“I’m telling you now.”
Yeah, after he, Eryn, and even Tate already discussed it without me. Forget this. “Fine, then I’ll talk too. I want to bring somebody else on here. Unpaid,” I add when I see him start to shake his head. “Somebody who’s interested in learning about museums and is willing to volunteer over the summer.”
His jaw shifts to the side as he considers. “I don’t have time to search and interview anyone. You’re going to be busy too. The tourists aren’t even all here yet and we’re going to need all hands on deck to make sure McCleave’s is where they want to be.”
“I already talked with her and she’ll pick everything up quickly.” I’m not even lying when I say that.
Dad’s stool squeaks as he leans back. “Not sure that’s a great idea.”
I’m not sure either, but he will agree to this. I’m not leaving until he does. “She’ll literally be volunteering. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll let her go.”
We look at each other, neither one all that happy with the other.
“You want me to be more invested, that’s what I’m doing.”
“Fine,” he says. “But I want you working on a new script for Tate or I’ll write one myself.”
Ten
Lili
“Oh no,” I whisper, skidding my bike to a stop beside Barrett Pier, my stomach dropping faster than my kickstand. So this is how my first official day volunteering is going to start.
I’d foolishly thought Wren wanted me to meet him here so I could pass out flyers or sell T-shirts or something. I forgot that McCleave’s does their boat tours on SaturdaysandTuesdays. He can’t possibly think I’m getting back on that boat again, can he?
“And the Tourist Girl finally arrives.”
Wren’s voice—dry as driftwood—draws my attention to him wheeling around the back of a gray pickup truck.
“I’m not late,” I say, locking my bike and joining him. “So you can’t say ‘finally’ like that.”
“What is it with you and arguing with everything I say?”
“I’ll stop arguing when you start being right.”
I catch the briefest tug at the corner of his mouth.
“Want to tell me why I’m here, since we both know you’re not mean enough to put me back on that boat?”
“No boat rides for you today,” he agrees, and I deeply dislike the way he saystoday.
“Then I’m here to...?”
“Help.” He starts down the pier.
“Right, but how exactly? And when are we going to talk about Kezia Gardner?”
His arms flex as he grips his wheels to stop them. “Do you always ask this many questions?”
“All you said was to meet you here. I think I’m owed a few answers.”
“Okay,” he says, bending to pick up a crumpled mermaid tour flyer. “Then you can start by picking up the stuff you guys leave everywhere.”
I scoff. “I have never left trash behind in my life.”
He glances up, like he’s weighing the truth of that statement. “What, do you want a cookie?”
“I wouldn’t say no to one.”
