If it was about the anniversary party, whatever. They can talk all they want. It would annoy me that Ford wasn’t actually doing his part, but nothing to get all tied up about. This clearly isn’t about the anniversary party, though; this is about business. A business I’m not allowed to be involved in, however much I desperately want to be.
So, I need to know what they’re talking about. If anything, just to have a taste of that insider knowledge.
And that starts with getting closer. I spot a trail through the bushes that abuts their table, and if I’m careful, I can stay undetected. Incognito. I’ll need to move around these bushes while the air conditioner is still running to distract from any noise I might make. As the youngest of three, I know I can be a stealthy sleuth, but I’m weighed down by a cumbersome cast that could throw me off balance at any point. Got to be smart about these things.
Pushing past a few branches, I pause to see if they notice, but they’re both transfixed by the tablet. I make a quick pass through the bushiest shrubs and then land lightly on my feet, arms spread for balance. They’re still focused on the tablet, so I make another leap over a tree branch and then duck under one.
My foot gets caught on the root of a tree and I nearly face plant, but I quickly grab onto a branch with my good hand and hold in the squeal as a wave of “close encounter” heat erupts up my neck.
Ooof, steady, Palmer.
Taking a deep breath, I regain my composure and close in the last few feet, drawing even with their table just as the air conditioner shuts off. Could not have timed that more perfectly.
Quiet, they both study the tablet, and I stand on my toes to get a better look at it.
It’s a new logo for sure.
And it’s good.
But why the hell are Cooper and Larkin working together? And where is Ford? Especially if this has to do with the branding, shouldn’t he be part of the conversation?
“They’re all the same but with slight variations for different generations,” Cooper points out with his finger. “I think one of the greatest attributes the company has over the competition is that we started from a family-owned business. Watchful Wanderers isn’t just a store; it’s a brand itself. People love the feeling behind it. It’s like North Face, and people would wear the logo just because it’s well known in the outdoor community, and I do think that’s something the company could do better with—merchandising its own brand. These logos could help jump-start that.”
Cooper is talking like he knows the business, like he cares.
“This is . . . wow, Cooper, this is huge,” Larkin replies.
“Yeah?” Cooper asks.
“Yeah.”
“So, should we show Ford?”
So Ford doesn’t know? That doesn’t seem right. Ford knows everything that’s happening to the business. Are they—holy crap . . . are they going behind his back?
Just then, the air conditioner spikes on again, and I nearly swear out loud at the old janky thing. Even this close, I can’t hear what they’re saying. But I can read body language, and from what I’m seeing, it looks like they’re definitely working together.
From the shifty looks on their faces to the over-the-shoulder glances . . . yeah, Ford is not aware of this meeting, which means . . . Larkin is working behind his back, and with Cooper of all people. The brother Ford didn’t want involved at all.
But why is the question.
Why doesn’t Ford want either of us working with him?
They stand together and awkwardly wave goodbye. Cooper walks toward the harbor while Larkin heads toward the shop’s outdoor counter.
Suspicious behavior.
A nooner meeting behind the sandwich shop, where they probably didn’t want to be seen.
And a quick parting with no handshake or hug.
There is something going on, something they shouldn’t be—
“Ahh!” I scream as a spider crawls up my arm. “Get off me, you arachnid!”
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.