Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
We park at the Seabreeze before walking over to the bay behind it, my hand in Graham’s.
While I’d planned to change and pack a beach bag before heading over, we ended up taking a bit too long to get out on the road and only had time to get Graham a change of clothes at his place and grab my bag.
Thankfully, I’d brought about three different changes of clothes because I’m an over-packer, so it worked out just fine.
I had enough time to run inside, grab a bag, some towels, and waters before making our way to the beach behind the Seabreeze.
Said bag is now looped over Graham’s shoulder, something he insisted on holding for me, and something I know Grant will appreciate even if he’s inevitably going to hate that I’m dating my boss.
And I am.
I am dating Graham Hawthorne. Every time I think about that fact, it makes me a little bit giddy, and I have to swallow the happiness down.
“This is a terrible idea,” he murmurs when we round the corner and see the large group on the beach of the bay behind the Seabreeze.
It’s my second-favorite beach down the shore, second only to the state park ten minutes from Seaside Point. It’s where, most often, if we’re craving a day in the sand, we meet up to avoid tourists.
“It’s a great idea. A Band-Aid, rip it off,” I tell him, squeezing his hand.
“Why does meeting your friends have to be painful?”
“You already met them. Stop being dramatic.”
His steps falter, and I glace over my shoulder to find he’s staring at me with a thick eyebrow raised.
“Did you just call me dramatic?”
I grin.
“Yes, now smile and stop looking like I brought you here at gunpoint. Hey, Claire,” I say, waving at my best friend, who is watching us approach with rapt attention. She’s sitting in Miles’ lap in one of the mismatched Adirondack chairs Benny keeps back here, a smile playing on her lips.
“How was the festival?”
“Amazing,” I say.
“I can see that,” Lainey says, barely hiding a smile of her own.
“Which part was better, the concert, or when Graham—” Claire starts.
“Okay, none of that. Let’s get this over with.
Yes, Graham and I are dating. No, I will not give anyone any details here,” I direct that specifically to Claire, who pouts while Miles lets out a laugh.
My brother is standing with his arms crossed on his chest, dark sunglasses perched on his nose, a scowl on his face.
“And you, I don’t want to hear anything from you.
You might act like my dad, but you’re not.
Don’t make this weird. None of you make this weird, okay? ”
I expect an argument or at least some kind of snide remark, but I don’t. Instead, Benny, Lainey’s dad, takes out the pipe he pretends to smoke but really just blows bubbles with, and waves it around.
“Well, you heard the girl,” he says. “Everyone skedaddle. Let the boy breathe before we give him the third degree.” He directs his look to me, “But June, girl, you know just as well as I do, the kid’s gonna get the third degree at some point.”
“Did he just call me a kid?” Graham asks low.
“You get used to it,’ I say, then pull him onto the sand where I kick off my shoes. “You can set the bag down over there,” I say, tipping my chin. “But can you get me the sunscreen?”
“Here we go,” Lainey grumbles, and I snap my head to her. She’s in a beach chair, her fair skin complemented by a dark red bathing suit, and, if I know my best friend, she’s not wearing any sunscreen, despite definitely needing it.
“Lainey, I know for some reason you love getting sunburned like, once a week, but some of us want to live to be a hundred and three.”
Graham hands me the sunscreen, and I take off my cover-up, smearing the white stuff around my arms until it blends in.
“A hundred and three?” Graham asks, a bit alarmed, and I just smile.
“Yeah, I think that sounds like a good number.”
“That means you’ll have to live to…what?” Sutton asks, looking at Graham. “One hundred and eleven?” A look of horror crosses Graham’s face. “You wouldn’t want to leave poor June to be alone.”
I look to the sky and groan.
“Sutton! Stop! I told you guys to be cool! You can’t scare him this fast; we’ve only been together for a day!”
“And a month, if you count the time you guys fucked each other’s brains out before you—” Claire starts.
“LA LA LA,” I nearly scream, glaring at Claire as I glance at my brother. He’s talking to Deck, and I pray to all that’s good in the world he didn’t hear. “I said no details!”
“You said no asking for details. I already knew those.” I glare at her and her love of loopholes.
“How are we friends?” I ask, moving to my legs.
“We’re not. We’re best friends. There’s a lot more room for being obnoxious when you’re best friends.
