Going Coastal (Echo Cove Book 1) by Holly Crawford

Author:Holly Crawford [Crawford, Holly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-09-20T00:00:00+00:00

“Good god, Lark,” Liam groans pitifully. “You’re a fucking sadist. Or maybe a psychopath. I’ll let you know when the world stops spinning and I’m no longer at risk of losing my dinner.”

It takes a gargantuan effort to keep my face looking contrite as I listen to Liam’s complaining, but I manage. Barely. Twining our fingers back together, I lead us away from the Tilt-a-Whirl with determined steps. “Come on, plant boy. I know just what you need.”

An irritated groan reaches my ears, and I finally let loose the laughter I’ve been holding back. Keelan has mostly grown out of it by now, which is a good thing with how much he travels for work, but it seems my fake boyfriend wasn’t lying about having motion sickness.

I told him he shouldn’t ride the Tilt-a-Whirl with me, but he flat out rejected the idea of me going alone and forced himself into the seat next to me and pulled the bar across our laps so he couldn’t get back out until the ride stopped.

The Tilt-a-Whirl is essentially a giant booth seat that spins in violent circles for a good five minutes before stopping. When I was a kid my dad would go on the ride with me while Mom and Keelan ate corndogs, and we’d throw our bodyweight side to side to make the chair spin faster.

Needless to say, with how green Liam got after the first couple of rotations, I did not bring up the trick to make it spin faster.

“The Salty Siren? You’re not seriously suggesting a bar is the cure for my motion sickness are you?”

Choosing to ignore his lack of faith in me, I soldier on and march us through the sea-foam green doors with a wide smile on my face. The all-too-familiar smell of cheap tequila and old grease invades my nostrils. Memories of family birthdays and nights out with Kelsey race through my mind on a nostalgic loop.

I couldn’t count on two hands the number of times my friends and I came in here to drink back in high school. We thought we were smart as hell sneaking in here with our awful fake ID’s and too-short shorts, when really everyone knew who we were and let us get away with it.

“Well slap my ass and call me Sally, has my favorite little hen finally come home to roost?” The boisterous voice of Jackson Graves Sr. echoes over the din of the early-2000’s alternative music blasting through the bar.

My smile widens so much my cheeks feel as though they may split, and I pull a wobbly Liam with me to the bar. The poor guy still looks pretty green, so I bat my lashes at Jackson and dig a ten dollar bill out of my purse, slapping it down on the sticky bar top.

“Two Sea Legs please.” I glance back at Liam and grimace when I see the sweat beading at his temples. “Might wanna toss some extra ginger in one of them.”

The man’s smile is knowing as he takes us in, but for once he doesn’t say a word in jest.

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