Page 78 of Hearts on the Line

My phone vibrates, and I check, my heart sinking at the number. “I need to take this. Bye, Michael.”

Finally, he steps outside, and I lock up behind him. “Hello?” I act surprised, but I know who’s calling.

“Hi, Sloane, it’s Martha from the Monarchs. It’s been hard to reach you this summer.”

“Well,” I say, staring down the sidewalk. There’s a little boy sinking his face enthusiastically into a pile of cotton candy from the candy shop across the street. “It’s been busy.”

“Right, I’m so sorry to hear about the wedding. That whole mess⁠—”

“Can I help you?”

“I’m calling because I’ve sent over some employment paperwork for you to fill out, and I haven’t received anything back. I need to get you scheduled for training soon. Can’t believe summer’s almost over.”

“It’s not.” I say this maybe a touch more forcefully than I should.

“It’s August next week, honey. We have a start date for you, the first week of September, after Labor Day.”

“I’ll check my email and get those back to you then. Thanks for the call, Martha.”

I hang up and am about to stash it back in my bag when it vibrates again.

There’s no use in trying to fight the smile on my face when I see who it’s from.

Hot Lobsterman: Step one, catch lobsters. Step two, boil them.

He sends a picture of his boat, freshly cleaned.

Sloane: Did you change your contact name on my phone?

Sloane: At least the boat made it back into the harbor.

Hot Lobsterman: It was between this and Seafood Daddy.

Sloane: Eww, don’t complicate this, Murphy.

Ethan responds almost immediately with a picture of himself in his Grudens and boots.

Sloane: I’ll add it to my spank bank. To think I missed out all this time…

Hot Lobsterman: Smartass. Where are you?

Sloane: Why?

It takes a few minutes before he responds, and I’m almost to the Oyster and Pearl, where I’m meeting Sarah and some friends for dinner.

I might as well be walking through a swamp because the humidity is so thick. I adjust my sunglasses and glance up at the sunshine shining through the maple trees lining the busy sidewalk. The sea air is sweet with the smell of taffy and ice cream.

Hot Lobsterman: Because if you’re going to run your mouth, I have something you can choke on.

I stumble a step, thankful my eyes are hidden away. A rush of butterflies tumbles through my stomach. Ethan might mainly communicate in grunts and hates everyone, but the things that come out of his mouth in the bedroom more than make up for it.

Sloane: Promises, promises.

Hot Lobsterman: I can still taste your pretty cunt on my tongue.

Shots. Fired.

Sloane: Easy, Seafood Daddy.