I take a deep breath and keep going. “After the police station, my mom told me to stay out of your business, because she was worried about town gossip. She actually doesn’t know I’m here.…”
The look on her face is sharp but unreadable. Whew. This woman is tough.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I think about Evie teasing me, and Mom calling us Bonnie and Clyde. Now I’m worried Lucky’s mom might think I’m here to ask him out on a date. “Um, in case it matters, I want to assure you that Lucky and I are still just old friends, if you could even call it that. Old acquaintances? He’s been nothing but nice to me—a perfect gentleman, really.”
She makes a surprised noise in the back of her throat. I hope I didn’t make things worse. I keep going before I either run out of adrenaline or pass out.
“Anyway, I’m working on my portfolio, like, for internships or maybe college one day, or whatever—”
“Your pictures,” she says, pointing a manicured nail at me, as if things are making sense to her now. “All the photographs of signs.”
I nod several times. “That’s right.”
“And you want Lucky to take you around the harbor?”
“Yes!” I say, relived. Maybe she’s finally understanding, and this request doesn’t sound so strange after all. “Lots of signs around the harbor.”
Her nose wrinkles. “Water level signs? Pier signs … nothing special.”
“I like all kinds,” I assure her. “And I don’t want to add to your son’s workload. I know Lucky is super busy, working here and at the department store,” I tell her. “And I’m not trying to stir up gossip, believe me. I’ve had about all the gossip I can handle. But I also have to live in this town like everyone else, and I just want to take some photos of signs, that’s all.”
She blinks at me.
I clear my throat. Is it hot in here? I think I’m starting to feel sweat run down my back.
I push the money toward her before I can chicken out and race through the front door. “So that is why I’d like to charter a boat. Strictly a business transaction. For my portfolio.”
She leans over an old microphone that stands on her desk, presses a button, and shouts, “LUCKY.”
Oops. I seem to have gotten him in trouble.
Or maybe both of us.
I think I’ve made a huge mistake.
His mother holds up a finger, walks around the counter in impressively high heels, and storms through the back door. For a brief moment, I catch a glimpse of one of the work bays and a mechanic soldering something onto a small speedboat that’s sitting up on a lift. Classic rock music. Laughter. Hammering. The blue harbor. The door shuts behind her.
Okay, I could leave now. Make an excuse later. Only, she might walk over to the Nook, and then it would be—not good. Nope. I’m stuck here. Gotta wait it out.
It only takes a minute before the door flings open again. This time, his mother returns with Lucky in tow … and a few pairs of curious eyes gawking in the background.
A smear of oil marks both the bridge of Lucky’s nose and high on one cheek like the eye black grease paint of a professional quarterback. He looks wide-eyed and off-balance. Maybe a little bit furious. Maybe alotbit furious. I forgot about his muscular arms and hands. The intimidating swagger.
Right now, he’s looking a lot more like Actual Bad Boy than Wannabe Bad Boy.
Maybe I should’ve thought this through.
So hot in here … so,sohot.
“Saint-Martin,” he says in a tight voice.
“Karras,” I answer, discreetly pulling my sweat-logged shirt away from my sticky skin. Then I turn away from him and smile at his mother, who’s sort of jog-walking in heels around the counter, her shoes making a mesmerizingclick-click-clicksound on the tile floor.
“Okay, we’re all up to speed now,” she says, “Let me look at the calendar, sweetie.”
“Mom,” he complains.
“You’re going to help Miss Josie,” she says, holding up my cash and waving it.
