Page 40 of Seas the Dating Coach

Finn

“What’s with the face?” Noah asks, as we sit at an empty picnic table at Bayside Table.

I lock my phone screen to hide Vivian’s polite refusal, sliding it into the pocket of my sweat-damp athletic shorts before reconsidering and placing it face down on the table. “It’s nothing.”

Earlier, when we’d been walking here, I’d answered Vivian’s question about Atticus, not telling Noah who I was texting with. Then I’d had to keep from grinning like an idiot as we’d gone back and forth.

Vivian’s last message, thanking me for the invitation but saying that she’s staying home makes sense. It’s late. She’s not used to being out multiple times per week since she usually only goes to music trivia. It probably wouldn’t be best for town gossip if we were seen together two nights in a row, anyway.

Especially since she’s interested in Atticus.

These are all logical, valid reasons, yet none of them assuage the dull ache along my ribs.

“Nothing, huh?” Noah gives me an unconvinced look over his club soda and orange.

My new boxing partner was happy to accept my invitation for a post-workout drink with the caveat that his be non-alcoholic since he’s six years sober. Drinking after Geneva practically beat the crap out of us didn’t seem like the best idea, so I ordered the same.

“It’s just…women problems,” I tell him, shocking myself by actually telling the truth instead of coming up with a complex web of lies. It’s second nature when someone asks me a question about myself at this point. I must bereallyexhausted for the truth to wiggle through.

“With someone on the mainland,” I add quickly when Noah’s eyebrows shoot up.

“No offense, but I can’t imagine you having women problems.” His boisterous laugh draws the attention of the middle-aged couple nearest us.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“My dude.” He pulls off his backward baseball hat, runs his fingers through his hair, and replaces it. “You own a mirror, right?”

I grin at the table, shaking my head. “It’s never that simple.”

“True.” He nods, his gaze drifting out over the calm bay.

Sensing an opening, I ask, “What’s the story with you and Brynn?”

Noah sucks a breath through his teeth. “Come on, man. We just met. Don’t hit me with the hard punches at the beginning of our bromance.”

I laugh for what seems like the seventeenth time in ten minutes. Before Vivian and I began texting, Noah had beenplayfully goading Geneva after class ended. We helped put away equipment as Noah tried to get Geneva to crack a smile—unsuccessfully, I might note.

My hands lift in surrender. “Got it. Women are off the table. Want to talk sports?”

Noah’s grin broadens. “Please tell me you’re a baseball fan.”

The remainder of the week is almost bland in its simplicity. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad the locals are finally being pleasant, and no one else attempts to jumpstart their marriage in the library. Even the wild rainstorm we were supposed to receive yesterday ended up being a light sprinkle.

It’s not until Vivian rushes through my office door late Friday afternoon that I realize it’sherthat’s been missing. I struggle to keep my expression even, to conceal the way my mood lifts as she tosses her butterfly tote on my desk with complete disregard for my neatly stacked folders. I’ve missed Vivian’s quiet chaos, her freckle-dusted cheekbones, her—

I cut off the thought, leaning back in my office chair with an air of nonchalance that’s in direct opposition to my sprinting heartbeat.

“Isn’t this a pleasant surprise.”

Vivian tucks a springy curl behind her ear, coming around the desk. “I need help.”

Her quick motion sends her azure skirt billowing, her coffee-tinged magnolia fragrance perfuming the room. If I thought my heart was racing before, it’s malfunctioning now. She’s going to kill me sitting on my desk like that, legs crossed at the ankle. I know there are shorts under her tea-length dress, but that doesn’t make me want to slide a hand up her calf any less.

I let an easy smile lift my lips and interlace my fingers over my stomach to keep them from misbehaving. “With what?”

“Petunia finally clunked out,” Vivian tells me, biting her lip and twisting her ring.

I bolt upright in my chair. “Who’s Petunia?”

---