of fast.”
“I can dip you more slowly this time.”
I smile in spite of myself. “I’m serious, Beau.”
His expression grows more sober, and he nods. “Okay, let’s talk.”
I shrug. “There’s half a century of enmity between our families.”
“Half a century too much, don’t you think? Or are you suggesting we keep the hatred alive purely out of tradition?”
“No, I’m just…” I sigh with frustration at my inability to say what I need to say. It’s no surprise, though, given how jumbled my thoughts are. “I just need to catch my breath, I guess. A little space.”
He nods and takes a step back. “Okay. I understand.”
Now that I’ve set the boundary, I’m having buyer’s remorse. It’s my heart trying to pound my head into submission.
We stand there for a second in silence.
“I’m headed to bed. See you tomorrow?”
He smiles—almost like he’s relieved. “Sure thing, jelly bean.”
