Page 21 of Seas the Dating Coach

Vivian’s gaping mouth sends a frisson of panic through me.

“What?”

“You messed up your hair.”

My forehead wrinkles. “So?”

“You’re always so perfectly coiffed. I didn’t think you…” Her fingertips drift upward before she visibly remembers herself and slides them into her pocket. “I mean, that’s helpful. For our practice.” She swallows. “Thank you.”

Ignoring the heartbeat deafening my ears, I nod. “Okay, good. Now let’s run this again.”

Vivian takes a deep breath, but before she can make a sound, another voice draws our attention. “Huh. Small world.”

Atticus is neither happy nor upset to see the two of us in his designated aisle—he’s completely befuddled. I snap to my full height, running my fingers through my hair. Gratitude blooms when my trusted product locks most of the strands back in place before I extend my hand to Atticus.

“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Finn Reynolds, the new branch manager.”

“Atticus Beckham,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

It takes all my willpower not to crush his hand. Even so, Atticus grimaces at the pressure of my handshake. I subdue the judgmental thoughts flooding my brain about men with weak handshakes and gesture to Vivian with an easy smile.

“Do you know Vivian Hutchinson?”

Atticus falters a minute but eventually extends his hand. “I’ve seen you around but can’t say we’ve officially met.”

The nearly inaudible noise Vivian makes when his hand slides into hers makes my vision blur at the edges. Unexpected anti-Atticus gore races through my mind, requiring a concentrated breath to clear it all. Maybe I should scale back on the boxing classes. I’ve never been the impulsively angry type before I arrived in this town.

“Happy to have made introductions.” I slide the book back into the stack to give myself something to do.

When the two of them wordlessly stare, I sigh internally and add, “Vivian owns the tailor shop beside Seabreeze Beans.”

“You do?”

Attaboy, Atticus. Welcome to the conversation.

Vivian blinks for a moment then gives an unsteady nod.

I don’t want to speak for her, but I also don’t want her to leave this interaction feeling defeated. If they don’t keep talking, Atticus will walk away like last time.

My insides revolt when sorrow splashes across the slight freckles dotting her nose, as if Vivian has drawn the same conclusion at the exact same time. The air in my lungs draws thin. Before the excruciatingly painful sensation can trip into full panic, I open my mouth.

“Vivian has—” I take a second to even my punchy voice and plaster a charming smile on my face. “She just confided in me that she’s a Tuesday regular in our study rooms because the scent of books helps her get through a task she hates.” I huffa good-natured chuckle. “Can’t say I blame her. I love being surrounded by books.”

I tuck my tongue in my cheek over the popular joke librarians share amongst themselves. The general public thinks librarianship is about the love of reading, but truly, it’s about so much more. It’s the curation, categorization, and protection of information while vigilantly safeguarding accessibility and protecting the privacy of all who benefit from the library’s free access.

But I’m assuming since Atticus makes a weekly trip to check out new books, he likes to read. Hopefully, he’ll pick up on the conversation topic I’ve placed before him.

His head tilts to the side. “What’s the task you hate?”

Not where I thought this would go but still helpful.

Vivian bites her lip so hard I’m concerned she’ll draw blood. “Bookkeeping.”

The smile stretching Atticus’s face is so earnest and honest I have to pinch my thigh within my pocket to keep myself from doing something rash. “I love bookkeeping. I’m, uh…”—he tugs on his ear—“an accountant. Numbers are my jam.”

My jam?What’s next? Jazz hands? My hatred of this man grows every second we’re forced to share air, even though that emotion is completely unfounded. By all accounts, he seems like a decent person.

He’s also who Vivian wants, my mind reminds me like the unhelpful jerk it is.

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