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“Which bed?” Viv, seated opposite Beau, propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward.
Beau shrugged. “I don’t know. It was a ways out. Almost to the opposite end of the creek. Kit said your mom used to love it there.”
“It was huge, too,” Cal said, thumping his glass, now empty, back onto the table. “Those oysters, Pop.” He glanced at Nate. “They were at least an inch bigger than any we’ve ever sifted out of a bucket. And the taste . . .” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’ve never had one as good.”
Beau smiled and rested his chin in his hand. His finger drifted across his lower lip at the memory of Kit’s kiss. The way her soft mouth had pressed against his, her sweet taste on his tongue . . . He’d never had a better first kiss.
Well . . . He bit his nail, his neck heating. That was until Royal came stomping out of the house like a mad bull and warned him off.
“Never had one as good, huh?” Nate narrowed his eyes on Beau’s face. “You either?”
Beau rubbed his chin, then took a swig of tea from his own glass. “I don’t know that I’d say that, but the harvest was impressive.”
“Still in clusters, though?” Nate asked.
Beau nodded. “They were flavorful, but not as briny or rich as ours, and the consistency in shape and size wasn’t there, of course. I think the experience of the harvest is what made the most impression on Cal, not necessarily the oysters themselves.”
“The experience, you say?” Viv’s face flushed. “We work the creek and handle oysters every day.”
“But not like they do.” Cal grinned. A fresh set of freckles was scattered across the bridge of his nose, and a sleepy satisfaction resided in his heavy-lidded gaze. “Wasn’t anybody out there where Kit took us. No one but us. No cages, no measuring, no weighing. It was muddy and stinky and messy and . . . and . . .”
“Fun.” Beau reached over and ruffled Cal’s hair, the sheer look of joy on his face warming Beau’s chest. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”
Cal smiled. “Yeah. Especially the roasting part.” He smiled at Nate. “They don’t use pots and propane, Pop. They stack concrete blocks into a firepit, build a fire, and throw a piece of sheet metal on it. And they use a sh—”
“Shovel to scoop the suckers off when they’re done, right?” Viv asked. “That’s the old-school way of doing things. My dad’s done it that way for as long as I can remember.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it old school,” Beau said quietly, recalling the excitement in Cal’s and Mackey’s eyes as Royal had tossed a batch of oysters on the hot sheet of metal, counted the minutes as they’d steamed, then shoveled them hot onto a wooden table for shucking. “It’s just . . . traditional.”
“And fun,” Cal said before plucking an ice cube from his glass and plopping it in his mouth.
“There’s something to be said for tradition,” Beau continued, avoiding Nate’s steady gaze. “Some things can’t rival it.” He glanced at Cal’s sleepy, sun-kissed face and smiled. “It’s been a long time since I’ve shoveled hot oysters fresh off a fire. Everyone had a good time.”
“Even my dad?” Viv narrowed her eyes. “He didn’t give you grief for stepping on his property?”
Beau hesitated, recalling the glares Royal had shot him as they’d roasted oysters over the fire. If Royal had disapproved of him before, he sure hadn’t developed a newfound fondness for him after stumbling upon Beau kissing his daughter. But then again, Royal hadn’t thrown him off his property, either.
“He tolerated me.”
“Why?”
Beau held Viv’s gaze, the suspicious gleam in her eyes making him shift uncomfortably in his chair. “For Kit’s sake, I guess.”
A muscle ticked in her jaw. “All this talk of tradition,” she said quietly. “One morning on the creek and less than twenty-four hours, huh? That’s all it took for her to suck you right on in.”
Nate cleared his throat. “It’s getting late. Come on, Cal. Time to call it a night.”
Cal sucked his teeth. “But tomorrow’s Sunday.”
“Yep.” Nate stood, clamped his hands on Cal’s shoulders, and pulled him to his feet. “The day of rest, which means you should be in bed, resting.”
Cal groaned but put his empty glass in the sink and paused to hug Beau on his way out of the kitchen. “Thanks for today, Dad.”
Beau squeezed him tight before releasing him. “You’re welcome.”
As Cal left, he said over his shoulder, “Good night, Viv.”
“Night, kid.” Viv watched Cal walk down the hall and out of sight, then looked down and studied her nails. “How was Mackey doing?”
