“Probably a smart move, given your inability to compartmentalize,” I say, my gaze drifting back to the damned fonts.
“I’m not going to lash out at you for that comment.” She takes a seat across from me and lifts my chin up, forcing me to look at her. “I need you to focus on me.” She snaps her finger in front of my face. “Focus, Ford. Right here, you and me.”
I set my paper down and lean back in my chair. “What do you need, Palmer?” I fold my arms over my chest.
She rests her cast on the table and leans forward. “Dr. Beau . . . he’s . . . the Beau.”
Ah, she figured out who Beau was at her appointment this morning.
“Yes, that’s correct,” I answer casually, even though everybody on the island knows how much Palmer crushed on the guy back in high school. Not sure she knows that I know, but her feelings were evident just from one look through her yearbook.
“Did you know this last night? That he was a doctor here on Marina Island?”
“I did. You know, since his sister is my assistant and all. We do occasionally talk about our siblings.”
“How is he a doctor? I didn’t even know he wanted to be a doctor. I thought it took forever to get a medical degree. Doesn’t he have, like, eleven more years in medical school?” She throws her arms up in the air.
“Fast-tracked. Top of his class. Took him nine years to complete everything, including residency. He studied with Dr. Weazleton as well and then took over the practice and moved the office to where it is now. I’m surprised Mom and Dad never told you.”
“No one said anything. And, uh, can we talk about how different he looks? I mean, he’s all beefy and handsome with his manly man features.” I raise a brow at her. “And his hands were soft and large and . . . God, Ford, you have no idea the kind of embarrassment I put myself through this morning.”
“This morning?” I ask, surprised. “Can’t be any worse than last night.”
Her eyes widen. “What the hell did I do last night? Oh, dear God, I didn’t try to lick him, did I?”
I wince. “Is that something you normally do? Lick men?”
She rolls her eyes. “Just once, when I was in Italy. The chef who made me the most amazing pizza of my life smelled like the pepperoni he used, and for some reason I got caught up in the scent and ended up licking his arm. It was not my finest moment, I will admit that, but I found something out about myself. I tend to lick people that I think smell good, and Dr. Beau smelled heavenly. Oh God, did I lick him?”
“There was no licking—”
“Thank God for that—”
“But you did attempt to put your finger in his chin dimple.” Her mouth falls open. “Don’t worry, I spared you from doing such a thing. From the look on your face, the chin dimple was not mentioned.”
“It was not.” She groans. “Why, why did this happen to me?”
“I think it was a lethal combination of the denial train you’re on and your choice to indulge in a copious amount of wine.” When she slouches in her chair, I say, “I think I should also tell you that you told him he looks like he belongs in GQ.”
She rubs her hand carefully over her forehead, avoiding her butterfly bandage. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Nope. It happened.”
She shakes her head. “This is exactly why I never come back here—the past haunts me.”
“How is the past haunting you?” I ask. “If anything, it’s more the present that’s ruining things.”
“You don’t get it.” Palmer stands from her chair. “There’s history with Beau.”
“Because he saved you from the fire at Watchful Wanderers?”
“That’s not even a blip on my radar when it comes to Beau. Also, when did he become so . . . so . . .”
“GQ?” I tease.
“Yes.” She flings her good arm to the ceiling. “God, he was all kinds of handsome in that lab coat. I just wanted to tear at it and bury my—”
“Hey, slow down. I don’t need the details about exactly what you want to do to Dr. Beau, but I do want to know what you’re keeping from me.”
She straightens. “What do you mean? I’m not keeping anything from you. Why would you say that?”
“The panic in your voice isn’t telling at all.” When she doesn’t say anything, I sigh. “You said the fire is barely a blip, that there’s history with Beau. What history, exactly?”
“Oh, that.” She swallows hard and walks over to the window. “Just some other history.” She spins on her heel. “Did you know Cooper ordered a butterscotch cake for the party? I rectified that decision.”
“You’re sidestepping. What are you not telling me?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” She walks toward my door but then pauses and points at the mock-ups near the fireplace. “What are those?”
I glance at them and then back at Palmer. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
Her eyes narrow. “I’m worried.”
“Don’t be. Worry about yourself. Seems like you have a lot going on.”
“Are you rebranding the store?”
I stand and walk to my sister. I spin her toward the door and lead her out of my room. “Worry about what you’re going to do about Dr. Beau, since it seems like there’s history there.”
She whips her head back to me. “Was there anything else I did? You know, just so I can be aware?”
“I think we pretty much covered it.”
“Perfect,” she mutters as she leaves. I shut the door behind her and stare at the mock-ups near the fireplace.
I need to clear my mind, and I only know one way to do that.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LARKIN
In the distance, the Marina Island ferry approaches for its two o’clock shuttle. There normally aren’t many people coming to Marina Island at this time, nor are they leaving, which makes me wonder why they’ve always kept the time spot.
I dangle my legs off the old rock wall that lines my favorite running route and overlooks the bay while I let the afternoon sun heat up my already heated and sweating body. The water crashes into the cliff below, sending ocean spray up against my legs but not soaking me.
I miss this. The ocean, the sun glaring off it, the smell of salty air. I love living in Denver, but something about being on Marina Island puts a smile on my face. When Ford asked if I’d be opposed to coming back here for a month, I jumped right on the opportunity.
It’s home, and even if my parents are no longer with us, I still feel like they’re here. I know that’s one of the main reasons Beau came back to Marina Island—to be reminded of our parents, to feel their presence. And the fact that he realized his dream of being the town’s general practitioner and converting the old Victorian house on Marina Ave into his practice . . . I know Mom and Dad would be more than proud of him.
The pounding of approaching footsteps pulls me from my thoughts. I turn just in time to see Ford running in my direction. His white Under Armour shirt is drenched in sweat and clinging to every surface of his chest, revealing his thick pecs, his defined shoulders, and the deep divots of his abs. His strong legs propel him forward, and I have to look away to gain my bearings before he arrives.