After ordering, his father speaks. “What is it exactly that you do, Shelly?”
“I work on the beach near the marina, making sure the turtle nests are undisturbed, and I organise the volunteers.” I fiddle with the napkin in my hand.
“Awe, what a cute little job,” Delia says.
Finn clears his throat. “Shelly works really hard. She runs all the fundraising and manages the volunteers as well as the funds. She also keeps the beach clean.”
“Does it pay well?” Alex asks, with a hint of Britishness like Finn’s, but mixed with a Southern accent.
I scrunch my nose and squirm in my seat. “I take a small salary to live. We’re a charity, so it’s not about profit.”
“I see. Isn’t that private land?”
“Dad.” Finn gives his father a pained look with a clenched jaw.
I squeeze his hand where it rests on my thigh. “The state owns the beach from the sea to the high water mark, but the area where the sand dunes start is owned by a private developer in Charleston. But I’m confident we can put a stop to any development plans.”
Alex smiles and huffs out a small laugh, which I find odd.
“Honey, the Kilmores are here,” Delia says, tapping Alex’s shoulder.
“Janice, lovely to see you.” Alex stands to great Chad’s mother, while Chad and Bentley follow behind.
Finn’s back straightens, he snarls at Bentley as if he gave him a bad filling or something.
Alex shakes Chad’s hand. “Is your father joining you for dinner?”
“He’ll be along shortly. We’re celebrating Bentley here winning a dentistry award,” he says with a smile, blinding us all in the process, though his smile fades when he scans the dinner table and does a double-take when he gets to me.
I sip the white wine, needing something to take the edge off, but not too much. I need my wits about me. It’s like I’m trapped in shark-infested waters.
“Congratulations, Bentley.” Alex shakes his hand. “You must join us for dinner.”
“Dad. I’m sure the Kilmores want to have a private dinner,” Finn says through gritted teeth.
Alex sits down. “Yes, of course. I’ll come and say hello to your father after dinner and we can grab a drink. How’s that?”
“Sure, I’ll let him know.” The family disappears to the other side of the restaurant and I relax a little.
Our starters arrive. The aroma from my spicy mango ginger soup fills the air and I tuck the napkin I’ve been fiddling with on my lap.
“Nice chaps,” Alex says when Chad and Bentley are out of earshot, and I almost choke on my soup.
Finn’s knuckles graze up and down my spine while glaring at his father, who pinches his eyebrows in confusion. “They’re tossers.”
“Finnegan.” Alex scolds, as though he’s telling off a teenager.
“Lets not talk about the dentist or the Kilmores,” Delia says. “How long have you two been together?”
“We met a few weeks ago, but we’ve officially been together since last weekend.” Finn’s lips lift in the corner as if remembering our date, making my cheeks heat.
“So you’re the reason he wasn’t around last weekend. I thought he was holed up painting with his head in the clouds.” Finn’s father huffs.
“His paintings are very good.” Excitement bubbles in my tummy. I turn to Finn. “I forgot to tell you I sold the painting of the marina.”
Finn’s smile widens. “That’s great.”
“I have the receipt in my purse.” Opening the shell purse, I pull out the till receipt. “I’ll transfer the money if you give me the bank details.”
