Page 7 of Seas the Dating Coach

That must be why. It’s the only explanation.

Something unreadable flickers across his face before he raises a sardonic eyebrow. “Either way, you still need my assistance. With my dating experience, I can help you control those distracting, fluttery feelings that keep you tongue tied.”

It’s my turn to cross my arms. “And teach me to be a Casanova?”

His laugh sends a fissure of energy crackling through my bones, and I shift my shoulders to dissipate the sensation.

“If that’s your term for someone who can be around a person they like without clamming up, then I have my work cut out for me.”

“Would you prefer I call you”—I check off on my fingers—“a lothario? Libertine? Rogue? Knave?” All while I’m listing off names, he’s shaking his head, a hint of a smile teasing the corner of his mouth. “A debauched rake?”

His large hand covers both of mine, stopping me. “Finn.” That weird, fizzy sensation skips over my skin before he pulls his hand back. “My name is Finn. Finn Reynolds.”

I tuck my fingers into the pockets of my dress and hesitate. “Vivian Hutchinson.”

“Vivian.” The smile on his face is more fascinated than conniving.

My shoulders tense as the events of the last few minutes catch up to me.

I should walk away.

I should walk away and chalk this whole interaction up to some odd swell of the tide. Because surely I’m not going to make a deal with this devilish man to win Atticus’s heart. The sea is already throwing my crush at me. I just need to garner the confidence to strike up some small talk.

All that comes out of my mouth is, “How exactly would this arrangement work?”

Finn rubs his beard scruff, looking up and then scowling at the broken lightbulb. “It’ll be an even exchange. One dating lesson for each time you convince a local that I’m not some sinister monster trying to destroy all they hold dear.”

A chuff leaves my nose. My mentor and surrogate grandmother, whom I still call Miss Wendy even though I’m grown, might have used a very similar phrase to describe Finn when I delivered her weekly flowers yesterday morning.

All the snark leaves Finn with one large exhale. What’s left behind is deceptively vulnerable. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

I roll my lips inward. “People around here don’t like change. It didn’t help that after being here for two days, you defunded bingo snacks.”

“This is a library.” His tone hardens as he straightens, the glimmer of what I thought I saw gone. “It should serve the community. Providing snacks for a Friday night bingo game when that money could go toward something more important is reckless.”

I meet his gaze, trying not to get distracted by the liquid quality of his irises. “Our library does serve our community. It’s the center of our town. Most of us are readers and use the library in its strictest sense, but it’s also where we gather. It’s where we pass neighbors and catch up in addition to borrowing the latest bestseller. Many of the older islanders don’t have a computer and use the media room to pay bills or email their grandkids.”

“That’s why I eliminated bingo snacks.” He slides his hands into his pockets again, but this time, the stance is unmistakably powerful. “I want to update the computers, but that money has to come from somewhere. Not providing chips and soda on a weekly basis was an easy way to work toward that goal.”

“I understand you believe that’s the best option.”

His dark brows raise. “What other option is there?”

The answer materializes instantly, but I don’t show my hand. Instead, I close my eyes, taking a long, slow inhale. The potent scent of books and the lingering ocean brine flitting through the front door settles the buzzing at the base of my skull.

What if this arrangement worked? I know exactly how to help Finn Reynolds reach his goal. What if he really could help me win over Atticus? Having a dating coach sounds ludicrous, but it’s certainly strange to run into Finn twice in one day after never seeing him before. What if my wish sent this man to help me? I know better than to ignore a gift from the sea. All islanders do.

When I open my eyes, Finn is watching me with a curious head tilt.

“You moved into the rental three houses down from the auto shop, right?”

“The auto shop?” he asks.

“Sorry. It used to be an auto shop. It’s a…gym or something now.”

“How…” Finn pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. The boyish gesture undermines his carefully coiffed appearance. “How do you know where I live?”

I shrug. “Small town.”

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