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She opened her eyes to narrow slits, then studied him. “Go ahead and say it.”
A small smile rose to his lips. “Those things aren’t good—”
“For me, I know.” She smiled back . . . just a bit. “They’re not good for my lungs, my throat, my mouth . . .” Her voice trailed off as she met his eyes. “Always the devoted friend watching out for me, huh? You’re one of the last true gentlemen in the world, Beau Sutton.” The teasing note in her voice disappeared. “Trust me, there are other things hurting me a lot worse than this cigarette ever will. So grant me my small mercies, will you?”
He held her gaze. Toyed with a soggy napkin that lay beneath one of four empty shot glasses on the table. “You want to talk about it?”
The salt-laden air between them grew heavy. His gut sank, swallowed up by the same wave of dread that had washed over him the past two nights. The eerie feel of the images emblazoned in his memory—and Viv’s especially, he imagined—was bad enough, but putting words to them . . . ?
“No.” She tipped her head farther back and stared upward.
His shoulders relaxed, and his hand grew still on the napkin.
“I hope I didn’t put you and your dad out by being off the job for two days.” A note of apology entered her tone. “I bet poor Cal got stuck manning the gate?”
He winced, the clang of Kit’s bat against wrought iron and Cal’s unsettled expression still fresh in his memory. “Yeah.”
“I promise to make it up to him.” She looked at him earnestly. “You’ll tell him, won’t you? And I swear I’ll pull my weight and then some the second I come back.”
“Don’t even think it,” he said. “You always do more than your fair share, and you’re welcome to take as much time off as you want.”
Her lips twisted briefly. “Nate okay with that?”
“Of course.”
“How’d the roast go tonight?” She cut her eyes his way, eagerness flickering through her expression. “Everyone show?”
“Yeah. We sold out of tickets yesterday.” He winked. “The golf-cart caravan left their gated paradise on time and braved the south side of Hope just for a taste of Pearl Tide’s rumored legend in the making.”
“And were they impressed?”
Beau smiled, recalling the satisfied sighs and pleased expressions of the Hope Creek Resort guests who’d surrounded the outdoor table laden with raw oysters. “Suitably so. They contributed more than a promising financial start to our little company. Should be enough to impress the most reluctant when we pitch our next expansion.”
She grinned slow. “Bless their sweet little wallets.”
They laughed, then fell silent. Viv resumed staring at the sky, and Beau followed her gaze to the low branches that twisted together overhead. Stars peeked between the gnarled limbs, and soon the hectic beat of music inside Lou’s Lagoon transitioned into a soft, steady tune.
“She came out here a lot,” Viv whispered reluctantly, her words quiet. “To just”—her hand holding the cigarette tilted slightly—“float away. Be numb.”
“Your mom?”
She nodded, then grew quiet again.
He tapped an empty shot glass with his knuckle. “This won’t fix it, Viv.”
A humorless laugh escaped her. “No. It most definitely won’t.”
“I’m worried about you.” He pinched the rim of one shot glass and spun it slowly between his fingertips. “And I’m not the only one.”
All trace of amusement drained from her face. She sat up, propped her elbows on the table, and brought her face farther into the light. Her features were identical to Kit’s, her eyes the same dark shade, but rather than warm, expressive depths, they remained cool and guarded. The faint lines beside Viv’s mouth had deepened with grief, and exhaustion suffused her expression. He’d bet good money she hadn’t eaten anything since he last saw her. She’d been running on cigarettes and whiskey for the past couple of days, most likely.
But it was the cynicism simmering beneath the surface that concerned him most. Every day for the past few months, long before Sylvie’s death, it had seemed as though her caring demeanor—and generous nature—hardened a bit more.
“I hate when you look at me like that.”
Beau frowned. “Like what?”
“Like you’re looking for someone else.” Her mouth drew into a tight line as she examined his expression. “Kit’s back, isn’t she?”