” I roll my eyes, but I don’t argue. She’s right: best friends are basically sisters you choose for yourself, and from my understanding, sisters are supposed to be the most beloved and most irritating people on the planet.
With a sigh, I turn to Graham, deciding to just move past it.
“Shirt off. Let me put sunscreen on you so you can live to be a hundred and eleven,” I say, fighting back a smile. Lainey fails, a loud laugh leaving her lips, but it turns into a choked cough as Graham takes off his shirt.
Well, that’s one way to shut them up.
“Oh my god,” Claire says.
“I know,” I respond, almost begrudgingly, because I know the magnificent hotness that is Graham without his shirt on. Slowly, I start spreading sunscreen on his back.
“But…how?” Lainey asks in a breath.
“No idea. It’s wild, right?”
“Do you think Rowan is like this?” Sutton asks, seemingly half-alarmed and half intrigued, before she blinks and shakes her head with disgust. “Actually, no. I don’t want to know. I wouldn’t be able to work with him anymore.”
I finish rubbing sunscreen into his back and hand him the bottle to do mine.
“Maybe Lainey should do it. I think I should—” Graham starts, looking over his shoulder, concerned, before moving to step away, but Sutton lifts her hands, and he halts in place.
“No,” she says. “Stay there, don’t move. Another five seconds. Actually…” She turns to me. “Do you have paper?”
“Absolutely not. That’s enough for that.” I take the sunscreen back and hand it to Lainey, who begrudgingly stands to lotion me.
“Draw him. I beg,” Claire says, hands clasped before her, standing from where she’s sitting.
Miles shakes his head and sighs before standing as well. “Wanna get a beer? Save you from all of…this?”
Graham looks from Miles to my friends, then back, and nods.
“Yes, please.”
Miles looks to me with a solemn nod. “I’ll make sure everyone plays nice.”
“Please and thank you! I’ll owe you if we make it out of here in one piece!”
He salutes me, and I laugh before turning to the girls.
“Okay, now tell me everything,” Sutton says low, eyes eager as she cracks open a drink for me and she hands it over. I take a long chug, needing the courage to survive the next hour.
Then I tell my best friends everything.
The afternoon is great. Perfect, even, with everybody getting along and smiling and joking. At some point, Miles gets a football and starts tossing it with Graham, which is when we learn that his high school team went to States when he was a kid and that he was the quarterback.
“Oh, I need those pictures,” I say low. “Do you have them?”
“No way,” Graham says, not even bothering to look at me. “They’re buried deep where you’re never going to find them.”
“That’s probably what June said last night,” Claire says, and Graham chokes, missing the ball Deck threw his way.
“Jesus, fuck, Claire, can you not?” Grant groans, turning a bit green. “I’m trying to be cool, but it’s really hard.”
“Also, what she—” Thankfully, Miles slams his hand on Claire’s mouth, muffling her words. I’m sure he’s going to get an earful later from her, but I’m grateful.
“Are they buried because you’re so old and they didn’t have technology back then?” I ask, trying to shift the focus.
“He’s what, a year older than me?” Grant says, oddly and unexpectedly, sticking up for Graham.
I knew they would eventually get along, since they are very similar in both personality and work ethic, but this came sooner than expected.
Though I suppose that, with this crew being very much boys-versus-girls, another person on his team would be a relief.
“Exactly. Old.” Lainey says deadpan. I really need to figure out what’s going on there.
“Tomorrow I’ll get Josie on it. If anyone can find them, she can,” Sutton says.
“I’m so intrigued by this woman. A secret spy, apparently hot as shit, nailed down Rowan…I need to meet her. I think I want to be her when I grow up,” Claire says.
“She’ll be here with Rowan early next week,” Graham says.
“Really?” I ask, clasping my hands together.
I’ve heard a lot about Josie, the undercover PI who works for a super-secret firm that you can’t just contact, but you have to know people who know people.
They call her the Maneater because she’s so hot and a huge flirt, and she has a personal skill for getting men to tell her whatever information she needs to solve a case.
She met Rowan last year while undercover as a vacationer at the Keys location to figure out who was sabotaging it.
“Yeah, he’ll be here Monday after the grand opening.”
“How are you feeling about that?” Grant asks, and Graham shrugs.
“Opening day is different for each location, but I fully anticipate at least a few hiccups.”
