Chapter 20

Fisher

Hudsonand I had conflicting plans until Saturday—both of us overdue for some family time—so I went by The Grocery Spot on Friday evening to pick up some movie snacks for Mom.

Sure, we had snacks at our store, but how would I poll Swallowers about the resort plan there? The G Spot was more exciting. Er, the store that was. I wouldn't know about a real G-spot.

Martha Abbott stopped me in the cereal aisle, giving me the perfect opening to talk. "Honey, can you get down the Special K for me? You're so tall!"

"Sure." I grabbed the box and said casually, "So, what do you think of the plan to revive Golden Sands?"

"Oh, that place? It's a goner, and good riddance." She tossed the cereal box into her cart and pinched my face. "But you're just a doll for helping an old gal out."

I smiled. "Happy to do it."

She trundled off before I could ask follow-up questions, but soon I ran into Dorothy Hubbard, the owner of a junk store outside town called Dorothy's Dusty Box. I tried not to think too hard about what inspired that name.

"Have you heard Golden Sands might be redeveloped?" I asked as we each picked out bags of chips. Dorothy surprised me with her Flaming Cheetos selection. You just never knew what people kept in their cupboards.

"I heard," she said dryly. "Can't say I'm in love with the idea."

"With some money, it could be really nice though, right? I mean, better than having an eyesore sitting so close to the water."

She pursed her lips. "Maybe, but it would depend on who they cater to. Are they going to bring in a bunch of rowdy frat boys who make trouble?"

"That's a good question. So if it catered to a different sort of tourist, say people looking for a quiet lake escape…"

She nodded slowly. "Maybe I'd be all right with that. It is awfully ugly just crumbling away. It's a shame."

I wasn't sure Dorothy was really qualified to comment on what was ugly, given her store was a big concrete building that looked like a hoarder's paradise, but I wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I had her on the hook now.

"It is such a shame," I agreed solemnly.

Dorothy took her chips and moved on to crackers. I tapped a few notes into my phone before grabbing a bag of Sour Cream and Onion Lays. Maybe I shouldn't be casting stones about chip tastes. My dad detested these and said they stunk up the whole house, but I was addicted.

I stopped a few more shoppers as I added to the shopping basket hanging on my arm, but Dorothy remained the most positive interaction I'd managed.

I'd talked to a few other people in town, too.

Chester and Ansel were a hell no to any and all types of resort revivals, but then I'd expected that.

But some of the business owners were more practical, at least. Mimsy and Pipsy Reynolds, the seventy-year-old twins who ran The Dirty Hoe—a gardening store—were a maybe. And Poppy's dad at Little Clay Pot was in favor of anything that brought in more customers. As was Danny Wray, who ran our coffee shop, Just The Sip. His exact words were, "Anything that brings more hot men to town is A-okay by me."

Danny was out and proud, and most of his drink names made that obvious even when he wasn't wearing T-shirts that said things like, "Is it gay in here or is it just me?"

I finished updating my latest notes and rounded the aisle, nearly running into Judy Nash, aka Hudson's mother.

My heart leapfrogged and my brain short-circuited as we came face-to-face. Crap! As long as I acted normal, she had no reason to suspect anything, right?

"Mrs. Nash!" I exclaimed. "So good to see you. How are you today? How's Hudson? I haven't seen him in so long. Ha."

Judy squinted at me, seeming a little taken aback by my enthusiasm, and no wonder. I sounded like a manic squirrel. I wasn't built for lying, as my friends had pointed out already.

"Fisher, dear, so nice of you to ask after Hudson. I thought you two were working on the Dock Hop together?"

"Oh, yes. We are."

"But you haven't seen him in a long time? Doesn't he fuel up at your father's shop?"

At least I had a handy answer for this. "He and my dad don't exactly get along."

"Ah, yes. Boone and his silly grudge." She tsked. "Some men never grow up. Er, no offense, dear."

"None taken. I agree, actually."

Hudson's voice rang out. "They're all out of the—" He stopped, eyes widening. "Fisher. You're talking to my mother. Hello."

I smiled because at least I wasn't the only awkward weirdo here.

"Yep! I was just polling Swallowers about the resort plan." I held up my phone as if it were evidence of my work. "What are your thoughts, Mrs. Nash?"

"Well, I don't know." She pursed her lips. "The Weekend Hookers like using that hole."

I pressed my lips together, carefully not looking at Hudson for fear I'd crack up at his mother's phrasing. But Hudson did the job for me.

"Momma." He snorted. "That makes it sound like you all really are hookers."

"We are." She blinked and then smacked his arm. "Oh, Hudson, grow up! Fisher knew exactly what I meant."

