“Then why not just ask them for help?”
“Because I can’t.”
“Because of your pride?” Laramie asks, sounding annoyed.
“No, because . . . because I don’t deserve their help,” I say, just as my eyes connect with the Victorian house up ahead, reminding me of the man who works there.
So much happened.
So much I don’t talk about . . . with anyone.
“How do you not deserve your family’s help? That’s what family is for, Palmer.”
“Yeah, I know, but this is different.” A figure moves past one of the Victorian house’s windows, and just from the silhouette, I know it’s Beau. “I didn’t tell you . . . I, uh . . . I ran into Beau.”
“Beau? Who’s Beau—oh wait . . . the Beau.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Yup, but he’s Dr. Beau now.”
“Oh, now that has a nice ring to it. Let me guess, given your luck, he has a ‘call me daddy’ vibe, doesn’t he?”
“I’m pretty sure I almost called him that when he was examining my head and I got lost in the dignified smell of his cologne. Tom Ford.”
“Ohhh, devastating to one’s burning loins.”
“Yeah, and those loins were ignited and roaring.” I take a deep breath. “He’s all grown up, Laramie, even more handsome than before. And because I’m completely obtuse, I didn’t recognize him. Granted, I was hungover and still trying to comprehend what was happening, but he looks different. Incredibly masculine, filled out in all the right spots. But thanks to my love of wine, I’m pretty sure he still thinks I’m an idiot.”
“Well, I mean, it’s not every day he bandages someone up for cracking their head open with a wine bottle. You never know, maybe he found it charming.”
“Trust me, he didn’t. And it didn’t help that my mom told him my nipples are pierced.”
“How did your mom find that out?”
I sigh. “She bathed me the morning after the incident.”
“Jesus . . . Mary . . . and Madonna, why on earth would you let your mother do such a thing?” Laramie’s voice is full of disgust.
“Still trying to figure that out.” I catch Larkin approaching with a take-out bag, and she gives me a wave when she spots me. “Hey, I need to go.”
“You’re going to leave me with the information that your mom bathed you?”
“Yes. Enjoy.”
I hang up and catch up to Larkin.
“Hey,” she says cheerfully with a smile that could make anyone’s day brighter. How Ford hasn’t fallen in love with this girl, I will never know.
She’s the total package. Stunning beauty, incredible smarts, and a heart of gold. Whenever I’ve hung out with her, I’ve always wondered why she’s not doing more, why she’s sticking around as Ford’s assistant when she has so much more potential.
“How are you feeling?” Larkin asks.
“Better,” I answer, leaving out the part where I’m completely humiliated from outwardly lusting after her brother. “Are you guys having lunch?” Larkin nods. “Think I can crash and hang out for a bit? I won’t eat anything.”
“Don’t be silly, we have plenty of food to go around.”
I hold my stomach. “Really not that hungry—just looking for some company that isn’t an old married couple fighting over the temperature of the house.”
She chuckles. “Can’t make any promises about temperature arguments. Your brother likes to freeze me out, but we can offer you some company.”
“That’s all I’m looking for.”
Together, we head into the bed-and-breakfast and straight up the stairs to the top floor, where Ford has set up shop. “I’m going to apologize about the mess in advance. The rebranding has forced us to lay everything out across the bedroom.”
Huh, so Ford is rebranding. Just like I suspected. Dad mentioned something offhand the other day, and I clocked those mock-ups the last time I was here, but I didn’t think he’d rebrand without consulting the whole family. After all, when it comes to big decisions about the business, Ford always asks us, even though we don’t work for the company.
“I’m sure it’s not half as bad as Cooper’s bedroom growing up,” I say, hiding my surprise. “You basically needed a boat to enter his room so you didn’t drown in the crap on his floor.”
“And let me guess, Ford was the tidy one? Despite the mess we have upstairs.”
“You guessed right. He had a spot for every single thing in his room, and if it was out of place, he would know about it.”
“Did he use a ruler?”
I chuckle. “I think maybe a few times, but it was more to be obnoxious than anything.”
When we reach the room, Larkin walks right in without knocking. I love her comfort level with my brother.
I remember the first time I met Larkin, back when I was fresh from graduating college and visiting Ford in Denver. I thought she looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. Then Ford told me about her story, and it all clicked. I’d seen her plenty of times around the island . . . with Beau. Yeah, we were never close with their family, though I do remember seeing her in the store with her dad—but my eyes were more focused on Beau whenever they were around. Ford told me how she’d come to him, practically begging for a chance to work for Watchful Wanderers, even if it was to clean the toilets. Anything to keep that connection with her father. I thought it was endearing, and then I spent some time with her and realized what a ball of sunshine she is. Seeing her interact with my brother, how she cares for him, pushes him, makes him consider a new way of approaching the business—it’s obvious how in sync they are. I just wish for his sake that he’d realize their partnership could be so much more.
“Look who I found,” Larkin announces while setting the bag of food on a small bistro table.
Sitting at an old mahogany writing desk, Ford looks up. When he sees the guest is me, he gives me a strange look before standing and shuffling some papers together, which he rests facedown on the desk.
“Palmer, what, uh . . . what are you doing here?”
I take in the poster boards scattered over the sitting area of Ford’s suite. I think they’ve multiplied since I was last here. Logos in different colors are printed across them—Watchful Wanderers logos, but modernized. Instead of the brown and green logo I’m so used to seeing, these logos are orange and blue and neon green. Instead of a homey, family feel that gives you comfort, they look like a bunch of corporate logos that don’t read expensive—just impersonal.
“I thought I’d stop by.” I scan the room again, my eyes falling on one logo in particular, bright orange with a fox as the mascot. What on earth is that? Reminds me of some sort of wannabe tractor company. “What’s going on in here? Looks like rebranding to me, Ford.”
Larkin looks between us. “Oh, I’m sorry, was I not supposed to—?”
“You said something to her?” Ford asks Larkin.
“I thought . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” Larkin stumbles over her words, and I feel a pang of sympathy for her.