Chapter 14

Hudson

My ex-wife was alreadyin my head, stealing my peace. I could have enjoyed a morning in bed with Fisher, and instead, I'd all but shoved him on the boat home.

I hadn't lied; I had a busy day full of bookings ahead. Not enough to require the use of all our boats—or boat captains. Technically, someone else could have covered the tours, but I always took as many bookings as I could to improve the profit margin for the company.

Which meant I'd be out on the water for eight hours today…and if I didn't call Karen, I'd have the dread of our coming conversation plaguing me.

No, thank you.

I let myself into the office, locked the door behind me for privacy, and pulled up her number on my phone. No part of me wanted to have this conversation, but she'd just keep calling, keep disrupting the happy bubble I'd been trying to hide in with Fisher.

Keep reminding me of all the reasons I couldn't get as close to him as I wanted.

Better to get the call over with.

The line rang three times, and I got ready to hang up, both relieved and annoyed she hadn't answered after I'd psyched myself up for this.

She finally picked up the call. "Are you done avoiding me then?"

"Hello to you too," I said dryly.

"I've called you six times, and your mother twice. Do you really blame me for being annoyed?"

I sighed. "What is it, Karen? We're divorced. I can't imagine why you'd want to talk to me anyway."

"Well, I don't want to," she said. "It's about the company."

I tensed up, all the stress and frustration and straight-up toxic energy of that place hitting me like a kick to the chest.

"Not interested," I said flatly. "I left all that behind."

"So you're not interested in money?"

That caught me by surprise, but it didn't change my answer. "I'm not taking that bait. If money comes with strings attached to your father's company, I want nothing to do with it."

She scoffed. "So that's why you worked thirteen-hour days? Why you hid out at work so much it ruined any chance—" She stopped abruptly. "You know what, I'm not doing this to myself. It doesn't matter if you're interested. Turner Manufacturing is merging with another boat maker and your name is still attached to mine on some of our stock holdings. You'll need to sign off on the sale of them. You'll be compensated more than fairly."

"I thought that was taken care of when we divorced?"

The stock had come as a wedding gift to us both—and an expectation I'd sign away my soul and work there for life. When we divorced, I'd agreed to give up the stock, wanting nothing more to do with it.

"I guess some paperwork fell through the cracks," she said. "It never mattered until now."

"Huh. Okay. Send it over."

"I can't just send it over," she said. "This has to be signed in person and approved by our CFO. You'll need to come here."

"Well, I can't do that. This is the height of our busy season. We're booked through the rest of the summer. Maybe after that…"

"I'd like to be surprised, but you always were a workaholic. It's nice to know it wasn't only a means to avoid me."

I winced, wanting to deny it but knowing it was true. I'd felt so much pressure to prove myself at Turner. I was the only exec without a business degree, my colleagues looked at me as the nepotism hire, and Karen's father was a bully in a tie. I'd pushed myself, worked long hours, bent over backwards to meet company goals. It was never enough. And somewhere along the way, I'd neglected my wife and failed to change even when my marriage began to fall apart.

When the fights started with Karen, it was easier to work just that little bit longer. To stay away and avoid the conflict. So yeah, I had been a workaholic, but a workaholic who'd hated his job.

My life here was totally different. I loved being out on the water. Loved my little boat charter business. I wasn't trying to prove anything, wasn't trying to hide or escape.

"I love what I do here," I said. "It's not the same."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that."

I glanced at the time. "Karen, I've got to head out soon…"

She heaved a sigh. "This can't wait, Hudson."

"I don't know what to tell you."

"Fine, I'll see if there's a way to get this done remotely. But don't be jerking me around, Hud. This merger is important. Dad needs this. Sales haven't been great, not in this economy. I know our marriage ended badly, but please don't punish me for it."

My chest tightened. "I'd never punish you. I don't want that. Our marriage ending was mostly my fault."

She huffed a little laugh. "Not what you said at the time."

"Well, by then, neither of us was saying anything productive."

"I guess."

I'd failed to be honest with Karen about how I really felt. Failed to be a good partner to her when she tried to work on our marriage. I'd been angry and powerless, but it wasn't fair to lay that at her feet.

I should have tried harder to be the husband she needed.

Regret over it still cut sharply, even five years later. Which was why I couldn't go there with anyone else.

Failing anyone like that again, failing Fisher, would be unforgivable.

"Get the papers to me and I'll sign," I said, feeling drained of emotion. More numb now than when we'd begun talking. That she feared I'd intentionally punish her cut through the old anger. I just felt defeated.

"You're sure you can't sneak away for just a day?"

"I really can't. Not for a couple of months."

She groaned. "Okay, I'll see what I can do. Please pick up the phone the next time I call. The sooner this is dealt with, the sooner you don't have to talk to me anymore."

I sighed and dragged a hand over my face, but there was no need to reply. She'd already hung up.

I noticed a text notification. From Fisher.

