Page 25 of Seashells and Daiquiris

He tilts the beer toward my laptop. "My sister is obsessed with your books. She has every single one. Oh my god, she's going to lose her mind." He's pulling out his phone. "Can I get a picture? She literally has your author photo on her⁠—"

His sister I’d gladly take a picture with, but something about this is too sudden and on the nose for me. Normally I love meeting a fan in the wild. But this doesn’t feel the same. “No, you have the wrong person."

"It's definitely you. Your author photo is⁠—"

“Sexy merman, some help!”

“—right there. I can tell it’s you.”

The muffled shout from the seashell inside of my bag seems to go completely unrecognized, except for when I glance up, Liam’s attention is fully engrossed on us, and dare I say the look of threat in his eyes as he assess why I need help makes me close my legs like he’ll see how that arouses me.

I focus back on this random stranger, loosely holding a hand up. “Look, you got me. But I’m working. Maybe after.”

My voice has gone tight and thin and the heat in my face is not the fun kind of heat. It's the panicked kind. The kind that comes from someone pulling back the curtain on the version of yourself you keep carefully separate from your real life. Marlowe Indigo exists on book covers and Instagram, in the carefully curated world of my author persona. She does not exist at a dive bar in a magical town while her host's cursed seashell is right in my bag.

Brody is still holding up his phone. "Just one picture, come on, she'll⁠—"

"She said no, Brody."

Liam's voice comes from directly behind the guy, low and flat, carrying the specific energy of a man who has bounced a lot of people from this bar and is deciding whether to add one more to the list.

Brody glances between us. "Oh, I was just⁠—"

"She's not interested. And she's with me."

Brody looks at Liam, really looks, taking in the silver hair and the tattoos and the shoulders and the expression that says test me, and makes the correct survival decision.

"Oh, shit, my bad, man. I didn't realize she was your girlfriend. Thought you didn’t take one on.” He's off the seat, tipping his beer to the aide. "I’ll tell my sister you said hi?" he adds to me, like we're friends now, before disappearing into the crowd.

I sit there, nearly panting, my face on fire but now for entirely different reasons. I want to call him back just so I can let his sister know I’m so grateful for the support, just that her brother had the wrong timing…

Liam slides into the seat across from me, leaning over to close some of the distance between us. Like he’s got no interest in rescinding that public statement that I know others overhear.

"Your girlfriend?" I manage, tucking my hair behind my ears. “We should have corrected that, right?”

"Would you have preferred I let him keep going?"

"Well,” I start, blinking rapidly. “No, obviously.”

"Then yes. My girlfriend." He looks at me sideways, and there's something in his eyes that isn't just protectiveness. It's that flicker I saw at his house, the crack in the wall, the glimpse of something warmer and more dangerous underneath. "At least while you're here."

I throw him a glare. "That's going to get back to people."

"Good.”

"Good?" I ask, surprised he’s doubling down.

"If anyone else in this town needs to know you're off limits, they'll know by tomorrow morning. And that includes Thalassa." He purses his lips as he sighs, staring at me for a moment that makes him look all serious. “Haven’t ever heard the shell ask for help… look, sorry if that was too much.” He waves a hand. “But anyone could be with Thalassa, and if the shell shouts for help, I’m showing up. I don’t trust anything right now.”

I tap my fingers on the table, because, well, he has a point. “Is it always this serious? When the shell picks someone?”

Those beautiful, warm eyes connect with mine, and I can see the faintest indent of worn laugh lines around his eyes. “Not at all. And you’re, well, different,” he says, nodding his head as if to casually reference the soulmate stuff, “which means I’m not messing around. We can chat later, okay?”

He taps the table with his hand, and stands to walk away. I watch him go. The bar continues around me like nothing happened, except that Kira is grinning so hard I'm worried her face might split, and two selkie women in the corner are whispering and staring at me with open fascination.

My gaze drifts back to my laptop as the cursor blinks.

I write: And then, without warning or permission, he claimed her in front of everyone....