By The Sea by Katherine McIntyre Page A

herself and dealt with the trails and woes of waitressing, she had a “deal with it” mentality. I snuck in past her, not wanting to get involved in her and her mother’s usual arguments. The last time I’d gotten roped in for advice had most definitely been a trap.
    Reynard, our main cook, was already hard at work, shouting indistinguishable babble over the hissing and sizzling going on at his station. A strong fishy scent permeated the air. I sniffed my arm, wanting to make sure it wasn’t me. Around here, seafood reigned, and the smells of fried halibut, crab, salt water, and mussels couldn’t be avoided. Live here long enough, like me, and you’d be able to tell the different scents apart, too.
    Gina was leaning against the wall chatting someone up but, from this angle, I couldn’t see them. Whoever it was, they warranted full-flirt mode from her—hair twirls, batted lashes—the kind of stuff she saved for after working hours. I ignored them, walking over to my cubby and checking my reflection in the small mirror Gina and I shared. No spots of dirt marked my cheeks, though with how tan I was, marks were hard to spot anyway. All the time I spent swimming paid off, giving me year-round color. My dark hair was still damp from my shower, but with the light skimming of eyeliner and tinted lip gloss I’d applied, I pulled off presentable.
    My shift was about to begin and, despite my reticence to interrupt Gina and her new friend, they blocked the doorway. I approached, trying to think of the most polite way to dodge past, when Janice strolled through, grabbing my arm.
    “We’ve got a new hire His name is Mason. Could you and Gina show him the ropes tonight?” she asked.
    I nodded as we turned the corner to greet them.
    Mason was about a hand-span taller than me, which, at my five-foot-seven, placed him in the “tall” category. He could have been described as lanky, but the way his black tee clung to his figure, those muscles weren’t lacking in definition. With tousled dark-brown hair and ash-blue eyes, he’d draw more than Gina’s attention. Especially combined with his long face and defined chin. The man was attractive, but that wasn’t why I stared at him like I’d spotted an alien landing. Everything about him, I’d seen before.
    From the way his face lit with curiosity to the slight tilt of his jaw, even the lingering scent of brine and breeze gave him away. He was identical to Niall, give or take seven years of growing up. Which was impossible.
    “Are you going to introduce yourself or stare at him slack-jawed?” Janice asked as she strolled past us.
    My cheeks heated in embarrassment and I tugged on my ponytail. Great, now I was losing my mind. I stuck out my hand while staring down the linoleum, which, of course, made the situation more awkward. “Nice to meet you. My name’s Megan.”
    “She gets pretty busy, though, so you’ll want to tag along with me tonight,” Gina said, trying to draw the attention back to her. Too late; my awkwardness had already made an unforgettable appearance, so, of course, I couldn’t be let off the hook.
    “Mason.” He clasped my hand, his own warm and oddly damp. His voice wasn’t deep, but had a kind of softness I hadn’t expected. I peeked past my long fringe of bangs, hoping my blush had faded somewhat.
    “Megan,” I said, before realizing I’d already introduced myself. “Well, like Janice said, if you need help with anything, let me know. I should be getting to work. I mean, working on stuff, I’m already at work.” Voila, my incorrigible ability to make uncomfortable situations more uncomfortable. Ugh. He probably thought I was some backwoods moron at this point, all because he looked like someone I’d made up a long time ago. As if that didn’t sound crazy. “Anyway, let me know if you’re having trouble.”
    “Will do.” He gave me a grin, his eyes crinkling with his smile. I whirled around, making a beeline for the host stand. A hand