By the Book (Meant to Be #2)(42)

She smiled out the window as she considered this. “I’d probably make my friend Priya go out for happy hour with me.” She suddenly missed Priya so much it hurt. “We’d eat a bunch of overpriced snacks, drink some cheap cocktails, talk ourselves into sharing dessert, and then talk ourselves into sharing two desserts.”

Izzy turned back to Beau, but his smile had faded. It came back when he saw her looking at him.

“Sure, let’s do that,” he said.

Beau absolutely didn’t want to do that. She could tell. There’d hardly been anyone around at the beach, but at a crowded happy hour people would recognize him. Right. She’d sort of forgotten he was famous.

“Or,” she said, “we could get some really good takeout and an indulgent dessert to eat at home. Like, ice cream and hot fudge, or something. That might be better for now, since I would sort of like a hot shower, after being thrown into the ice-cold Pacific Ocean numerous times. I’m sure Michaela left a ton of food in the fridge for us for the weekend, but—”

Beau brushed that aside. “That’ll just mean she’ll have less food to cook for us next week. There’s a great ice cream place in town; why don’t we go pick some up and order dinner when we get home?”

That sounded fantastic, actually. And it sounded even better a few seconds later when Beau turned onto the main street, and she saw the rows of bars, packed with people. She wasn’t exactly in the mood for a crowded happy hour either.

“Perfect,” she said. “I’m thinking maybe Thai? Or sushi? But then, thinking about happy hour made me think about bar snacks, so now I’m obviously thinking about mozzarella sticks and buffalo wings.”

Beau stopped at a light and turned to her with a grin. “How about all those things?”

One good thing about Beau was that she never felt self-conscious around him about how much she loved food. Maybe because he clearly loved it as much as she did.

“Are you just saying that because you’re as hungry as I am right now?”

He nodded. “Probably. Being in the water does that to you. I looked up why once—something about your body temperature versus the cold water, blah, blah, blah. I was just satisfied that it wasn’t only my imagination that I was so starving after swimming. Anyway, I hope that explains why I’m about to buy six pints of ice cream. Please don’t tell me we already have some in the freezer; I know and don’t care.”

Like she would ever argue with someone about how much ice cream to buy.

“As long as one of the flavors is cookies and cream, I don’t care what else you get.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s not fair, you can’t make me make all the ice cream decisions on my own, you already know I’m indecisive and difficult; I’ll hold up the line forever. You have to help.”

Izzy rolled her eyes. “Fine, but I’m going to tell you right now, I’ll vote against any ice cream with marshmallows in it.”

Beau narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s your problem with marshmallows? Start looking for a parking spot.”

Izzy scanned the street around them. “They’re only good melted: Rice Krispies Treats, great; put a stick in one, poke it in a fire, excellent. But that’s it. I don’t even like them in hot chocolate, they just dilute the chocolate flavor. And especially never in ice cream; they’re just hard little frozen pucks.” She pointed. “There! At the corner!”

Beau flipped on his blinker. “I have many points to argue with you on everything you just said, but you found us a parking space less than a block away, so I’ll let you have this one. We will eliminate all ice creams with marshmallows in them from our decision matrix.”

They walked toward the ice cream store, where there were already a bunch of people in line. She could feel Beau tense up next to her and turned to him, to say they could go somewhere else, but he just clenched his jaw and kept walking, so she followed him. At first when they got in line, Izzy felt self-conscious, standing there in a thin cotton dress over a damp bathing suit, especially standing there next to Beau. Would people recognize him? And then wonder what he was doing there, with her, when he always dated people who were tall and willowy and mostly blond?

NOT that this was a date. But still.

As she looked at the people who walked by, she worried less. Lots of other people wore swimsuits under dresses, or just swimsuit tops over shorts, and no one in this entire city seemed to own shoes other than flip-flops, Birkenstocks, or sneakers. No one paid her, or Beau, the slightest attention.

Beau took a step closer to her and bent down to whisper in her ear. “Okay, Izzy. Can you do something for me?”

She could feel his breath against the hairs on the back of her neck. She shivered. She was probably just getting chilly, what with the wet swimsuit and the ocean air.

“Depends on what it is,” she said.

He sighed. “I should have known you would answer like that. Okay. Don’t make any sudden moves, but I need someone else to see this guy at the end of the line.”

Izzy turned very slowly and looked at the back of the line. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. She looked around for a few more seconds, trying to be casual, then turned to face Beau. His eyes were full of laughter.

“Okay,” she said. “I could have handled the parrots on his shirt; this is California after all. Even the parrots on his shorts, they’re a little matchy-matchy, but fine. But.” She swallowed. “Um. I wasn’t prepared for the live parrot on his shoulder. Is he going to bring that into the ice cream store with him?”