I left my bag at your place. I'll get it the next time I spend the night. Preferably soon. Hint hint. ;)

My heart fluttered and a smile stole across my face as I read it. Fuck, what was I doing? Fisher was like a healing balm after my tense talk with Karen, but he shouldn't be making me feel better. I didn't deserve to feel better.

Didn't deserve him.

Still, my fingers had a mind of their own, flying across the keypad to fire off the words, I can't wait.

I hesitated over the Send button, then shook my head. Getting in deeper with Fisher right now wasn't the answer. Despite the urge to bury myself in the sunshine and sweetness he exuded, I needed a little time and space to sort out my feelings after this unfortunate blast from the past.

I deleted each word, then unable to think of a response that didn't sound too eager or too much like a blow-off, hit the thumbs-up emoji instead.

I thumped my head on the desk afterward, knowing it was a shit reply and too conflicted to come up with something better.

I had to get my head on straight before I ruined a good thing. A fun thing.

Not just a sexy hookup with a gorgeous man, but a real friendship. One that meant more to me than I'd even realized.

Fisher

"This peach cobbler is amazing, Grandma."

Grandma Rosie ruffled my hair like I was five years old. "It's always been your favorite. Well, that and my biscuits and chocolate gravy."

I attempted to smile with my mouth full of cobbler, and she clucked. "Manners, Fisher Riggins. I don't need you choking to death on your dessert."

I swallowed and mumbled an apology.

I'd waited until the end of lunch rush to come by Rosie's little cafe.

First, I'd spent a good part of the morning sulking that I wouldn't see Hudson again this weekend. I was determined that I'd be back in the man's bed at my first opportunity, though, so after I'd covered a few hours at the shop so Dad could go have coffee with his group of cranky Swallowers who liked to vent about lake traffic, noise that drifted across the lake from Shallow Beach, and anything else they could complain about, I decided to put my free time to better use.

I'd promised Hudson I'd pull together this food fest component for the Dock Hop, and when we got together again, I wanted some good news to report.

I finished off my cobbler at one of the three rickety tables in the place, then went up to the counter, where Grandma Rosie was wiping down the formica surface. The cafe was a bit of a hidden gem, being farther inland, but it was a favorite with locals. Despite the small amount of space, Grandma Rosie managed to sell out of her breakfast specials just about every day.

"All right, what is it?" she asked. "You're hovering."

I smiled. "Sorry, Grandma. I didn't want to interrupt if you were busy."

She tossed the rag down. "Handsome and polite. You must be quite the catch, Fisher."

I leaned against the counter. "I guess I do all right. Not as good as you, Grandma. Your food must inspire love confessions from half the men in this town."

She laughed in delight, her cheeks growing red. She patted her short steel-gray hair. "All right, you've flattered an old lady enough. What's on your mind?"

"It's not flattery if it's true," I teased. "But I came by because I'm helping set up an event, and I thought adding a food festival component would be really great exposure for our restaurants."

I outlined the basics of how the Dock Hop would work, as well as I how I envisioned a food fest, using the outdoor market to set up tables and samples, and charging a fee to "Swallow the best of Swallow Cove."

She chuckled. "Well, that sounds clever, but I don't know how I'd manage that, Fisher. I've got to run my restaurant."

"If you make the samples, say, some of this amazing cobbler, then I'll find a volunteer to work the table during the event."

"Nice answer. Fast on your feet, aren't you?"

I grinned. "I try. Please say yes. I can't honestly say we'd be offering the best you can swallow in Swallow Cove without a taste of Grandma in the mix."

She huffed, but her eyes were twinkling. "I can see you'll keep prattling on at me until I say yes, so go on. Put my name down."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She waved a handkerchief at me. "I can get one of my many grandkids to work the table."

She considered everyone in town a grandkid, but she also had a few biological ones. I wasn't sure which she was referring to, but it didn't really matter. I'd gotten a yes.

I promised I'd return with more details, then hit up Catch of the Day—an easy yes because the owners Tate and Pam Willard had been wanting to set up a food festival in town for some time. The Red Hot Cod Pieces food cart and The Drunken Worm—a tequila bar known for its fantastic tacos—were also a yes, but The Savory Swallow yielded my first no. They were too snobby to offer food outdoors in a fair-like setting. The chef had looked appalled at the very idea of it and rambled on about the integrity of his ingredients.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at the pretentious man's attitude. This was the Ozarks. Folks around here were down-to-earth. Which is why his hoity-toity restaurant was only open during our busy season. It was a hit with tourists, but the rest of us avoided it except on formal occasions.

Add in my disastrous date with Noah, and I was more than happy to cross it off my list of places to eat for good.

I'd need more participants to give the event a fair atmosphere and charge a good price for tasting tickets, though, so I hit the open-air market.

There, local Swallowers were selling jams and jellies, canned fruits, pickled everything, locally made jerky, and so many baked goods that I resisted gorging only because my belly was still full of Grandma's cobbler.

I stopped by each booth I thought might be a good fit for the food fair, sweet-talking the owners one by one, and it was going pretty well until I reached Ruth Marie and Pearl.

