“I have another hour!”
The door opens and Gage peeks inside. He smiles and my pulse races. How would it feel to have him smile at me every day? Every morning in bed when I wake up and every night before I fall asleep.
Whoa, Addy. I need to slow down. Gage and I are just friends. Because I don’t have time for more.
“What are you doing here?”
He holds up a tray of coffees fromPirate’s Pastries.“I thought you might need a little caffeine.”
“You can’t bring drinks into the library.”
“The librarian said it was okay. She also told me her favorite treat is a Blackbeard’s Revenge cookie for next time.”
I roll my eyes. Of course, Gage charmed the librarian. The strict librarian who insists everyone follow the rules. Which is hilarious on Smuggler’s Hideaway, where no one follows rules.
High school kids are constantly daring each other to break her rules. There’s even a YouTube channel dedicated to videos of kids attempting to get away with shenanigans in the library.
He offers me a coffee. “Thanks. How did you find me?”
“I tried messaging.” He motions to my phone. “When you didn’t answer, I asked the owner ofPirate’s Pastriesand she told me. Did you know they have an otter in the bakery?”
“Not any old otter. He’s Viking. He’s the town mascot.”
He settles into the chair in the corner with his coffee. “A town mascot?”
“Yep. All three towns on the island have one. Viking is the mascot for Smuggler’s Rest. Rogue, the marshmallow-loving raccoon, is the mascot for Rogue’s Landing. And Plank, the foul-mouthed parrot, is the mascot for Pirate’s Perch.”
He chuckles. “This island is weird.”
“I think you mean quirky.”
“Exactly. Quirky.”
I enjoy a few sips of my coffee – maybe a caffeine hit will help me figure out what’s wrong with these lyrics – before asking, “Why did you message?”
“No reason. Just wanted to hang out. It’s my day off and I thought it would be fun to chill with a local girl.”
“Day off? I thought all of your days were off until training camp starts.”
“Nah. I need to be fit and at my goal weight at the start of training camp.” He hands me a bag. “Which is why I didn’t buy one of everything at the bakery. But I got you your favorite.”
I open the bag and inhale the scent of sugar and chocolate and cinnamon. My stomach growls in appreciation. “How did you know Siren’s Snaps are my favorite?”
“The owner of the bakery told me.”
“Parker is a big mouth,” I mutter but it doesn’t stop me from shoving the cookie into my mouth. I moan in appreciation. Parker is the best baker in the world. I’m beyond happy she didn’t abandon Smuggler’s Hideaway when she fell in love with a tech billionaire.
“Thanks for the cookie.”
He chuckles. “You said thanks but it sounded like goodbye.”
Good. It was supposed to. I motion to the table covered in my notes. “I need to get back to my song.”
He leans back in his chair. “Excellent. I’ve always wanted to watch a songwriter at work.”
“I didn’t say you can stay.”
He pushes his bottom lip forward in a pout. “Please, can I stay?”
