Page 9 of Seas the Dating Coach

Finn’s eyes widen as something resembling pride wisps over his perfectly dark brows. A warm sensation ribbons through my chest before I give myself a mental shake. I don’t need or want this man’s approval.

“I apologize for startling you, but I thought it would be best if I wasn’t seen knocking on your front door. People talk in small towns, and I don’t want anyone knowing I’m meeting with you.”

A shadowy emotion flickers over his amber irises before Finn uncaps the bottle he’d been shaking and drops a weird little metal ball into the sink.

“Understandable.” He takes a gulp of the beige liquid. “Can’t have our precious little lamb frolicking with the big bad wolf.”

That description grates, even though I’ve received some version of it my whole life. I should be used to being the soft, sweet half of the Hutchinson twins, but lately, the idea of everyone thinking of me as a docile nobody makes my skin itch. For years, I’d been happy to be coddled, to be given the easy way out of conversations or social engagements, but now everyone thinking I’m helpless makes bile creep up my throat. I need to prove to the town—to myself—that I’m not.

Talking to Atticus is just the first step. The secrets I’ve been hiding in the closet of my shop are a mountain-sized leap.

“I’m glad you understand the situation,” I say, lifting my chin.

Who evenam Iright now? I’ve never been so brash in my life.

Instead of apologizing for the biting remark, I change the subject.

“I spoke to Dr. Prescott while he was walking his three Great Danes on the way here. He and his wife routinely donate to the library, and I told him you were looking to update the computers in the media room to better serve our community.”

“Oh, really?” Finn sets one large hand on the counter, leaning sideways into it. The casual position shouldn’t be enticing, but his raw magnetism forces me to look away.

I focus on Rebecca’s interior design instead. Finn hasn’t added any personal touches to the space, but that’s not entirely unexpected since he’s recently moved in and is an unscrupulous bachelor.

“Really,” I say with a casual shrug. “If you want to succeed in getting people to like you, then you should get to know them. Dr.P’s benevolence is why my teeth are straight.” I run my tongue over them automatically.

“He gives a significant discount to local kids. Most of us wouldn’t be able to afford orthodontics otherwise. Dr. P should have retired years ago, but he loves his job so much he keeps driving to his practice on the mainland every day. He’s also Santa at the annual Christmas tree lighting ceremony.” I drop my bag on the galley countertop separating us. “His wife, Lidia, is an equine therapist.”

“A what?”

“She helps kids with autism and cerebral palsy gain confidence through working with horses at a ranch in Pungo. The therapy riding program also works with veterans with PTSD.”

Finn blows out a breath. “Starting strong by getting on the good side of the saints of Wilks Beach.”

I bristle at his mocking tone. “Most of the people here are just as giving as the Prescotts. It’s a good community.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you since I haven’t exactly been welcomed with warm hugs.”

My lips twist to the side, considering—definitely not because I’m fighting a smile. “The town’s history does make us standoffish toward mainlanders.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes while taking another gulp. “You’ll understand once you’ve heard the stories of how outsiders have tried to take advantage of Wilks Beach residents.”

When Finn opens his arms wide, it’s a challenge not to fixate on his firm pecs. “I’d love to hear them.”

“Our bargain was one wooed townsperson for a dating lesson.” I tap my fingernails on the counter in what I hope is a nonchalant way. “I did my part.”

“Did you?” he challenges.

“Yes.” My gaze narrows on his. “Dr. Prescott said he appreciated your initiative to improve the media room, and heintends to call later this week to discuss providing an additional donation toward your cause. And because usislandersprotect our own, we’ve taken steps to maintain as much autonomy as we can. I’m sure you’ve learned that donations given directly to our library aren’t shared with the greater library system.”

Finn’s eyes don’t leave mine, but the tense tick of his jaw muscles confirms that he’s already been educated on how our library, though connected with all the other Virginia Beach libraries, maintains an independent budget.

“Okay. Fair is fair.” He rubs his beard scruff, setting down his half-empty cup. “What is it about yourdream manthat’s making you freeze?”

Ignoring the snark lacing his words, I let my vision drift to the decorations above the upper cabinets. Like most Wilks Beach home decor, they’re nautical in nature. Dust coats the square white-washed wood planks painted with blue crabs, shells, and sea turtles.

“I don’t know if it’s Atticus so much as it’s speaking in general.” The honest answer stings as it leaves my throat.

“You spoke to Dr. Prescott earlier.”

My head gives an annoyed shake, but I don’t turn my attention back to Finn. “That’s different. I can hold simple conversations with people I know. I have a hard time with strangers.”

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