"I did," I said as solemnly as I could. "But to clarify, you mean the fishing area behind the resort."

"That's the one. The fish always bite there, and it sure would be a shame to lose access."

"Kind of a selfish reason to object to the resort," Hudson said.

She huffed. "Well, maybe."

"That's all right. I'm just taking any and all input. If the resort made the fishing area available to the public, would that help?"

She wrinkled up her nose. "Maybe a little, but it wouldn't really be a secret. I imagine the tourists would go there."

I nodded. "Okay, gotcha."

"I still say it's not enough to outweigh the good that resort would do," Hudson grumbled, and I smiled, heartened that he was supporting my views even when his mother didn't.

"Well, I didn't say I was totally against it," she said. "Most of the Weekend Hookers are, but I reckon there are other places to fish. If it would help the town, and not hinder it, I'm in favor. But you know I'm newer here. I don't really think like most Swallowers. They're very protective of their lives, and I don't blame them. It's so lovely here."

I nodded, tapping her reply into my phone. "I agree with you. That's why I want to take all this feedback to the developers and ensure the resort makes Swallow Cove a better place without changing it too much."

She smiled. "Well, then, you can count on my support. You seem like a good boy with a lot of heart."

"Thanks," I said, though one more person seeing me as a boy didn't inspire confidence. When you grew up in a small town, it was tough to shift folks' opinions of you. But Judy also seeing me that way, even though she was newer to town, was disheartening.

"He's a grown man," Hudson said.

"I know that," she said. "When you get as old as me, you're all just boys. Even you, Hud. You're my baby."

Hudson blushed adorably, and I laughed, somewhat mollified. "As long as you don't call me little Fisher Riggins, we're all good. I swear half the folks in this town think I'm still in grade school."

She chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure they've seen what a good man you've grown into. A handsome one too, hmm? Those dimples."

She reached out to touch my cheek, and Hudson batted her hand down.

"Stop it."

She laughed. "Well, aren't you protective?"

"N-no," he stuttered. "I just think you should respect his boundaries, is all."

Judy looked between us, a calculating expression on her face. Uh-oh. Did Hudson give away our secret? Or was it the way I couldn't stop stealing glances of him, even in front of his mother?

"Sorry, dear. I suppose you get more than enough mothering in this town. I'll save it for Hudson."

She reached up and pinched his cheek instead, making me laugh in delight. Judy was a hoot, that was for sure.

"It was nice running into you, Fisher. You really should say hello more often." Her gaze was warm on me. "Maybe Hudson should invite you over to grill out at his houseboat sometime."

If only she knew.

"Uh…" I glanced at Hudson, found no answers there, and fumbled for a reply. "That sounds fun. Yeah. Well, I better get back to my work." I waggled my phone. "Thanks for your input."

As I passed by, Hudson grazed a finger down my arm, making me shiver. I glanced back over my shoulder to find him watching me go and his mother watching him.

I whipped my head back around, veered to avoid the display of cans I nearly knocked over, and darted down the next aisle.

Totally smooth and not at all suspicious, Fisher. Way to go.

Hudson

I glared down at my phone, lips twisting in a grimace. The schedule had been a mess ever since the second boat went out of commission, and now one of my staffers was sick, making the fragile house of cards tumble down.

"Fuck," I grumbled.

"What is it?" Mom's voice reminded me I wasn't alone.

I returned my phone to my pocket and cleared our plates from her dining room table. We'd opted to have dinner at her place tonight instead of mine. "Nothing. Just work stuff."

"Ah." There was a knowing tone to her voice.

I deposited the plates into the sink. "What?"

"I wish things were going better for you, that's all. So much stress, and for what?"

I raked a hand through my hair, wishing she was wrong. A familiar guilt twisted my stomach into knots. I was going to have to pick up Saturday's booze cruise. There was no way around it.

Which meant canceling on Fisher.

I'd lived this story before, and it hadn't turned out well. I hated the thought of disappointing him. Especially when we hadn't been able to meet up for two days.

Objectively, two days wasn't much, but it had dragged by so slowly. Our Saturday night plans had been the only thing getting me through this shitty week.

Mom patted my back. "I didn't mean to criticize, Hud. I just worry about you."

I kissed her cheek on my way to the door. "I know, Mama. It's fine."

I texted Fisher the news on my way home.

Hudson:

I can't meet up tomorrow evening. I'm sorry.

Fisher:

Oh, damn. Why?

Hudson:

Work.

Fisher:

Still having problems with the schedule?

Hudson:

Unfortunately.

Fisher:

Okay, thanks for letting me know.

That was it? Thanks for letting me know? Canceling plans and putting work first had been a big point of contention with Karen. Fisher seemed fine, but was he, really?