Despite their rivalry, their booths were only three feet apart.

"I thought I already committed to this dang event," Pearl said. "A bunch of idiots will come through and then be entered for a prize. Isn't that about right?"

"Yes, but this is an even better opportunity, because it's a food tasting event. Meaning, instead of tourists glancing at your jars of jelly while walking by, they'll get to taste a few samples and then there's no way they'll be able to resist."

Ruth Marie perked up. "That is a good idea."

Pearl scowled at her. "Don't even think about giving out samples of that apple pie jam. I do the jams and jellies. You do the fruits."

Ruth Marie's fists went to her hips, which was a surefire sign we were in for a fight. "Why should you get all the jam glory, Pearl? I made this jam, and it's not really my fault if it's bett—"

"Okay!" I clapped my hands, interrupting before Ruth Marie said words that could not be taken back. "I'm so glad you're both interested!"

"I didn't say that," Pearl grumbled.

I thought fast to come up with a compromise. When these women got territorial, it was no joke. They could hold their grudges just as long as Dad held his against Hudson. And somehow, I was the one they saw as immature.

"So, from a purely marketing standpoint, it does make sense to separate your booths into types of food," I said. "Jellies, jams, and preserves for Pearl, and canned fruits for Ruth Marie."

Pearl smiled smugly. "Exactly. It only makes sense."

Ruth Marie frowned. "But my apple pie jam is delicious."

"It is, which is why I think you should give Pearl some samples to give out on your behalf. Consider it a partnership, all right? We're all here to work together, after all. Not fight amongst ourselves."

Pearl looked as if she'd bitten into a lemon. "You want me to help sell her jam?"

I leaned in close, lowering my voice. "I want you to help Ruth Marie find a home for a product that doesn't really fit with the rest of her line. Your mango jalapeno jam is sure to be the best seller anyway, right?"

She cast a look at Ruth Marie. "Well, I suppose in the spirit of selling Swallow Cove, and not being selfishly motivated by greed like some people—"

"Great!" I interrupted. "This is going to be really awesome for you both. This is a perfect chance to spotlight so much great food people will be dying to come back. I recommend an online order form as well, because there's no way they'll be able to wait until next summer to get a fix."

Ruth Marie chuckled. "Well, aren't you the sweetest thing?"

I smiled wide. "I'm just being honest."

Pearl scoffed, but her lips were twitching with a smile. "You could sell us snake oil and we'd agree." She pinched my cheek. "This cute face is impossible to resist."

I endured a bit more clucking over my dimples before I turned away with a sigh. The only person left on my list was Brooks, and I could blackmail him with family loyalty, rather than my smile, which was good because my face ached at this point.

I started in the direction of the pub when I heard a voice call after me. "Hey, hold up a second!"

Scott, one of the two businessmen interested in the old resort, jogged up to me. "Hey, that was pretty impressive back there."

I glanced toward Pearl and Ruth Marie, who were shockingly chatting happily. "You have no idea."

He grinned. "Oh, I caught enough to get the gist. You have a way with the people around here."

I shrugged. "I've lived here my whole life."

"It's more than that," Scott said, falling into step with me when I resumed walking. "They trust you."

"Yeah, apparently I'm guileless. So I've heard anyway."

Scott smiled. "It's not a bad thing. It helped you sell those old gals on your idea. You know how to work those cute dimples of yours."

His words rubbed me wrong, and I frowned. "I'd never purposely manipulate anyone."

"No, I know." He put a hand on my arm. "That came out wrong. I just mean to say that you're good with people. Likable. Those are the traits someone in our business needs. Usually, I'm the one charming the locals."

"Usually?"

"Well…" He rubbed the back of his neck, looking abashed. "Swallow Cove isn't like a lot of towns around here. The locals don't much like outsiders."

"Ah, yeah, we're a close-knit community," I said, thinking of how Hudson only got a lukewarm acceptance and that was after five years.

He nodded. "I like what you're doing with that food festival though. Smart idea. Real smart."

"Well, it's just part of a larger event. I thought it'd help bring in an element that would help our food vendors."

He nodded. "I think you're right. Could I buy you a drink sometime? Maybe I could pick your brain over how to connect with folks around here? Uncle Leon and I aren't getting real far with our plans, and we can't stay in town much longer."

"I've got a busy weekend," I hedged.

A busy weekend finishingmy project for school, not waiting around to see if Hudson calls.

"Monday then?" Scott persisted.

"Sure, why not? I can pop by The Rusty Hook after six. Do you know that one? It's a little farther from the marina."

"I'll find it." He reached for my hand, giving it a brisk shake. "I look forward to getting your perspective."

Huh. I watched him walk away, then shook my head, bemused. It was surprisingly nice to have someone seek out my opinions, instead of shutting them down.

Nice, too, to have someone want to spend time with me.

Unlike Hudson, apparently, who hadn't given me more than a thumbs-up to my hint about spending the night again soon.