Page 31 of Summer Reading

“Sounds fair.”

I grabbed the plastic tubs for my cooking supplies and shoved them at Tyler.

“Start packing, kid.” I gestured to my cookware that was stacked on a drying rack, as I’d washed up as we went along during happy hour. “We’ll be right back.”

“Yes, Boss,” Tyler said. He sent me a saucy smile.

We headed into the inn and took two stools at the end of the old-fashioned bar near the wall.

“Good to see you again, Sam,” the bartender said. He was tall and wide with reddish blond hair and pale blue eyes. He had a full beard that hung down the frontof his shirt, and his matching mustache was waxed and curled on the ends. I had no clue who this guy was.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t—”

“Recognize me?” he asked. “I’m not surprised. I haven’t seen you in over ten years. I went into the Coast Guard and have been gone almost as long as you, from what I hear.”

My mouth dropped open. There was only one person I knew who’d joined the Coast Guard. “Finn Malone, is that you?”

“In the flesh,” he said. He opened his arms, and I hopped up and leaned over the bar to give him a hug.

“The beard totally threw me off,” I said. “When I knew you, you didn’t have enough facial hair to cover a pimple.”

He laughed. “Didn’t stop me from getting into trouble. Remember the night we stole that car from that asshole?”

“Shh.” I put my finger to my lips. I jerked my head in Ben’s direction. “I have a reputation to protect. I’m trying to convince the director of the library here that I’m capable of teaching teenagers how to cook.”

“Good luck with that,” Finn said. “After all of the trouble you got into as a teen? I think your reputation is beyond saving.”

“Well, it is if you keep oversharing,” I said. I pointed to Ben. “Ben Reynolds, this is Finn Malone, and any bad things I did as a teen are one hundred percent his fault.”

“What? That’s what I always say about you,” Finn protested. They shook hands.

“It’s a shame we can’t blame Em. No one would ever believe it,” I said.

“True,” Finn agreed. “What can I get you two?”

“Something locally brewed?” I asked Ben. He nodded.

“Two Bad Marthas coming up,” Finn agreed. He wandered off toward the taps.

“I can explain about the stolen car thing,” I said.

Ben rested his chin on his hand. It was a good chin, square and strong, maybe a little stubborn. “I’m listening.”

“Finn, Em, and I were walking home from the arcade one night, and this guy was driving a Camaro and weaving all over the place,” I said. “And then, he just parked it in the middle of the street, doors open and engine running, while he staggered over to some bushes to... how do I say this delicately?”

“Splash the boots, strain the noodle, shake the dew off the lily?” Ben guessed.

“The only delicate word in there was ‘lily,’ ” I said with a laugh. “But, yes, all of those. Anyway, my dad had recently taught me to drive a stick shift, so I jumped in the car and Finn jumped in with me.”

“But not Em?” he asked.

“Her rebellion streak did not run as wide as mine,” I said.

“Are you at the good part yet?” Finn returned and pushed two pints in front of us.

“I’m at the part where we got in the car,” I said.

Finn nodded at Ben and tugged on his beard. “Yeah, that’s the good part. You should have seen this one”—he paused to point at me—“it was like driving with Mario Andretti.”

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