The question nagged at me until I had to see him. Fisher did his laundry at the same time every week, so the next morning, I loaded up some linens and headed for Big Loads.

He looked surprised when I entered the laundromat and took the washer next to him. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

Claudine Witt, one of the servers at The Drunken Worm, a more touristy pub with taco and tequila specials, was folding freshly dried clothes and seemed interested in nothing else. And Adriana Flores, owner of The Grocery Spot, was watching her phone with earbuds in while her clothes went through a dry cycle. Otherwise, it was just us.

"Can't a guy do laundry?" I tried to sound casual, but failed.

Fisher shook his head. "I'm not complaining about seeing you, but why are you really here?"

"Well, I do have a lot of dirty laundry lately." I piled sheets into the washer. "But you're right. I came by to talk to you."

"About what? Did your mom suspect something?"

Oh, my mother had definitely suspected. With all the work problems I'd been wrangling, I'd nearly forgotten the teasing grilling she'd given me about the way Fisher and I behaved at the store.

"She did, but she's accepting my vague evasions for now. No, I just wanted to come by and apologize in person for bailing on tonight."

"It's okay."

"But it's not." My tone grew harsh. "This always happens. My ex, Karen, always said—"

"I'm not your ex," Fisher cut in, tone sharp.

Dumb move on my part, bringing up the ex-wife.

"I know." I swallowed. "We're not a real couple, but if we were…"

"What? You think working late one night would somehow make you a bad boyfriend?"

My heart skipped at the word boyfriend.

Jesus, I was too old for flutters in my stomach. I couldn't feel that way. Not about this wonderful guy who deserved someone who was ready to give him everything he needed.

"It's never just one night I have to cancel. Work is busy, and with how things are going for Swallow Adventures…"

"Busy is fine, Hud. It's amazing you run your own business. I envy that. It's what I want too. I know you think you're the only workaholic here, but if I needed to work, I'd hope you'd understand."

Surprise flared. "Yeah, of course, but that's not the same."

"Why isn't it?" he challenged.

I couldn't find an answer to that.

"You expect things of yourself that you'd never expect of me," Fisher said softly. "I know we're not in a relationship, but if we were, there'd be give and take. Maybe you work late one night, and it sucks, but then maybe I work late another night. But in between those nights, we'd make time for each other. That's what having a life with someone is, right?"

"You make it sound easy, but I can tell you firsthand that it's not."

"I know. I've seen my parents argue plenty of times, but I've also seen them compromise. Seen them find a way forward together, no matter what happens."

"Your parents are lucky to have found each other."

"Yeah, but we're lucky too." Fisher turned away to attend his laundry, a smile playing on his lips, as if we weren't navigating a minefield with this conversation. His tone shifted to teasing. "We're lucky you're the boss at Swallow Adventures."

"Oh? Meaning what?"

"Meaning, I can come along with you tonight."

"What?"

Fisher shrugged. "Sawyer says those booze cruises are a handful. I could come along, help wrangle the passengers while you drive. We can still spend the night together."

"I couldn't ask you to do that."

"Good, because you're not asking. I'm telling you."

I blinked. "Seriously? You want to wrangle drunks? You realize I can't pay you."

Fisher loaded wet laundry into a rolling basket to move it to a dryer. "Oh, you'll pay me. After work, you can reward me in whatever way you think appropriate. Or…should I say, inappropriate?"

Damn. Was it really that easy? The idea of rewarding Fisher for his work had my dick stiffening in my pants.

I shifted to adjust myself. "What do you want tonight as your reward?"

"I want whatever you want," Fisher said, sounding entirely sincere.

My head spun. I still didn't know how we'd gone from me feeling guilty over canceling to me repaying Fisher in sex, but I was fully under his spell.

I leaned in, ready to kiss him right there, before I caught myself. There were still a couple of people in the laundromat with us.

I lowered my voice. "I think I want inside you."

Fisher bit his lower lip. "Fuck yeah, I want that too. Been wanting it since I was sixteen."

"Jesus, don't say that. You were jailbait at sixteen."

Fisher grinned. "I'm not jailbait now."

"All right."

"All right? So I'll work the boat with you and then…?"

My voice was low, practically a growl, as I said, "And then I'll work you over the way we've both been wanting."

"Fucking finally," Fisher murmured, face flushed with arousal. If I didn't get out of here, I was going to bend him over a washer, public place be damned. "It's going to be perfect."

"It won't be like your fantasies," I warned.

"I know." His gaze locked on mine. "It'll be even better because it's real."

I worried about how much I craved this man. It couldn't be healthy to be so addicted to him when it couldn't last forever. But when he said things like that, who could blame me?