Chapter 8

“I will never forgive you if you throw me in,” I hiss, even as I realize this is all a natural consequence of my spur-of-the-moment choice to make him go overboard.

His chest presses against mine, and I wait for him to scoop me up, trying to force my muscles to stay rigid when some of them—my heart, namely—are on the verge of collapse.

His arm suddenly retracts from behind me, and he pulls back. My gaze darts to the bright spot that enters my peripheral vision: a flowery red beach towel.

“Just needed this,” he says, laughter written in every line of his face as he holds it up. “I think I’ll take over driving from here if you don’t mind.”

My cheeks burn, and a hundred options run through my mind of what I could do right now: slap him, strangle him with that towel, throw his keys in the water, refuse to move, drive this boat into a reef, kiss him.

My gaze flits down to his lips for a second. What is wrong with you, Gemma!?

I move out of his way without executing any of the options I considered.

I sit on the passenger seat as Beau uses the towel to dry off his hair, then runs it over his body. He could’ve spared himself the trouble for all the good it does. Now I’m stuck with the view of his clothes plastered to his body until they dry out. At least that loose weave will make that happen more quickly .

“Shall we be on our way?” He takes his seat at the wheel and removes his shoes. “I tried to order food that would keep for a bit, but it won’t stay good forever.”

“Lead the way, Magellan,” I say, still rattled by the fact that kissing him was anywhere in my subconscious. Is there a cayenne pepper and lemon juice cleanse for the brain? “How was your meeting with the city council person?” I ask, desperate to have something new to occupy my thoughts.

He shoots a quick glance at me. The sun is to our backs, dipping lower on the horizon as it prepares for sunset. It casts a long, bright path on the water as we run parallel to Sunset Harbor’s east coast. “Why? Did you hear something?”

“Should I have?”

“No. I just didn’t expect you to ask.”

I sit with that for a second. Is that code for you’re a jerk, so even the mildest display of curiosity about my life comes as a surprise ? It might shock Beau to know that I’m generally well-liked. In fact, I’m a downright pleasant person, usually. Sunset Harbor just brings out the worst in me. “So, how was it?”

“Not quite what I’d hoped for.”

“And what were you hoping for?”

He takes a second before responding. “I was asking if the city would hire me on full-time.”

My brows shoot up. That wasn’t what I was expecting. “And they said no?”

“They can’t justify the expense given the low crime rates on the island. I tried to explain how a law enforcement officer functions in more capacities than just responding to crime, but to make a change like that, the council has to be unanimous, and there are a couple…” He hesitates.

“Sawyerites?”

He chuckles. “If you wanna put it that way. Hey, look.” He points to the left of the boat, and I hurry over in time to see a manatee gliding beneath the water .

Manatees are top five on my list of animals that are hideously cute, and it brings a big smile to my face. Beau slows the boat, and we watch as the manatee swims alongside us for a few seconds, then disappears.

I move back to my seat and sit with my legs tucked under me as we speed up again. The wind whips my face, keeping away the humidity. “There are other police departments that need cops, you know.”

“I don’t want to go to another department. I want to stay on Sunset Harbor.”

Well, that’ s something I’ll never understand. It’s kind of like Grams. She says she’ll never leave the island, but she’s never lived anywhere else. “How do you know if you haven’t tried?”

“I have.” He glances at me. “I was with the Miami PD for five years after finishing at the academy.”

I have no response. I’d assumed he’d been here since high school like so many other people. I try to picture Beau patrolling the dark, sketchy streets of Miami, a friendly smile on his face.

“Almost there,” he says as we come to a place where the island juts out into the water. It’s covered in mangroves whose branches and trunks are indistinguishable from each other as they reach down into the green water.

Beau guides the boat around, slowing the engine so there’s no wake.

“Are we in the preserve?” I ask. The very north side of the island houses the Belacourt family’s fancy-shmancy resort, the golf course, and a nature preserve.

He nods as we round a promontory, and the view opens up to a small bay with a stretch of secluded beach. With the glow of the sun behind, illuminating the outline of the palms and making the crystalline water shimmer, my breath catches.

Beau smiles at my reaction.

“Don’t get excited,” I warn. “It’s pretty, but it’s a mere grain of sand weighed on a scale against a mountain of boulders. ”

“One grain at a time,” he says.