I knock on the wood table, a long, picnic-style table built years ago after our crew kept on growing.
It could probably fit ten more people, and a part of me has always pictured Lainey and me sitting here with our partners and our kids when we’re older, carrying on the tradition of summers behind the Seabreeze.
“Don’t jinx it!” I say, and he puts an arm around me, pulling me into his side and pressing his lips to my hair.
“Not jinxing it. It’s my job to prepare for anything.”
I lift an eyebrow at him.
“Who’s superstitious now?” I ask, and he smiles at me. My own melts off my face with Claire’s words, though.
“Since we’re talking about work stuff, how’s the proposal coming?”
My entire body stills.
“Claire—”
“What proposal?” Graham asks.
”Nothing, I—” I start again, but Claire cuts me off.
“We want June to bid on the mural project.”
Graham nods, and my jaw tightens.
“Oh, the one that bitch is doing?”
Grant chokes on a chip, letting out a loud laugh.
“I forgot you met Cecelia! Yes, her. I want June to beat her ass, not only because June is a million times more talented, but because I don’t want that bitch to have anything good in her life.
Wouldn’t it be absolutely amazing to be able to shove that in her face?
” Claire asks, but I have a counterargument, one I’ve been weighing for a while and, in my humble opinion, is a solid one.
“And would it not be terribly embarrassing if she were to get it instead of me?” I ask, but Lainey shakes her head.
“No, because she won’t. She might have her dad voting for her, but he’s the only one. You’re just a big fat scaredy cat who’s afraid of rejection.”
“I am not!” I argue like a child, but when Graham reaches out under the table, twining his fingers with mine, I wonder if maybe I am, and even he knows it. “Wasn’t me opening my shop enough?”
It sounds like a whine even to me.
“No,” Claire says, bluntly.
“I don’t even know how to make a proposal for something like that,” I sigh, even though in moments of bravery, I’ve found and begun replicating other successful mural bids.
“Lucky for you, you’re fucking a businessman.”
“Jesus Christ, Claire, can you chill?” Grant asks, groaning and putting a hand over his ears.
“Oh, come on. Look at them. She’s hot. He’s hot. If they weren’t fucking, I’d be concerned.”
“I’m concerned that you feel the deep need to remind me of that every other moment.”
Claire grins wide and I know what’s coming next.
“I’m sure she felt the deep—”
“Okay, okay, enough,” Lainey says, putting all of us out of our misery now. “Let’s stop before we completely scare Graham off. What I think Claire was trying to say is that Graham probably knows how to put a great business plan together, so June has no excuse not to follow through.”
“I’m more than happy to help. You know I think your art is fantastic,” Graham says. “I was just telling her I want her to do a mural at Daytrip.”
I bite my lip. “It’s really not—”
“I actually think moving into murals is a good idea,” Grant says, and I snap my head toward him.
“You do?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, your art business is going pretty well. It makes sense to do so a large contract. You could garner more interest in your business, and it would essentially be free advertising.”
A familiar nervous energy churns in my gut.
“Yeah, but art is…art is just a hobby.”
He looks at me oddly, reading my face, and my stomach tightens, unsure of what he’s going to say, but before he can speak, a little bit of luck interrupts.
“A ladybug!” I call when the red and black beetle lands on my arm. “A ladybug!”
“Let me guess, it’s good luck.” Grant says, utter exhaustion in the word. I glare at my brother, but he just grins, immune to my laser eyes.
“My luck has been treating me very well thus far, thank you very much.” Graham’s hand tightens in mine, and I look at him, smiling.
“I think this means you should submit your proposal,” Graham says, putting a hand on my thigh.
I glare at him.
“That is not what it means.” I roll my eyes, then turn my attention to the bug.
“You found a four-leaf clover and made your shop live. This is basically the same thing.”
I scrunch my nose but don’t respond.
“You did that?” Claire asks, a mix of irritation and shock on her face.
“Maybe?” Graham says, rightfully hesitant.
“I’d been trying to get her to open that shop for years. One day, it’s live, and she’s selling prints out of nowhere. You’re telling me all it took was a hot guy?” I shrug, grinning at my friend.
“A hot guy, a four-leaf clover, and a pep talk.”
“Well, happy you’re here, then, Graham. You’re good for our girl.” Graham looks at me, smiling.
“She’s even better for me.”