Page 26 of Seas the Dating Coach

I tilt my head. “How?”

“By letting them see the relaxed version of you I saw on Friday.” The confident smirk on her mouth has no right being that distracting. “Come and socialize with them without having an agenda. Let them see the real you.”

My skin burns as if it’s been pelted by shrapnel, but I keep my face expressionless. I can count on one hand the number of people who know the real me, and on one finger the number of people who actually like that man. When Cordelia surges to the front of my thoughts, it’s a comfort. Grounding. Reminding me of my ultimate goal.

A deep breath fills my lungs as I loosen the tension in my shoulders.

“Alright, gorgeous.” I gesture to the path behind her. “Lead the way.”

When we turn the corner of the building, the grassy area that’s normally dewy and silent during my morning runs brims with life. A group of high school students play giant connect four, their plastic cups of soda resting on a nearby picnic table. Two couples compete at cornhole while three small children—who should probably be in bed, given that it’s nearly nine—use giant Jenga blocks to build a castle. Several more groups gather around the remaining tables.

The outdoor bar is filled to capacity—a body on every stool and more on the small dance floor, chatting. A low retaining wall separates the outdoor bar/dance space from the bay beyond, likely to keep intoxicated individuals from falling in the water. In the grassy area, however, you can walk right up to the water’s unkempt edge.

I eye the trio of children, hoping that someone is watching them with the proximity of the dark, ominous bay.

“There’s also the problem that if I keep talking to locals about your virtuous nature without being seen with you, it might be seen as suspicious.” Vivian changes her voice to sound shockingly similar to Carol Cook’s. “How could shy, helpless Vivian ever speak to the new librarian, let alone befriend him? She must be making all this up or, worse, be under his evil spell. Burn the mainlander!”

“That went dark real quick.” I keep my tone light, even though the idea of anyone putting Vivian down makes my jaw pop.

She shrugs, but her grin wavers at the edges.

“Mr. Reynolds?”

I’d been so absorbed in Vivian—in how I was going to turn that fake smile into a real one—that I missed Patricia standing two feet in front of us. Her gaze bounces from me to Vivian, stalling as she practically snorts her sip of beer.

“Hey, I know you.” The man beside Patricia steps forward to slap my shoulder.

I blink up and recognize…Rollerblade Guy. I’ve given friendly nods to the handful of islanders I encounter on my morning run, and the only one who ever smiles back is Rollerblade Guy. Tonight, he’s traded his Rollerblades, cut-off denim shorts, and hairy bare chest for a pair of slacks and a too-big polo.

“Hey.” I smile back. “It’s good to see—”

“What are you doing here?” Patricia asks, eyes narrow.

My left temple ticks, but before I can answer, Vivian speaks.

“He’s with me.” Vivian pauses, chewing on her lower lip.

That simple sentence shouldn’t feel like an EMP blast within my ribs, but I struggle to keep my breathing even.

“It turns out Brynn had it wrong,” she starts, quietly at first but growing in strength with each word. “Finn only wants to do the right thing for our library and our town. Once I found out, I offered to show Finn the town’s nightlife since I know…” She swallows, green eyes darting to mine for only a millisecond. “I know what it’s like to be on the outskirts.”

Patricia’s standoffishness dissolves instantly as she wraps one arm around Vivian’s shoulder, giving her a maternal squeeze. My lungs have decided to stop functioning, but Rollerblade Guy just barks a laugh, gesturing around us.

“If you wanted nightlife, you found it. This is the only place in town. It’s not all bad, though. They’ve got music trivia on Tuesdays, karaoke on Thursdays, and live music and dancing on Saturdays.”

“Don’t forget Friday night bingo at the library. Though”—Patricia releases Vivian, lifting her brows at me—“Letitia said there might be other evening programs added to our calendar soon.”

During our impromptu meeting, Letitia floated a multitude of possible events—from puzzle swaps, to gardening lectures, to paint nights, to tai chi, to scanning home photos for digital storage. The library already has a popular book club that meets once a month and a Saturday afternoon knitting/crochet/embroidery circle in addition to its storytime programs.

“Really?” Vivian asks.

I try not to interpret the soft look in her eyes, keeping my smile congenial. “We’re considering new ideas.”

“This town could use them.” The man laughs again before offering his hand to me. “I’m Greg, by the way.”

Patricia and Greg dissolve into conversation on what’s missing in Wilks Beach as the bartender pushes an orange crush cocktail Vivian’s way. “Here ya go, love.”

I don’t miss the slight wince before Vivian responds with a small smile and smaller thanks.

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