The Reunion(88)

I twist.

Swat.

Screech when it crawls up my arm some more.

Swat again.

Twist again.

Foot gets caught.

Balance is lost.

And . . . splat.

Whack.

Sitting in a pile of mud, cast covered in yesterday’s rain puddle, I watch as the branch that just whacked me between the eyes bounces back and forth in front of me.

I lift up my cast and groan as I realize, once again, I got it wet. But not only wet: I got it caked in mud.

Sore from the fall, I lift myself up, my muddy butt practically suctioned to the ground, and stand, feeling every nick and scrape from the branches.

Really great.

Huffing, I pop through a gap in the bushes that leads to the back of the shop and make no attempt to brush myself off; there’s no use.

Sighing in frustration, I’m heading toward the front of the shop just as I run into Larkin.

“Oh, Palmer. Hey.” She glances at my cast and then back up. “Oh no, did you fall?”

“Unfortunately,” I say, my voice bitter. Questions linger on the tip of my tongue. Questions like What the hell are you doing talking to Cooper? And Why are you trying to create a brand without Ford? And OH GOD, can you see it on my face that I was with your little brother last night? And Why does your hair always look so damn perfect every second of every day? Is that a strong-hold hair spray, or more of a Spray & Play?

But I hold everything back because anything I say is going to come out way angrier, thanks to my current predicament.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Can I help you?”

“No, no, that’s fine.”

“Larkin,” the person at the counter says, handing her a bag. Larkin quickly grabs it and holds it tightly in her hand.

“Grabbing lunch for Ford?”

“Uh, yeah. You know how he loves the roast beef.”

Her eyes shift to the side, where Cooper just retreated.

Could she be any more obvious?

“Can’t get enough of it, huh?”

“Yup.” She pats the bag. “Well, I should get back to the inn. Lots of work to be done.”

“Yes, and you wouldn’t want to keep the boss waiting too long, right?”

“Right,” she says hesitantly. “Well, then, if you don’t need any help”—she gestures to my hand—“then I guess I’ll get going.”

“Have a good day.” I wave to her as she takes off, glancing over her shoulder at me as if I’ve lost it.

And maybe I have.

Maybe I have completely lost it, but there is something afoot, and from the looks of it, Ford has no idea. And even though we’ve said some unsavory things to each other recently, there’s one thing I know for sure: Ford needs to be aware of what’s going on.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

DR. BEAU

“Dr. Beau, Cooper Chance is here,” Tara, my receptionist, says. “He needs a refill for his dad.”

“Oh, sure. Send him in,” I say as a wave of anxiety shoots up my back.

I shouldn’t be nervous, but for some reason, all I can think about is that I was with his sister last night. That I kissed her. Felt her. Touched her. Played with her.

Will he be able to see it on my face?

Would he care?

“Hey, Dr. Beau,” Cooper says, crossing the threshold of my office.

“Hey, Cooper,” I say. “What brings you to the island today?”

“Oh, you know, had a meeting and then was going to go check on my parents, but my mom called and asked if I could pick up the refill prescription you have for my dad’s meds.”

“Yeah, let me see if I have that.”

I pull up Martin Chance’s chart on my computer and go to his medications.

“I don’t understand why the pharmacy won’t just let you send it or call it in. This is such a pain in the ass for everyone.”

I pull out a prescription pad from my desk and write out his medication and dosage with the pen my dad used to use when he’d write poems on his hikes. “It’s really okay on our end. Not a big deal at all.” Nervously, I reach for my water and take a drink, only to spill it over my shirt.

“Whoa, everything okay?” Cooper asks, looking around, probably for a napkin of some sort.

“Yeah.” I laugh nervously while picking up a napkin from my desk. “Sorry. Long night.”

“Storm was crazy, right?” Cooper asks just as there’s another knock on my door.

Tara pops her head in. “Dr. Beau, Palmer Chance is here with an emergency.”

Oh hell.

She joked at lunch how she was going to come to my office with an emergency, only to surprise me with her naked body in a trench coat, needing an “exam.”

Please, Jesus, don’t let her be in a trench coat. If she was embarrassed last night with the lab coat, she’d be horrified showing up in a trench coat, only to find her brother waiting for a prescription.

“Is she okay?” Cooper asks Tara, concern in his voice.

“She looks okay.”

Oh shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She’s in the trench coat.

“Um, tell her I’ll be right with—”

“Beau, I need your help,” Palmer says, coming into my office but stopping short when she sees her brother.