Page 73 of Plotting Summer

“Dad’s in line. I told him to get you a plate so you can sit down.”

“Where’s Grandpa? I thought he was coming.”

“He called to say that, with all the people headed to Sunset Harbor, the parking garage is full and he has to find somewhere else to park. He’ll be here soon, though.”

Tristan’s hands go to the back of the chair like he’s about to pull it out to sit, but he pauses. “You know what? I’ll go keep Dad company.”

“You don’t need to, sweetie.” Joy points to the open seat nearest me.

It’s apparent Tristan’s trying not to smile, though I’m not sure if it’s at his mom’s blatant intentions or that within the first few minutes of him getting here, our attempts to limit our time together today are already being foiled. At this rate, it’s going to be a very long day.

“I’ve actually been meaning to ask him⁠—”

“Sit,” she says, her voice firmer than before. I try not to laugh at how fast he drops into the seat next to me. Mama Joy still holds sway over him, and it’s absolutely adorable.

When Joy turns her attention to Grandma, Tristan leans in. “Sorry, she’s a stubborn one.”

“It’s fine. We’re just old neighbors catching up over breakfast.” I take another bite of eggs, and I don’t miss how he eyes them.

“That’s definitely all that’s going on here.” His knee brushes against mine, and my heart rate increases tenfold. “Oops,” he says, sending me a cautious smile. “Habit.”

Which is exactly why we’ll do better keeping our distance today. It’s amazing that in such a brief amount of time, it’s becoming second-nature giving in to any impulse to touch him—to hold his hand or run my fingertips along his arm. To nestle my head against that place in his chest that feels like it was made for me. But this—sitting next to him but resisting his magnetic field that is constantly pulling me to him—is pure agony. “Do you want any?” I ask, pointing to my plate. “I’m not going to eat it all.”

“I can wait.”

I glance around to make sure no one is paying us any interest, then hand him my fork. “You know you want some.”

He leans in close. “I want something else more.”

My eyes widen, and he just laughs, taking the offered fork from me to scoop up a bite of eggs before starting on the pancake.

And again, I’m all too aware of how today is going to go. It might be easier if we just avoid each other completely. Otherwise, we might as well ride on a float in the parade and hold a poster that announces our relationship and that I’m Sunny Palmer to all of Sunset Harbor.

“Beau said he ran into the two of you the other night?” Joy says, pulling our attention back to her.

“Did he say anything else?” Tristan asks, sounding casual enough to hopefully not raise suspicion.

“No. Why?” Her smiling eyes move back and forth between us. “Was there more to say?”

Tristan and I look at each other, both of us trying to train our expressions. “Not really,” I say since he looks like he’s closer to laughter than I am.

“Did he tell you he was with Gemma Sawyer?” Tristan offers in an obvious attempt to redirect her interest.

Joy gives a lift of her eyebrows. “No, he didn’t.”

With the way Tristan shifts in his seat, I know he must feel bad for saying something, despite how Beau ratted us out. “It’s nothing. She’s just helping him with a work project,” he says.

Joy nods. “Well, it’s about time the Palmers and Sawyers figure out how to work together.”

“Hear, hear!” Grandma interjects, and Tala nods, bouncing Lucas on her knees.

Mark sets down a plate in front of Tristan and glances at the fork in his hand hovering over my plate. “Or maybe I should give this one to Capri,” he says, his gaze sliding to me. “Did you even get any of your own breakfast?”

“I wasn’t going to eat it all,” I say, reaching out to pat Tristan’s cheek playfully and ignoring the delightful way his whiskers tickle my palm. “And he just looked like such a sad, hungry little puppy. I couldn’t resist his begging eyes.”

Everyone laughs, including Tristan.

“That boy has always loved his food,” Mark says, moving to his seat with his own plate.