Chapter 18

My first act on waking the next morning isn’t to text Eugene to ask for an update. It’s not to check my email in case there’s a message from work. It’s not even to go to the bathroom.

I hurry downstairs, unlock the front door, and step outside in all my mussed-hair-and-bleary-eyed glory. My gaze finds the birdfeeder right away. Back in Palmer territory.

I mutter threats under my morning breath, my mouth drawn up in a reluctant smile as I head back inside and shut the door. I might be brave enough to venture on the porch thirty seconds after waking up, but when I move that feeder, I’ll do it looking a bit more put together. This island has seen enough of me in my pajamas in the last twelve hours.

I shower and put on my button-up shirt and slacks for the first time in days as a text from Beau comes in.

Beau

Good morning, GG. I’m heading to the office in a few minutes. Care to join me?

I start typing that I’ll be out in five, hesitate, then erase it.

Gemma

I’ll catch up with you. Not quite ready yet.

I can’t imagine what sort of rumors will fly if Beau and I show up to the city offices together. Someone will probably tell Grams they saw us applying for a marriage license, which is completely insane for so many reasons, not least of which is that Beau wants a Sunset Harbor girl. I’m as far from that as he could find.

Also, there’s the whole issue of hating him.

Pretty confident that’s still in effect.

Somewhat confident, let’s say.

Armed with my phone and laptop and feeling more put together than I have in days, I head to town hall and park the cart in one of the few stalls there as another text rolls in. Impatient much?

But it’s not Beau.

Eugene

We’ve got a couple interested buyers this morning.

I do a fist pump as a wave of relief washes over me. I know it’s only been a day since it listed, but the crickets were making me worry.

I type out my response, then head inside to find Beau. It’s a small building, so it doesn’t take long. He’s standing behind Jane Hayes, who’s seated at a desk, while he leans over her to look at a piece of paper.

It’s a normal business view, but it makes me feel…something. Something I don’t like. Something that doesn’t feel much like hate.

Beau glances up, then smiles. “You showed up.”

“You thought I wouldn’t? Hey, Jane.”

“Hey, Gemma! Good to see you again.” She checks the time on her phone. “Shoot. I’ve gotta go. I’ll just leave this on your desk.”

He puts out a hand. “I can take it. I’ll work on it right away.”

“Thanks.” She hands the paper to him. “Oh! Hey, can I ask you a huge favor?”

“The bigger the better. ”

“Is there any way you could pick me up tomorrow?”

I pretend not to be thoroughly invested in the conversation. It doesn’t sound like they’re discussing a date—generally, people don’t refer to being picked up for a date a huge favor , right?

“Yeah,” Beau says. “What time and where?”

She clenches her teeth. “On the mainland?”

Beau’s brows hitch up in surprise.

“I know,” Jane says. “Huge hassle. I’m getting my wisdom teeth out at nine tomorrow morning. Tala can take me, but she can’t pick me up. So, you’d be coming to get me around…noon?”

“Yup. Got it.”

“Thank you! You’re a life saver!” She leans in for a quick hug that elicits a totally uncalled for visceral reaction from me. “I’ll text you all the details.”

So, not a date…but he’s picking her up from the dentist. I don’t know if that’s more or less intense. It’s definitely a close friendship, at the very least. But Beau is also the type of guy who makes everyone feel like he’s their best friend.

Somehow, he makes even paperwork look like an enjoyable task, humming and keeping a conversation going with me the entire time once Jane leaves. I suspect part of his continuous talking is because he’s uncomfortable with me recording him and he’s trying to distract himself. It would be kind of nice if he was cocky about it instead, but he seems not to enjoy being the center of attention.

Unfortunately, he’s become the center of my attention.

After an hour of paperwork and calls, we head out for a patrol of the island, which he does once a day as a way to keep an eye on things. I’ve always thought of cops on patrol as trying to catch people out, but driving around the entire island with Beau puts a different perspective on things.

We stop to help a man fixing his shed roof. We check in at Beach Break Bar and Grill to make sure things went okay last night with the party people we dropped off. We stop at the marina to check the boats are properly tethered in preparation for the wind expected tonight. We knock on the door of an old woman named Marj who lives alone but can’t afford to move to Seaside Oasis. She invites us inside for lemonade and very well-baked cookies. Apparently, Beau checks in on her once a week, and she spends a whole five minutes gushing to me about him, completely ignoring his attempts to direct the conversation elsewhere.

I’m torn between trying to increase his discomfort by prodding her for more and shutting her down because I don’t need anyone’s praise for Beau in my head.

Part of me wants to stick around after patrol to see what else happens, but the more rational side of my brain realizes I should get some other things done too. Like hanging out with Grams or compiling information about utility costs for interested buyers. As in, the reasons I came to Sunset Harbor in the first place.

Beau drops me off at home, but when he asks if I’d like to come out for the next day’s patrol at seven thirty a.m., my answer is yes.

The next morning, I’m getting ready when I hear a muted plink on my window. Trying not to smile, I head over and open it. “It’s only 7:26, Officer.”

He smiles up at me, looking like he inhaled sunshine for breakfast. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t still asleep. Work starts at seven thirty, sharp.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

I make sure to step out of the front door when I’ve only got three seconds to spare before it turns 7:31.

The first task of morning patrol is monitoring traffic in front of the small preschool and kindergarten near the town square. I stay on the side of the road, while Beau ensures the kids and their accompanying parents are practicing safe street-crossing behavior.

