Her brow furrows, then she says, “No, no. You’ve got the wrong idea. I guess he didn’t tell you, huh? He’s just a friend. We were never together.”

“You and Lucky … ?”

“It wasn’t his,” she says simply, shaking her head. “Lucky’s dad does upkeep on my family’s yacht, and that’s how I know him. That’s the thing about this town and rumors. They may be based on things people have witnessed, but assumptions get made, and sometimes those assumptions are dead wrong. Like, for instance, you say that you and Lucky aren’t a thing, but everyone saw you getting arrested together—”

“That was coincidence,” I insist. “He just happened to be at that party, and when I left … It’s a long story.”

“See? Same. Lucky’s been nothing but kind to me, which is more than I can say for other people.”

She steps forward when the line moves, then says, “Lucky is flat-out one of the sweetest guys I know. People have said shit about him for years, and I’m not saying he’s an angel, but for what it’s worth, he’s a genuinely decent guy and a good friend.”

I’m a little bowled over by her earnest endorsement … and by everything she’s just told me. Not sure if relief is the right word, but I mull it over as Bunny steps up to the counter, orders, and leaves with a bag of green apple fritters, mouthing words of encouragement that I initially mistake as “Good Lucky.”

And was he? Good, I mean? She made him sound as if he’s a paragon of manners—a cherubic choirboy, humble and full of grace. Savior complex. Maybe that’s the only reason he took the fall for me … because he’s addicted to helping old ladies cross the street, and I’m just another person for him to save.

Nope. Don’t buy it. He’s hiding something, and he’s lying to his family about saving my ass. He let them think he broke the window, just like I let my mom think he did it.

I did it to avoid trouble.

Maybe he did it to attract trouble.…

Because, now that I’m thinking about it, Bunny’s whole rainbows-and-glitter endorsement of Lucky’s overall wholesome goodness does make me question all the other rumors about him. Like, all of them. If he isn’t the reprobate that I once assumed him to be, and if our trip to the police station wasn’t just another notch in his notoriety …

Then maybe he isn’t really the bad boy.

What if he’s only trying to be bad?

What if he’s ruining his reputation on purpose?

Chapter 10

SUNSET CHARTERS! FISHING—SIGHTSEEING—HISTORIC HARBOR TOURS—ROMANTIC CRUISES—CASH UPFRONT—NO REFUNDS: Metal sign by Goodly Pier advertising a pay-by-the-hour boat charter service that ferries tourists around the harbor. (Personal photo/Josephine Saint-Martin)

Chapter 10