“Did you leave a stupid tip at Bea’s burger bus today?”
“Would I do that?” I feel him smile against my hair, but it’s the giggle that fully gives him away.
“Where are you, you asshole?” Bea says. “Oh, hell. Sorry, Feather. It’s okay. I’ll quit yelling. But I’m still mad at your dad.”
I lift an arm and wave, making the hammock sway a little more. “Hey, Bea. How much did he leave?”
“Oh, good. Witnesses,” she replies.
“I attempted to talk her out of this,” Simon says, which has me perking my ears up too. I didn’t know he was back in town. This is awesome. “But I’m also rather curious to see her full temper play out.”
Bea’s face pops into view. She’s scowling, but Simon’s smiling widely behind her.
He gives us a thumbs-up behind her back.
“I saw that,” she says.
“I knew you would, darling,” he replies. “If not me, at least Daphne’s reaction to me. Though possibly she’s merely happy to see me?”
I grin back at him. “I’m definitely happy to see you. And I’d hug you, but I’ve tipped Oliver out of this hammock four times already, and I don’t want to land on our dog.”
“You don’t have to keep the money,” Oliver says to Bea. “You could redistribute it.”
“How thefuck—sorry, Feather. Sorry, girl.” She drops her voice lower as she squats out of view, likely getting a treat for the dog. “How am I supposed to redistributefifty thousand dollars?”
“Oh, that was a good one,” I tell Oliver. “How’d you get that much into her tip jar?”
“I blackmailed Archie into procuring a few thousand-dollar bills for me.”
“High-five.” I shift to hold up a hand.
He slaps it. “Fun is my favorite.”
Bea sighs.
Simon grins.
Feather crunches on a dog treat.
“That was completely unnecessary,” Bea tells Oliver. “You should’ve tipped the taco truck.”
“Oh, I did that too.”
She should know by now.
She really should.
Her exasperated sigh echoes across the backyard.
“Consider it practice for when Griff retires,” I tell her. “You know he’s going to find ways to pay for all kinds of crazy things for you once he starts spending some of his cash.”
“Griff has ten or fifteen years, andsomeonegot me aproducercredit on that screenplay I helped him finish, soI don’t need everyone giving me money.”
“She sounds like you,” Oliver murmurs.
“We’re two peas in a pod.”
He cracks up.
