“Not usually. That would be your fault,” he said, teasing her.
“I don’t think so. I’ll take the blame for the photo, but those people care about you and your family. You have an untapped support system and you don’t even know it.”
There was a hint of wistfulness in her tone. With the food in one hand, he pulled her close with the other, tucking his arm around her shoulder. “Maybe.”
But he wasn’t thinking about his own support system. Even without the town—and she was probably right there, his family was well-liked—he had his siblings, his parents, even Ollie. Who did Presley Ayers have?
Twenty-Six
Strolling through Beckett’s hometown was more fun than she had expected. The street kiosks had shut down for the night, but people, mostly younger ones, were still hanging out. She’d been to beachside towns before, but this one felt different. Like a hidden cove of magic. Or maybe she felt that way because of the man beside her.
“What’s it like where you live?” Beckett asked. He kept his arm around her shoulder while she held the hand that hung down.
It was a very couple-like position, and Presley didn’t want to think too much about how right it felt.
“I live close to the hotel. About a fifteen-minute walk. My apartment is on the seventh floor of a fourteen-story building. It’s your typical downtown neighborhood. Starbucks on every corner, great shopping close by. It’s a lot busier than this. I can’t believe how quiet the streets are. There’s no traffic.”
“When you can walk to everything you need, it tends to cut down on that,” Beckett said.
They’d reached the end of the main strip. They turned left, walking away from the water. Most of the homes were one and two stories, but Beckett pointed out that some of them, like his, had been converted into apartment units.
“That’s a great way to keep the character of the town but address the growing population,” Presley said.
When she looked up at him, he was grinning down at her.
“What?”
He shook his head, kissed her quick. “Nothing. I just like the way you talk.”
She laughed. That was a new one.
They walked in comfortable silence along a quiet, tree-lined street. Gulls carried on in the distance. The air had cooled but she was comfortable in her light sweater. It felt like time moved in slow motion here.
Beckett stopped at a two-story that resembled the rest of the street. A black wrought iron gate sat closed between two cement-block pillars. He unlatched the gate, held it open.
“I’m second floor, left,” he said.
He used his key in one of the building’s double doors, letting her precede him again. The house opened into a small foyer with stairs directly in front of them. There were two apartments on the lower level and two on the second. They took the stairs to his place. Before they got inside, the door across the hall opened.
“You’re back sooner than usual,” his neighbor said. Tall and thin with messy red hair, he stared at Beckett. “Is everything all right?”
Beckett smiled at him. “Everything is fine, Adam. I wanted to show my friend Presley where I live. Presley, this is Adam.”
Adam said hello, his lips quirking in an almost smile. “You posted on Instagram and made Beckett famous.”
Presley laughed. “I think famous is a bit of a stretch but I did get him some attention by accident. It’s nice to meet you, Adam.”
He nodded his head, his hand on the doorknob. “I’m going in now. We’ll still go to Crinkle’s?”
Beckett smiled even though Adam didn’t look at him. “Just like we usually do. Have a good night, okay?”
Adam nodded once. “Okay.” He let himself into the apartment and shut the door.
Beckett unlocked his door. “Adam’s twenty-two. He’s been living on his own for a long time now. His parents died in a car accident, so it forced him to grow up sooner than he should have.”
“Oh, that’s terrible.” She should phone her parents. Her mother had been texting, but Presley was too in her own head right now to dealwith her mom’s thoughts on her breaking up with Emmett, visiting a fishing lodge, and even taking a vacation.
Beckett nodded. “He likes routine.”