I smile as he shows Violet from the pet adoption booth a yellow flag attached to a wood stick. He takes it in hand and marches across the street, bringing his knees almost up to his chest with each step. She’s delighted, then gives it a try herself.

After that, we head into town for Beau to take care of parking enforcement. He’s such a softie, though, that when we stumble upon the only two carts improperly parked, he asks me to run into the general store and warn the owners while he writes the tickets.

When I emerge with them behind me, Beau glances up from his ticket pad and shakes out his pen. “Dang pen won’t work. I’ll have to run inside and buy a new one so I can finish these tickets.” He winks at them, and they scramble to their carts.

He checks his watch as we get settled back in the cop cart. “I’ve got to head to pick up Jane soon.”

“That’s nice of you to do,” I say significantly.

He shrugs. “She’s a good friend. Plus, something tells me she’ll be really interesting coming off the anesthesia.” Just as we’re pulling into the city hall parking lot, his phone rings. He pulls into a nonexistent spot and hurries to answer.

“Officer Palmer here, go ahead,” he says.

There’s a pause, punctuated by mmhmm s. “10-4,” he finally says. “I’ll head there right away.” He hangs up, then pulls the cart next to mine. “I’ve got to go to the resort again.”

“Oh my gosh, they went back?” I’m picturing that stretch golf cart, full of hungover college boys, parked haphazardly in the resort lot.

“No. At least I don’t think it’s them. One of the resort guests is worried she’s got a Peeping Tom. But we’ve already done a lot today. You don’t have to come. ”

“Are you kidding? This is exactly the sort of thing we need to capture.”

He smiles like he’s happy I’m sticking around. “Then let’s get a move on.” He texts a guy named Walker to pick up Jane from her appointment while we head toward the Belacourt Resort.

“Privacy is really important to this guest,” Beau says, “so make sure none of the photos or videos you take have any identifying information in them, okay?”

“Of course,” I say, my curiosity sparked. “I’ll make sure not to get any photos of him. Or her.” I steal a sidelong glance at him, but he’s already looking at me, a knowing smile on his lips.

“What?” I ask innocently.

“To answer your not-so-subtle fishing?—”

“I was not fishing,” I protest. “Just…trawling. But you were saying…?”

He shoots me an amused look. “It’s Presley James. Can you keep that to yourself?”

I scoff. “Says the man who lives on an island full of gossips. Of course I can. I’m from LA, Beau. Celebrities are a dime a dozen.” It’s a bit of an exaggeration, especially because Presley James is a lot more exciting than some of the celebs I’ve seen. She’s an A-list movie star.

“You’re from Sunset Harbor, GG,” Beau says. “Whether you like it or not. You just took a detour to LA.”

“It can’t be both detour and destination.”

“You really prefer LA to this?” He gestures toward the open coast to our left. The water is Kool-Aid blue with white sand and swaying palm trees. It looks paradisiacal, there’s no doubt about it. The people here are the problem.

My gaze shifts to Beau, and my heart stutters a little. See? Big problem.

“Yep,” I say. “Call me crazy, but I like being able to go to the pharmacy without everyone making conjectures about what’s wrong with me.”

“They gossip because they care.”

“Sounds like an abusive relationship. Let’s just agree that Presley James came to the wrong place if she was looking for anonymity.”

“Maybe,” he says. “She might not have anonymity here, and the islanders may gossip about things ad nauseum , but they’re also a very loyal town, and they’d protect her if push came to shove.”

Thankfully, we’ve arrived at the resort because I don’t know how to respond to that. All I can hear in Beau’s compliments about the island is that my family wasn’t worth protecting.

He’s right in that way, though—the island is loyal. Loyal in their love and their hatred.

I follow Beau at a discreet distance with my phone at the ready while he does a check around the property. It turns out our Peeping Tom is just one of the gardeners, working in the bushes.

We head to Presley’s door, and Beau knocks. I’ve got to say, if I ever had to get terrible news from a police officer, I’d want it to be someone as caring as Beau.

“Who is it?” the feminine voice behind the door asks.

“It’s Officer Palmer and my…assistant.”

The door opens, revealing a familiar face. Presley James is every bit as beautiful as she is on the big screen. I’ve seen her with a lot of hairstyles and colors, but right now, her dark brown hair is cut bluntly just above her shoulders.

“Just wanted to let you know that you have nothing to worry about,” Beau says. “It was one of the resort gardeners in your bushes. Apparently, he lost control of one of his tools and worried it flew into your window, so he was looking to see if it was inside. He found it in a nearby bush. ”

Presley lets out a breath of relief, hand over her heart. “Thank you, Officer. I’m sorry I’m so paranoid.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Beau says with a smile. “It’s what I’m here for. Call whenever you need.”

I stifle a scoff as my gaze shifts between them smiling at each other. I can’t blame Beau if he’s starstruck right now—I am too—but I blame him anyway.

Presley looks at me and smiles. “Thanks for your help.”

“Glad to do it,” I say. “If you’re feeling safe, we should get going. Crimes don’t solve themselves, you know!”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she says. “I won’t keep you. Thank you again.”

Beau nods, and Presley closes the door.

“What crimes are we in a rush to solve again?” Beau asks.

“The crime of your ogling Presley James,” I say, striding down the hallway toward the exit.

“Hold on,” Beau says, his voice full of amusement. “Are you jealous , GG?”

“I’m embarrassed,” I say. “It’s very different.” But I am a little jealous.