Page 7 of Lowering His Guard

May sings and dances when the mood catches her. Whereas I’m all about training, discipline, and rules. She would drive me crazy if she were a part of my life. I have no interest in crazy.

Chapter 3

Cross-Step – balance isn't one big move. It's a hundred little ones.

May

I notice the gray lump in the middle of the road and slam on the brakes. My car screeches to a halt and I jump out.

“Sammy!” I shout as I stomp to the seal. “What are you doing out here?”

He grunts.

“It is a big deal! Tourist season is in full swing on Smuggler’s Hideaway.”

He barks.

“Yes, I know the tourists love you.”

This is why I voted against Mayor Lana’s idea to develop an app. Lana is the mayor of Smuggler’s Rest, which is only one of the three towns on Smuggler’s Hideaway. But she thinks she’s in charge of the entire island. Never mind what the residents of Pirate’s Perch or Rogue’s Landing have to say.

She barged ahead with her idea and now we have a Sammy the Seal app. Tourists fill in sightings of the seal. If they spot Sammy several times, they’re entered to win a prize. Smuggler’s Hideaway is touristy enough. We don’t need an app. But try talking any sense into Lana.

“You need to move before someone runs you over.”

Sammy honks.

“I didn’t run you over but I’m used to driving these roads and searching for you. Tourists are not.”

He barks.

“I’m serious, Sammy. I need to get to the restaurant. My parents need help.”

He grunts before galumphing toward the side of the road. He’s still half on the road, but he should be safe now.

I salute him. “Thank you, Sammy boy! I’ll bring you a treat from the restaurant.”

Don’t tell anyone, but it’s possible I sometimes feed Sammy. Only the raw meat. I wouldn’t endanger the beloved seal’s life.

I hop back in my car and continue my drive to Wok the Plank, my parents’ Chinese restaurant. The parking lot is absolutely packed when I arrive. Not a surprise since the restaurant is the only Chinese one on the island. Winters are quiet, but the summers are all hands on deck.

I finally manage to squeeze my Mini – aka Mer-Mini – into a spot meant for a motorcycle. I switch off the engine, open the door, and promptly whack the car parked next to me. Oopsie!

Not an issue. I crawl into the backseat and then over the trunk before sliding to the ground. I love having a convertible. I don’t worry about putting the top up. Crime on Smuggler’s Hideaway is pretty much non-existent. Unless you consider stealing mascots a crime. But that’s a story for another time.

I hum as I make my way across the parking lot to the rear entrance. I open the door and am met with pure chaos. Just another Tuesday night at Wok the Plank during tourist season.

Mom’s standing in front of the fryer, lifting eggrolls out. When she notices me, her face softens.

“Hi, Mom!”

“Hostess station,” is her response.

I salute her. “Aye, aye, captain!”

She shakes her head at my shenanigans, but her lips tip up. She’s amused. She doesn’t want to be. But she is.

My heart warms. I love to make Mom laugh. There was a time when I worried I’d never hear her laugh again.