Page 129 of Square Deal

“What’s for lunch?” I asked.

“Frozen peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” Hannah trembled in giddy pleasure.

If I hadn’t been holding her hand, she would have taken off running down the beach.

I laughed. “Seriously? Maddie and Luca were in charge of the food and they madesandwiches?” I saw signs all over the place that said no grilling on the beach, but I thought between the two of them, they’d have some kind of five-star box lunches. Maybe a gazpacho, some canapés, and that cold crab and avocado salad Luca made in the summer. My stomach rumbled at the thought.

“Come on, fancy pants,” Hannah said, tugging on my hand and dragging me up the beach. “Let me indoctrinate you in the ways of beach day delicacies.”

I was a changed man. Frozen PB & Js were heaven. It was the perfect cool down. Carbs and protein for energy, a little sweetness from the jelly, and the crunchy peanut butter gave it a nice texture. I’d have to keep these stocked in my freezer in the city. Maddie cracked open a cooler and started handing out plastic juice pouches.

“I’m good,” I said. I’d rather stick with water than fake fruit punch.

Maddie grinned and shoved it into my hand. “Trust me. You’ll want it.”

Hannah nodded and stabbed the thin plastic straw into her pouch.

I shrugged. When in Rome, right?

I threaded the straw through the tiny hole and took a sip. Sputtering at the shock, I choked out, “Fuck, Mad—warn a guy next time.”

She laughed and plopped down beside Luca. “Told you you’d want it.”

I looked over at the sign that strictly prohibited alcohol on thebeach. The juice pouches were, by my guess, mostly tequila with a bit of fruit punch.

“Scissors, flat irons, and a funnel,” Hannah grinned. “No one’s the wiser.”

Mel shot a pointed glare at Steve and Chase. “And two cops who know that snitches get stitches.”

They raised their hands in surrender.

Kristin’s brother made a move for the cooler full of contraband adult beverages.

Steve glared at him. “Logan, don’t you even think about touching that cooler until you’re twenty-one.”

He grumbled something that sounded a lot like, “fuckin’ killjoy,” and retreated, grabbing a can of Coke from one of the other coolers.

The girls started a cut-throat cornhole tournament. Steve, Chase, and Kristin’s youngest brother, Hunter, set up a game of bocce ball while Erica prepared to nurse Aly.

I wasn’t going to stick around for that.

I finished off a bottle of water and tossed it in the garbage bag tied to the tent pole.

“Mr. Lawson?”

I turned around to find Kristin’s brother, Logan, a few feet away.

“What, uh, what’s up?”

“Can I ask you something?” he said awkwardly.

I was shit interacting with kids. I was even worse at talking to kids. But he looked closer to adulthood, so fuck it—I was going to treat him like a damn adult.

I nodded and pretended like I was in a suit, walking through the headquarters of Lawson International instead of drinking spiked Capri Suns on the beach.

“Walk with me,” I said with the authoritative voice I used at work.

Logan seemed to respond to that. He picked up his feet and matched my stride as we headed for the edge of the water.

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