“Tell him I said he’s soft.” I had hoped after our last conversation, Harrison would head out here. More so, Katelyn would force him. I know she’s having a hard time living so far away from her grandchildren. The thing is, Harrison doesn’t want to move. He loves the beach. The early morning waves, the long drives on his bike up and down the coast line, and the endless summer weather.
“Tell him yourself, old man.” Quinn drops onto a stool by the island, and Paige shows him whatever’s on her screen. Justine chats with Peyton and plays with Juniper.
Mack comes into the kitchen for water.
Paige doesn’t look up from her laptop. But her spine straightens, and she tucks her hair behind her ear. Mack fills his glass. His eyes find her over the rim. Neither one of them says a word.
“Afternoon, sir,” Mack says, suddenly very polite.
“Mack.” I let it sit. “Big game this week?”
“Yes, sir.”
Sir. He never called me sir in his life until he started looking at Paige like that. I let him sweat a second, then nod. He heads back to the game. From the island, Paige looks up, watches him go, and catches me watching her.
“Don’t,” she says.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You said it with your whole face, Dad.”
Across the kitchen, Josie catches my eye and gives the smallest shake of her head. Leave it. I leave it.
Nick lets himself in the side door, a manila folder in one hand, dressed in khakis and a polo.
“Ashford,” I say. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”
He holds out the folder. “Here. Before I forget and your wife has my head.”
I take it and flip it open. A check, made out to the Beaumont fall festival fund. The number on it makes my eyebrows climb.
“What is this, hush money?”
“It’s the boosters’ donation. And mine.” He pulls out a chair and sits. “Some of us write checks instead of building whole city blocks to feel important.”
“That hurt.”
“It was supposed to.”
Josie takes the check out of my hand and reads the number. She crosses the kitchen and kisses Nick on the cheek. “You’re my favorite. Tell the boosters I love them.”
“She says that to everyone who funds her,” I tell Nick.
“She means it more with me.” He says it easy, and Josie laughs and goes back to the stove.
“Festival’s the second Saturday,” Josie says, not turning around. “I’ve got you down for the dunk tank, Nick.”
“You do not.”
“I do. Liam’s doing the kissing booth.”
“I’m doing the what?”
“Joke,” she says. She doesn’t look at me when she says it, which tells me it is absolutely not a joke.
“Heard you’re a love expert now,” he says, catching the beer Quinn tosses him.
“Radio host.”