The boat glides toward the beach, and Beau kills the engine, activates the switch to tilt it up, then hefts the anchor over. I watch for a few seconds, impressed by how good boating looks on him.

“Are you okay to get a bit wet?” He slings a backpack over his shoulders, then pulls the towel over like a graduation stole. “Or will that move our cherished grain of sand over to the other side of the scale?”

Now that we’re stopped, the humidity is building, only kept at bay by a minor breeze. Getting my legs wet sounds a little bit perfect. But I won’t let him know that.

“I’ll allow it.”

He chuckles, then hops over the side of the boat, making enough of a splash that a few drops hit me in the face and on my shirt.

“Oops,” he says with zero remorse. “Can you hand me the bag of food?”

I give it to him, then slip off my sandals and swing over the edge of the boat. I do my best to minimize my splash, and Beau smiles from behind the hand he’s using to shield himself.

“Unexpected,” he muses, lowering his hand and looking impressed. “I thought you’d do a cannonball to drench me again.”

I make my way toward shore through the warm water and look back at him over my shoulder. “I had to protect the food.”

I secretly marvel at the way I can see my feet perfectly in the glimmering water, despite being in up to my calves. It’s a welcome change from the LA beaches I’m used to, where getting into the ocean requires both mental prep for the cold and a leap of faith that nothing lethal is hanging around your legs in the murky water.

Beau sets the food on the only rock on the beach, then takes off his backpack and rifles through it, bringing out a black and cream Turkish towel. He shakes it out, and I grab the other side.

His gaze darts to mine, like I’ve taken him by surprise. He clearly doesn’t think much of me if I can shock him by helping lay out a beach blanket. I guess it’s not a bad thing to have a super-low bar for impressing someone.

Not that I’m trying to impress Beau.

He straightens the edge of the blanket and sets the bag of food right in the middle. I look out at the sparkling water, then around the secluded beach, with its perfect palm trees and soft, white sand.

It definitely gives date vibes. If Grams showed up right now—heaven forbid—she would accuse me of high treason. I’d be guillotined first thing in the morning.

But what am I supposed to do? Beau says it’s not a date, and insisting that it seems like one doesn’t sound like a great idea—or a good look. The right thing to do is chill out and stop noticing things about Beau that a person on a date with him would notice.

I sit on the towel on the other side of the food bag, leaning back on the heels of my hands.

“Ready for some good food, Gemma?”

I look at him and cock an eyebrow. “I’ve been ready, Beau.” His hair has dried most of the way, and it has the slightest wave thanks to the chaos of the forced swim and the wind. It glints in the sunlight too.

Which is a purely scientific observation.

Beau pulls out the food and offers me a steak and cheese sandwich.

I try to take my time unwrapping it so I don’t seem like a starved crazy woman.

“Mm,” Beau says as he chews, closing his eyes to savor it.

My gaze lingers on him for a few seconds, wondering if it’s ever exhausting for him to live like he does: apparently enjoying every single thing about life on Sunset Harbor—and looking so good while doing it.

I bite into my sandwich and suppress the urge to vocalize my happiness as the flavors come to life in my mouth. I’ve gone to a lot of pretty swanky business lunches in LA and had some really good food, but Sunrise Cafe can hold its own.

“Do we have another grain of sand?” Beau asks with excitement as he watches me.

Apparently, I’m not concealing my appreciation as well as I thought.

“Maybe,” I say grudgingly, but I can’t stop a smile as he does a fist pump. “It’s a grain, Beau.” I take another bite and glance behind me at the short beach that’s quickly overtaken by thick palms and heaven only knows what. “You did manage to bring me to a place on the island I’ve never seen.”

“Most people haven’t,” he allows. “But honestly, it’s not just this spot. The entire island is beautiful.”

“It is,” I grant him. “But beauty’s only skin-deep.”

“Sometimes. But most of the time, I think people just stop looking too soon.”

I stare at his profile, thinking about that for a second. I’m sure he’s right. But I keep it to myself, shifting my gaze to the water again. It’s so calm here, only the smallest waves lapping at the shore. The sun is dipping below the trees, which means it’s not beating on our backs, making the air warm and pleasant.

“Just a sec.” Beau sets down his sandwich and gets up, careful not to flick sand on me or his food. Then he grabs his backpack and jogs along the beach toward the other end.