Page 34 of Freeing Lark

She nearly bounced in her chair. “I knew it.”

Hoot shook his head. “Sure you did,” he scoffed, his voice dripping with skepticism.

She broke off another bite of her muffin and pointed it at him. “Don’t tell me you were a SEAL.”

His expression barely changed, but she saw it. A slight tightening around his eyes. A tiny flare of surprise. She gasped. “You were?”

Hoot sighed. “You’re very observant. Maybe too observant,” he muttered under his breath.

“That’s amazing.”

“It’s a job.”

“It’s the Navy SEALs.”

“Was.”

“Still amazing,” she applauded. “Besides, I thought you guys always say ‘once a SEAL, always a SEAL.’ Or something like that.”

He shook his head, fighting another lip twitch. Someday, she’d get him to stop fighting his smiles.

Lark took another bite of muffin. “So, you gonna tell me how you got the name Hoot now?”

“Nope.”

“Because I’m not your friend yet.”

“Affirmative.”

She pouted. “And here I thought we’d had a breakthrough.”

“Nope. But feel free to think whatever you like.”

She grinned, and they talked some more. Or, more accurately, Lark talked. She told him about the store. The artists’ cooperative and her plans for the island and the bell.

He responded mostly with brief comments, and occasional questions, but she didn’t mind. She liked the quiet spaces between his words. They felt comfortable. Strangely comfortable.

By the time she finished her muffin and coffee, she realized she’d been sitting with him for nearly forty minutes. She stood. “I should get going.”

Hoot nodded. She bent to grab the bags. The penny bag caught on the leg of the table. There was a sharp ripping sound. Lark froze. “Oh, shit.”

The bottom of the bag gave way. Pennies exploded across the floor. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. They rolled beneath chairs. Across the floor. Under the counter. One hit the wall and bounced beneath a display case.

Lark stared. Then slowly looked toward the ceiling. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Cammie rushed over. “I’ve got a bag.”

Lark dropped to her knees. “I’ve got them.”

Coins rolled everywhere. She crawled beneath the table, grabbing handfuls and shoving them into the bag Cammie handed her. She scrambled under the tables and chairs, trying to gather them all.

Then she felt someone kneel beside her. Large fingers closed around a penny. Hoot, the man she had just called god-like was helping her. On his hands and knees. On the floor.

“You missed this one.”

Lark blinked. “You’re helping?”

“Obviously.”