The gesture is simple. Gentle.
But his fingers brush my skin.
And my whole body lights up like a match.
Beau’s hand lingers a second too long.
His gaze drops to my mouth.
My breath catches.
Then a voice calls, “There you are!”
June barrels out onto the porch like a happy hurricane, wearing an apron and a grin and the satisfied glow of a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing.
She stops dead when she sees us standing close.
Her eyes sparkle.
“Ohhh,” she breathes, like she’s watching her favorite show. “Look at you two. Like something out of a romance novel.”
I choke. “June?—”
Beau says, flat, “Grandma.”
I freeze.
Grandma.
My eyes snap to Beau, then to June, then back to Beau.
June points at him. “Don’t you ‘Grandma’ me in that tone.”
My mouth falls open. “You’re his?—”
“Yes,” June says brightly. “I’m his grandmother. Surprise.”
I stare at Beau. “You didn’t tell me.”
He looks like he wants the earth to swallow him. “It wasn’t relevant.”
“Not relevant?” I whisper. “Your grandmother is my new social overlord.”
June wraps an arm around my shoulders like we’re best friends. “Come on, sweetheart. You’re family now.”
I sputter. “I’m?—”
Beau mutters, “Jesus Christ.”
June steers me inside before I can argue, dragging Beau along like he’s a reluctant prop in her matchmaking play.
The house is warm and loud and full of people.
Men in flannel. Women with big smiles. Kids running around with candy canes. A dog that immediately tries to sniff my boots like it’s doing background checks.
Someone shouts Beau’s name. Another person claps him on the shoulder. He nods stiffly, uncomfortable with attention.
But when I step closer—when I hover near him like I’m unsure—Beau’s hand finds my lower back.
