Peter looks like he wouldn't mind if there were an earthquake causing a chasm under his feet at this very moment. "I don't act," he says, gaze meeting mine briefly before darting away.
"Not a requirement," Noelle says cheerfully. "You have to be able to read, and speak. The bar is low."
"I have terrible stage fright," Peter argues, sounding like he is, in fact, horrified by the idea of being on stage.
But Noelle has morphed into a pit bull, and she won't be letting this go. She wags a finger at him. "Nice try. You'll be great." She lightly taps his shoulder on her way past him. "The kids will love you. And so will the town."
Noelle floats out into the warm midday sun, petulant Scarlett in tow. When the door is fully closed, Peter pins me with a murderous glare.
I lift my hands in protest. "Whoa there, Sailor. Don't be mad at me."
"You could have stopped that from happening," Peter glowers.
Isla retreats to her desk, using the excuse that she needs to confirm appointments for the next week.
I tuck back a smile. "Perhaps." My head tips side to side. "But if I did that I would've missed out on sitting amongst the entirety of Olive Township, taking in your debut performance at thethea-tah."
He side-eyes my fancy pronunciation, and I see the precise moment my statement sinks in. His eyes bulge, his head rearing back an inch. "The entirety of Olive Township?"
I nod vigorously, enjoying this too much. "Oh yes. Everyone. And then your photo will be hung on the wall in the town hall."
His lips flatten. He smelled my bullshit. I went too far.
"I take back that last part. But," I insist, "the whole town shows up. It's held in Desert Oasis Theatre, and it's a whole thing."
"What if I chase down Noelle and tell her it's not happening?"
"You could, but then you'd be leaving her in the lurch."
Peter frowns. "I think I was fleeced."
"Noelle is awfully good at telling people what to do. You were a victim."
"Wrong person, wrong time."
I shrug. "Maybe it was a case of right person, right time. Think of it," I say, leading him to the table to start his stretches. "Maybe, buried down deep under that tough exterior, you've got Brando level acting chops. You've never had the avenue to explore it. Until now." I wave flattened palms in the air, swooping them back and forth as if I'm in a musical. "A star is born."
"Absolutely not. No. Nope." The vehemency in his tone comes through like it's been shouted into a bullhorn.
He lays back to begin his stretches, and I say, "Good luck telling Noelle you're backing out. She might be a sweet little librarian, but she's also a menace. There's a reason why she's put in charge of all the town events."
"And that would be?"
"She doesn't take no for an answer."
"Former SEAL, remember?" Peter points at his chest. "I get shit done. I was once knocked out of a Zodiac by a flying fish. At night," he stresses.
He moves into his next stretch, not needing me to guide him because he's already memorized the sequence. "I don't speak SEAL," I say, a smile playing on my lips. "What is a Zodiac?"
"A rubber boat."
"So, you were out?—"
"On the ocean at night, going almost twenty knots," he interjects.
"And a fish flew out of the water?"
"Aflyingfish."
