Page 5 of Somewhere You Belong

Luckily, it’s not very busy yet, which gives us a little bit of time to stock the front before the rush begins, and plenty of time for me to give my brother shit for his unrequited crush.

Astrid comes over, brushing her bangs from her eyes with her forearm. “Everything okay, Dallas? What’s wrong with Penn?”

“What’snotwrong with Penn?”

She rolls her eyes. “I swear you two fight more than you get along.”

“Mostly.”

She sets her tray down on the counter and moves to the computer to input an order. “We still have fish and chips, right?”

“Yeah, plenty. Harold made quite the catch this morning, so we should be good for a few days at least.” Harold is a long-time Carrington Cove resident that brings in fresh fish for all of the local businesses, especially mine. And his luck today means more money in both of our pockets.

She nods. “Perfect.”

My eyes carry over Catch & Release, my bar and restaurant that has been prospering over the past four years, the windows in the front of the establishment offering a breathtaking view of the cove that is our town’s namesake, which draws in tourists from the beginning of spring through the end of fall.

After leaving the Marines and returning home twelve years later, I wanted something that I could pour my heart and soul into, a place that would keep me busy and leave me with little time to think since my mind loves to torment me if left to its own devices.

Bill, the former owner, was looking to sell and retire around that time, so I jumped on the opportunity. I had no idea how to run a restaurant or bar, but I picked it up quickly and have kept this place thriving since I took over. Although an established clientele and the booming tourism in Carrington Cove definitely helps too.

Catch & Release is the quintessential coastal bar, everything inside decorated in a nautical theme—fishnets hanging from the walls with starfish and seashells scattered throughout, old anchors mounted to the walls’ wooden slats, and navy-blue booths and padded chairs at each of the dark wooden tables. Steel lamps hang above each table and the bar is edged in the same steel, lining the surface made of reclaimed wood.

It’s rustic and familiar, perfectly capturing the essence of our town in the décor and the hospitality we offer, an experience that keeps people coming back for more.

Penn returns from the back of the restaurant a few minutes later, carrying cases of beer and liquor.

“Is Dallas giving you shit again?” Astrid asks when she returns from her table, leaning against the bar as she smiles at my younger brother.

Penn just stares at her, much like he does any time the woman is in his view. I’m sure even a kindergartener could pick up on his crush. Thankfully, he finds his voice quickly. “When is he not?” he grunts as he moves around her.

Astrid shakes her head at us and then steps to the soda fountain to fill drinks. “You two are so much alike sometimes that it’s frightening.” She pushes glasses against the metal triggers as soda fills each one up.

“I take offense to that,” I counter, slapping my rag on the bar.

“Yeah, so do I,” Penn adds.

Astrid glares at us over her shoulder. “I do not have time to referee you two today. I have money to make, and you’re both in my way.” She stands in front of us, a tray full of beverages filled and waiting to be delivered, her eyebrow arched as she waits for us to move.

It’s a look I’ve also seen our mother give us a time or two and Astrid nails it flawlessly.

Penn and I part and let her by.

“Her children must be downright terrified of her,” I say jokingly.

“She’s a good mom,” Penn replies under his breath, restocking the bar.

I slap my hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I don’t have time for you to mope tonight, all right? We have that reservation of twenty people coming in for a birthday party, and we’re down a server. Sally called out.”

Penn shoves me off. “I’m not moping.”

“Ha. Okay.” I decide to drop it. There’s no use in poking that bear anymore, or he won’t be any use to me at the bar tonight.

It’s a Friday night and that always means business will be good. Between people coming in for the fresh fish and chips special, celebrating the end of another work week with a drink or two, or tourists arriving for the weekend, there will be no slowing down until the bar shuts down in the wee hours of the morning.

It’s nights like this that make me grateful I live above the restaurant in the small apartment the previous owner built when he bought the building. It’s perfect for a single guy like me and makes the commute to and from work a breeze. However, sometimes I feel like I never leave this building, but hopefully that will change soon.

Buying a house is in my future plans—I’m just waiting for the right hand to be dealt my way.

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