I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t. It felt good to admit defeat to her.
Austin shouted, “Dean, reel in. We’re heading back.”
Brynn gave my arm a parting squeeze, then bounded off to help him. I sat there and worked the reel, the wind drying the sweat from my face, feeling lighter than I had any right to. When I glanced over, Brynn was watching me. She held my gaze for a long, unguarded moment, then winked.
As Austin steered us home, I stared at Brynn and thought,Maybe it’s not about winning. Maybe it’s about finding someone who makes you want to try.
After we docked, Brynn insisted on treating me to ice cream to make up for getting personal. Which was a good idea since I was still trying to figure out why I’d opened up to a woman I’d only thought of as a distant friend and schoolmarm a few days ago. Before I knew she was fun, smart, and yeah, I had to admit it, sexy.
We thoroughly scrubbed our hands before heading down Main Street, which a 50s television show would have envied—quaint shops, colorful awnings, and huge balls of hanging flowers. Brynn promised that the Corner Scoop wielded a Key lime cone of such ferocity it would knock me over.
The ice cream shop looked like a postcard—all pale blue walls, seashell garlands, and a counter covered in snapshots of kids with sticky faces. It smelled of sugar and nostalgia. I had to remind myself I hated this shit.
The moment we stepped inside, Brynn changed. The slight tension coiled in her shoulders since returning to dry land dissolved under the blast of frigid air conditioning. Her steps became more confident. She ran a hand along the worn countertop like she was greeting an old friend, a small smile gracing her lips. I’d pegged her as having soft edges, but in here, she looked solid. Like she was made of the same stuff as the foundation of this place.
Behind the counter stood a woman with steel-gray hairand arms that could bench-press the ice cream machine. She took one look at Brynn and hollered, “Well, if it isn’t my runaway girl!”
Brynn laughed. “Hi, Doris. Still serving the best brain freeze in the Keys?”
“Always for you.” Doris shimmied around the counter and enveloped Brynn in a hug that could double as CPR. “Well, hello there, Mr. Tall Drink of Water.” She fixed me with a shrewd gaze. “Hope you’ve got a sweet tooth.”
I nodded, suddenly twelve, and tried not to fidget. “I’ll try anything once.”
“That’s what they all say,” Doris said, winking, then squeezed Brynn’s shoulder. “But this one is the real deal. Worked here the summer she turned seventeen. Best scooper I ever had—except for her tragic lack of upper body strength.”
“Some of us are built for brains, not biceps,” Brynn retorted.
I laughed out loud, enjoying myself immensely.
“We’ll both take the Dove Key lime cone,” Brynn said as she bumped my hip.
“You got it, honey.” Doris slid back the glass top of a freezer and put a bicep bigger than mine to work.
“I swear, that time was the easiest I ever breathed.” A wistful note entered Brynn’s voice as she swept her gaze around the shop. “Teaching is my passion, but that summer was just pure, simple fun. No lesson plans, just scoops.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Doris scooped the second cone. “Lesson plans, huh? You became a teacher?”
“First grade.” Brynn’s smile widened. “I’m really glad to see you’re still behind the counter here.”
“As much as I hate to admit it, I’m not getting anyyounger.” Doris leaned on the counter. “I’m thinking about selling this place.”
The words dropped like a bowling ball. Brynn blinked. “Seriously?”
“It’s time. But I won’t sell to just anyone. This place is family. Needs someone who gets it.” She looked directly at Brynn as she handed her both cones. “Ever thought about running an ice cream shop, honey?”
Brynn fumbled one, and I caught it deftly. Her face, which had already taken on a golden hue from the sun, paled. “Me? I’m a teacher, Doris. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
Doris wagged a finger. “You ran this place by yourself more than I did that summer. You’ve got the touch with people. This place needs heart, not a business plan. Just something to think about.”
For a second, Brynn looked like a kid caught between the promise of Christmas and the terror of asking for what she wanted most.
I said, without thinking, “You’d be great at it.” Brynn looked at me like I’d spoken in tongues. I pressed on. “Seriously. You’re organized, people love you, and you already know the secret handshakes around here. You belong.”
Doris barked her approval. “I like this one, Brynn. He’s got good sense.”
Brynn colored but didn’t look away from me. “You really think I could do it?”
“Yeah. I do.” I said the words softly, but I meant every one. The woman before me could do damn near anything from what I’d seen.
