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Chapter
Thirteen
Grant knew heshould stop kissing Bea out on the open beach, where all of Ben’s clients and friends—a lot of whom were also Grant’s friends—could see.
He simply couldn’t do it.
She tasted like vanilla beans and peaches, and he never wanted to eat anything else.His last meal would be apple-peach cobbler with vanilla ice cream just to remind him of this woman.Her mouth fit against his with precision, and he felt sure she’d been made to kiss him and only him.
He moved in a slow, deliberate way, sliding his fingertips along the curve of her earlobe, and then moving his hand down her back to that delicious swell in her hip.He pressed there, bringing her as close to him as he could get her.
“We should go,” she murmured against his lips, and Grant thought that was a very good idea.He led her along the outskirts of the firelight, grabbed Ben and said goodbye, and took Bea back to the beach cottage, which now had the air conditioning restored.
He walked her to the door, their fingers intertwined and the feeling between them sweet and tender yet charged with passion.She paused there, and Grant gave her a smile.“An early dinner tomorrow?”he asked.“Before Lauren comes in.”
“I’d like that,” she said, leaning into his chest again.For some reason, the way she did that made him feel so strong, and he wrapped her in his arms.
“What are you going to do tomorrow?”he asked.“I double- and triple-checked my calendar, and I’m free after one.”
“Then I’ll walk in the morning, make a picnic lunch, and maybe we can go to the beach when you get done with work.”She lifted her eyebrows, plenty of flirty vibes dancing in her eyes.“Do you relax on the beach, Grant?”
With her, he would.“Sure,” he said.“A beach afternoon.Sounds amazing.”
“Great,” she said, easing out of his arms.“See you tomorrow then.”
Grant wanted to kiss her again, so he caught her hand right before she got all the way away from him.He pulled her back in and kissed her one more time, everything in his life shifting with this second connection with Bea Callahan.
Grant updated hiscalendar for the bungalow next door, then the pair of condos he managed, and then three other properties, one of which was the beach cottage that Bea currently rented.
It was one of his more popular rentals, and he loved getting people into his places for longer amounts of time.Then he didn’t have quite so much housekeeping to do.
With summer almost upon South Carolina, Grant would need to double-check with his groundskeeping company, and he bent to open the drawer in his desk where he kept his contracts and contacts.
He used Harrison Tate at Tate Landscaping to take care of the individual yards—including his—while the condos had an HOA fee for that amenity.The phone calls, the emails, the paperwork, none of it had ever bothered him before.
It didn’t today either; an itch simply existed beneath the top layer of his skin, telling him he could be kissing Bea.
Thinking of her didn’t help his focus, and he blinked at the paper in front of him.Right.Collaborations for the summer.He put coupons for specific restaurants, The Mad Mango, the historical lighthouse over in Sea Pines, and other of the better local attractions in each of his units.The summer tourist season brought over a million people to the island’s beaches, and Grant picked up the phone to call the woman who owned the best Indian restaurant on the island.
About eleven, the furniture store where he’d purchased a desk for his new assistant called, and not five minutes later, the men and desk showed up.
They were in and out, and then Grant stood next to the new desk.Vanessa, his new assistant, would most likely need a computer, but Grant had ordered one of those online.It should be on his porch by the time he got home tonight, and he’d set it up sometime before Vanessa showed up for work on Monday.
He sighed thinking about how he should probably have a list of tasks for her to complete, and the thought of a list took him back to Bea.
She could probably help him with such a list, and he determined to speak to her about it later that day.
By the time he left his office, Grant’s restlessness ate at him, and he drove a little too fast on the way to the beach cottage.He pulled up to the cute little house and killed the engine, getting out before he realized a police car had pulled up behind him.
His stomach sank to his shoes.The officer got out, checking the area as he did, and he lifted his shades as he settled his gaze on Grant.
“Hey, Lawrence,” Grant said easily, knowing the man hadn’t just stopped by for a chat.
“Grant,” he said, taking a couple of slow steps toward him.Everything the man did came in shades of slow.In fact, Grant had never met a man who could tell a story and take as long as Lawrence Murphy did.
“Everything okay?”he asked.
“Yeah,” Grant said, pocketing his keys.“Just finished at work and trying to get here for…the rest of my day.”He wasn’t lying, but maybe he’d made it sound like he had a ton of work left to do here at the beach cottage.Lawrence knew he owned the house and rented it out.There had been some squabbling in this neighborhood about rentals, and Grant had managed to keep his cottage rented because of how long he’d been doing it.
