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Beau set his glass on a patio table and raised his hands, palms out, in front of him. “You want to put that shovel down, Royal? It’s for scooping oysters, not bashing in skulls.”
“It’ll do for, either.” Royal glanced at the patio doors, then glared at Beau. “What is it with you and my daughters? Every time I turn around, there you are, right at their elbows.”
Muffled laughter sounded, and Nate turned around, smiling. “I told you not to put yourself in the middle, son.”
Beau bristled. “And I told you, I’m tired of thetold you sos. I’m not interested in yourtold you—”
“You’re not interested in anything but my daughters,” Royal said, frowning. “Kit, especially. I done told you once, you better treat her with the respect she deserves.”
Beau lowered his hands and straightened. “I assure you I plan to do just that, sir.”
Royal sighed and rubbed his forehead.
Cal, mouth hanging open, glanced from Royal to Beau, his eyes wide.
“Aw, I didn’t mean to bring that up in front of your boy.” Royal gestured toward Cal. “I . . . er . . .” Royal cleared his throat. “I apologize for that, son. Your dad’s a . . .” He shot Beau a look. “Well, he’s a good man, so far as I can tell. Least he has been to Viv so far. Beau, I want to tell you and Nate both, while I got the gumption,” he muttered, “that I appreciate all you’ve done for her. Viv went through a hard enough time with Sylvie before her . . . passing. And that’s on top of the way we lost her.”
Beau, speechless, held Royal’s gaze. The older man’s praise stirred pride within him in much the same way that he imagined Viv must’ve felt when Royal had complimented her. It was unexpected and . . . heartfelt.
He smiled at Royal, saying warmly, “Thank you, R—”
“That’s enough of that.” Royal waved a hand in the air and walked back to the fire. He tugged on his gloves and removed the burlap, revealing a hot batch of freshly steamed oysters. “These are ready, if y’all care to dig in?”
Mackey and Cal were first, rushing over and piling their plates high. Nate and Beau followed and cracked into their first oysters with murmurs of thanks.
Beau moaned, savoring the flavor. “You steamed that one to perfection, Royal.”
Royal guffawed. “Don’t I know it?” He turned to Nate, who’d just tossed one back, too. “And yours?”
Nate smiled with satisfaction. “I’m not too prideful to admit when I’m wrong. Don’t know that all fire-steamed oysters are better than my pot-steamed ones, but I have to say yours are.”
Royal practically beamed. He propped his hands on his hips and glanced at Cal and Mackey, who were in the midst of cracking open their third and fourth oyster. “I ain’t above admitting that y’all grow dang fine oysters. And tonight’s been nice.” He smiled, warm and sincere. “The nicest night I’ve had in a long time.” He tossed a wry look in Nate’s direction. “Even with the arguing. Y’all have been good company, and it’s only right a man repay one kindness with another.” He looked at Beau, expression hesitant. “Roe season just opened up early, and I haven’t broke out my shrimping boat yet this season. If a storm sets in later this week, like they forecasting, I expect this is the best time to squeeze in a run. Y’all feel like taking a day off from farming tomorrow? Maybe ride out with me?”
Spend another day on the water with Kit? Laughing and sharing time with Cal, free of the daily grind? Beau smiled. “We’d love to.”
CHAPTER9
Kit tugged a pink short-sleeved T-shirt over her head, glanced at her reflection in the mirror on the dresser, then, frowning, yanked it back off.
“Hey, you ready yet?” Royal’s deep voice and heavy knock sounded on her closed bedroom door. “Mackey’s ’bout to have a fit to get going, they’ll be here any minute, and I need your help packing and loading the coolers on the boat. A body can’t do any sort of decent shrimping without cold soda or beer.”
“I’ll be out in just a minute,” she said, grabbing a blue T-shirt she’d discarded a half hour ago and tugging it back over her head. “I’m just brushing my hair.”
“Well, brush it faster. The shrimp don’t care what your hair looks like.”
No . . . but Beau might notice. Kit rolled her eyes and rubbed her temples. This was ridiculous. It was absolutely ridiculous to spend this much time choosing what to wear and agonizing over her appearance just to board a stinky shrimp boat and get blown around like a rag doll in the wind. She was a thirty-eight-year-old woman and above such vanity. Beau had already noticed her and must’ve been attracted to her—after all, he’d kissed her, for heaven’s sake—which made all this worry over an outfit even more ridiculous.
She jerked the T-shirt down over her waistband, stuffed her feet in her tennis shoes, and grabbed one of the light jackets Viv had left behind in the closet. No need to be late or keep Royal and Mackey waiting. They were going on a shrimping trip, not attending a gala.
Still, she slowed in front of the mirror once more and smoothed a hand over her ponytail before opening the door.
“Good night above, girl. You’d think I’d asked you to put on formal attire.”
Kit stopped and stared.
Royal stood in front of her, dressed in jeans and a neatly pressed T-shirt. His hair had been combed down, and his face was clean-shaven, revealing his handsome features.
“Dad . . . you . . .” She shook her head. “Your beard?”
