Page 35 of Seas the Dating Coach

“Honey, angel. What I gotta do? I’ll do anything,” he pleads, moving forward.

“I’d kick them out before they get to the next part if I were you.” Carol’s tone is sharp with warning.

Not wanting to know whatthe next partentails, I extend my palm, pinning the woman with a stare. “Please exit the building.”

Her glittered fingernails slapThe Very Hungry Caterpillarinto my hand before she runs toward the man she’d just tried to maim. When she jumps and twines her legs around the man’s torso, I get an idea of what’s coming.

“Outside, please!”

They listen but while devouring each other like starving piranhas. A nearby mother attempts to cover the eyes of her two children while the amorous couple slams into the side of the automatic door before finally stumbling out.

I set the board book on the circulation desktop. “Who in the name of—”

“Karen and Todd,” Carol cuts me off with a disapproving huff. “You’d think since they’re both pushing fifty, they’d know better. Usually, they keep their antics tethered to the bar, but there must be some serious tumbleweeds in the romance department if they felt the need to have it out at the library.”

Bile flicks the back of my throat at her colorful description, but Carol simply shrugs. “Marriage is long and hard. You’ve got to spice things up from time to time.”

When all I can manage is to blink, a slow smile curls her mouth, causing the hairs on my neck to stand on end. “I can’t believe I’ve bested Mr. Charm. What? No witty retort? No appeasing sentence to smooth things over?”

“Excuse me?” Even when I’m saying the words, I straighten my spine, even my facial expression, and mentally run through the last few seconds to see exactly where I let my veneer lapse.

Carol waves me off. “Never mind about that. What did you think about my fundraising idea?”

The rest of the day continues with the same strange trajectory. A patron comes in looking for a lost wetsuit, which, oddly, Patricia had set aside for him last week. Two misguided seagulls find their way into the stacks, and it requires the five of us on staff to coax them outside with croutons from my lunch. A pair of teens decides to use the staircase as a rehearsal space for the balcony scene fromRomeo and Juliet, but I can’t bring myself to stop them because 1) it’s literary related, and 2) their portrayal is surprisingly moving.

By the time I’m wrapping my hands for my evening boxing class, I give myself a mental high-five for keeping it together, especially since, every three seconds, I’m distracted by the memory of Vivian’s breathy sigh against my mouth, or the feel of her curls draped over the back of my hand, or how her incredible magnolia-coffee scent seemed to seep into my skin.

“Dude.” A man with curly brown hair playfully knocks me in the shoulder with his gloved hand. “I heard you got our Vivianto laugh last night. Usually, I’m the only one who can make her laugh in public. I’m impressed.”

My exhausted brain can’t recall this man’s name. I’ve been memorizing the names of the other gym members when the owner yells at them—something she’s fond of doing. We’ve been partnered up before, but this is the first time he’s spoken to me. What’s his name? Nathan? Niel?

“Noah! Less chit-chat, more hitting. You should already be on your bag.” Geneva’s sleek pony-tail swings as she turns to harass two other attendees of the popular boxing class.

Noah chuckles. “She yells at me almost as much as my ex does when I try to buy a cup of coffee. It’s not my fault that Brynn’s is the only shop in town, and sometimes I want something nicer than the road tar they brew at the fire station.”

All the pieces fall into place. Noah. As in Brynn’s ex, the former flamed-out professional baseball player turned local firefighter whom Vivian affectionately calls her long-lost brother-in-law.

“That’s something we have in common.”

Noah’s eyebrows rise a second before his shoulders bounce in a casual shrug, lifting the WBFD logo on his ocean-blue t-shirt. “Makes sense she’d lay into you.” He begins to warm up on the bag. “She warned us you were one ofthosemainlanders weeks ago.”

A spiny black sea anemone pricks at my temple. “It was Brynn who told everyone to give me the cold shoulder?”

Noah nods to the bag, placing a few well-targeted hits dead center. “She’s incredibly protective not only of Vivian, but this town.”

I slip on my gloves, switching spots with Noah as he holds the bag. “You’d think she’d get to know me before making a judgment.”

Noah chuckles, bracing punches that are much too hard for a simple warm-up. “Brynn shoots first and apologizes later.Actually”—his gaze drifts to the exposed metal cross-beams above us—“she isn’t big on apologizing either.”

“Sounds like a real peach.”

“Careful.” Noah’s sharp tone draws my attention.

The fire in his gaze reminds me that I never speak ill of anyone in public, especially when I don’t know everyone’s alliances.

Suffice it to say, I might as well be an island here.

“Sorry, man.”

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