I set my paper down and lean back in my chair. “What do you need, Palmer?” I fold my arms over my chest.
She rests her cast on the table and leans forward. “Dr. Beau . . . he’s . . . the Beau.”
Ah, she figured out who Beau was at her appointment this morning.
“Yes, that’s correct,” I answer casually, even though everybody on the island knows how much Palmer crushed on the guy back in high school. Not sure she knows that I know, but her feelings were evident just from one look through her yearbook.
“Did you know this last night? That he was a doctor here on Marina Island?”
“I did. You know, since his sister is my assistant and all. We do occasionally talk about our siblings.”
“How is he a doctor? I didn’t even know he wanted to be a doctor. I thought it took forever to get a medical degree. Doesn’t he have, like, eleven more years in medical school?” She throws her arms up in the air.
“Fast-tracked. Top of his class. Took him nine years to complete everything, including residency. He studied with Dr. Weazleton as well and then took over the practice and moved the office to where it is now. I’m surprised Mom and Dad never told you.”
“No one said anything. And, uh, can we talk about how different he looks? I mean, he’s all beefy and handsome with his manly man features.” I raise a brow at her. “And his hands were soft and large and . . . God, Ford, you have no idea the kind of embarrassment I put myself through this morning.”
“This morning?” I ask, surprised. “Can’t be any worse than last night.”
Her eyes widen. “What the hell did I do last night? Oh, dear God, I didn’t try to lick him, did I?”
I wince. “Is that something you normally do? Lick men?”
She rolls her eyes. “Just once, when I was in Italy. The chef who made me the most amazing pizza of my life smelled like the pepperoni he used, and for some reason I got caught up in the scent and ended up licking his arm. It was not my finest moment, I will admit that, but I found something out about myself. I tend to lick people that I think smell good, and Dr. Beau smelled heavenly. Oh God, did I lick him?”
“There was no licking—”
“Thank God for that—”
“But you did attempt to put your finger in his chin dimple.” Her mouth falls open. “Don’t worry, I spared you from doing such a thing. From the look on your face, the chin dimple was not mentioned.”
“It was not.” She groans. “Why, why did this happen to me?”
“I think it was a lethal combination of the denial train you’re on and your choice to indulge in a copious amount of wine.” When she slouches in her chair, I say, “I think I should also tell you that you told him he looks like he belongs in GQ.”
She rubs her hand carefully over her forehead, avoiding her butterfly bandage. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Nope. It happened.”
She shakes her head. “This is exactly why I never come back here—the past haunts me.”
“How is the past haunting you?” I ask. “If anything, it’s more the present that’s ruining things.”
“You don’t get it.” Palmer stands from her chair. “There’s history with Beau.”
“Because he saved you from the fire at Watchful Wanderers?”
“That’s not even a blip on my radar when it comes to Beau. Also, when did he become so . . . so . . .”
“GQ?” I tease.
“Yes.” She flings her good arm to the ceiling. “God, he was all kinds of handsome in that lab coat. I just wanted to tear at it and bury my—”
“Hey, slow down. I don’t need the details about exactly what you want to do to Dr. Beau, but I do want to know what you’re keeping from me.”
She straightens. “What do you mean? I’m not keeping anything from you. Why would you say that?”
“The panic in your voice isn’t telling at all.” When she doesn’t say anything, I sigh. “You said the fire is barely a blip, that there’s history with Beau. What history, exactly?”
“Oh, that.” She swallows hard and walks over to the window. “Just some other history.” She spins on her heel. “Did you know Cooper ordered a butterscotch cake for the party? I rectified that decision.”
“You’re sidestepping. What are you not telling me?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” She walks toward my door but then pauses and points at the mock-ups near the fireplace. “What are those?”