Chapter 9

Fisher

I waselbow-deep in lures when I heard the bells on the door announce a customer. I shot up from the stepstool where I'd perched, adrenaline surging.

That bell didn't just signal a customer. It signaled escape.

"Sit down," my father said. "I got it."

I groaned as I looked down at the half-full box containing hundreds of lures to be meticulously packaged and priced in tiny plastic bags. I loved working at my father's store. I didn't mind doing what needed to be done. But this? This was flat-out torture.

"When are you going to stop punishing me? I was, like, twenty minutes late!"

Dad gave me a long look. "Try twelve hours. That's how long I had to put up with your mother worrying."

"But—"

"Bzzt!" He cut in over me as he headed for the doorway that would lead to the front of the store. "Twelve hours!"

"But—"

"TWELVE. HOURS!"

"Don't make me move in with Brooks!" I yelled after him.

Dad's laugh was the last I heard of him before he greeted the customers.

It wasn't my best bluff, since Brooks was technically squatting in the pub where he worked, which the owners did not know. Housing was in short supply in Swallow Cove. The choices were buying a million-dollar vacation home or yacht, inheriting a modest family home, lucking into a falling-down shack, or moving into an RV park.

No wonder Hudson lived on a boat.

Right now, any of the above sounded pretty damn good—and well beyond my reach, which Dad knew.

I returned to bagging up lures, eyes going to the clock again and again. Time moved like molasses, thick and sluggish. My foot tapped with excess energy, and I found myself playing mental games just to remain sane.

I bagged up and priced a lure, counting the seconds to see how quickly I could do it. Twenty seconds. Not bad. I did it again, and got my speed up to fifteen seconds.

When I tired of that, I held my breath for as long as I could, then checked the clock. Not even a minute. I did it again and again until I grew lightheaded.

When that ceased to work, I hopped up and did a few jumping jacks.

That's when Dad returned.

At this point, I wasn't sure if time was dragging because I was eagerly anticipating my night with Hudson or if it was simply the tedious work Dad had set me, but I was about to vibrate out of my damn skin.

"What in the hell?" He shook his head. "Nevermind. Go out and deal with these yahoos. They're getting on my last nerve."

I didn't stop to ask questions. Dad had little patience for tourists on a good day, and today he was extra crabby. I was pretty sure he was more irritated about the sleep he'd lost than the fact I'd been late to work.

I emerged into the storefront to find two men dressed in suits despite the triple-digit heat outside. They were a lighter linen material, but still, just the thought of wearing pants and a jacket made me break out in a sweat. Bad enough I was stuck in my date attire of jeans and a clingy silk tee.

"Hey, there." I smiled brightly. "Can I help you find anything?"

The younger of the two, who looked to be thirty at most, approached the counter. "We've never been to Swallow Cove before, so we've been looking around to see what it has to offer."

"Oh, it's a great place," I said.

"It's not like some of these party spots along the Ozarks, huh?"

"No. We tend to get more families and nature lovers around here. We're kind of off the beaten path."

"You are, but…" He leaned his elbows on the counter. "I can see the appeal."

I would have welcomed his flirting last week when I was trying to get Hudson to admit he wanted me, but now that I had my man? I had no interest.

I kept my smile polite but distant. "Let me know if I can answer any questions about the store or town or anything."

He straightened up. "Actually, what do you know about the old resort on the south end of town?"

"Oh, Golden Sands?" I suddenly remembered the conversation I'd overheard at the laundromat. "Are you the guys who were looking at it? I think it'd be great if we could revive that place."

His business partner, closer to fifty and rocking a silver fox vibe, joined him at the counter. "We agree. Could be a great draw for Swallow Cove."

"Well, that's exciting," I said. "Between you and me, most of the older locals don't want more tourists, but the town is struggling more each year. We need a little boost, and a new resort would offer better lodging for visitors."

"You've got a good head on your shoulders," he said, extending a hand to shake. "I'm Leon Wexler, and this is my nephew, Scott."

"Nice to meet you," I said.

Leon glanced around the store. "This is a nice place you got here. A little outdated."

I grimaced. "Yeah, I know. My dad is a bit of a purist about lake life. He doesn't want to cater to the glampers, you know?"

"Glampers?" he said blankly.

Scott chuckled. "Like glam campers. Though that's a nice term for what you all probably think of as spoiled idiots."

I laughed. "Maybe a little, but hey, those spoiled idiots pay our bills."

Leon nodded approvingly. "That they do. Scott, grab a few things so we can let this guy get back to his business."

Scott grabbed an odd assortment of items that I was pretty sure he didn't need: a tackle box, a variety of lures—at least my hard work packaging new ones wasn't for nothing—and a couple of sleeping bags.

If these guys had slept outside a day in their lives, I'd eat my shorts.

I rang it all up, though, figuring that if they wanted to support some local shops while they scouted a business opportunity, we could use the money.

When they left, Dad joined me at the register.

"No more lures," I said. "I'll call or text next time so Mom doesn't worry."

Dad patted my shoulder. "Good man."

"But I am a man," I pointed out. "A grown man. The apartment was supposed to give me some independence. I don't want to report to you every time I have a late night out and crash with Brooks or another friend."

Dad gave me a look as if he knew I was full of shit about where I'd gone last night.

"I heard about your date, Fisher."

"Oh. Well, I didn't—"

He held up a hand. "It's all right. You're entitled to date. I sure don't need to know about your sex life, and neither does your mother. Not until you get serious enough to bring someone to meet us, at any rate. You don't have to tell us what you're up to, Fish, but as long as you're living in close proximity, your mother will notice if you don't come home. So just send her a courtesy message that you may not be home, all right?"

"All right."

"For what it's worth, I understand needing your own space, your own life. I'll try to talk to her about giving you a bit more leeway."

"Okay, thanks."

He nudged me. "Good. Now go home and put on something that doesn't look like you came straight from a one-night stand, huh?"

"How quickly do I need to be back?" I asked, wondering if I had time to shower.

"Take your time. Shower. Nap. Whatever you need. I can manage the rest of the day."

I groaned with relief. "Thank you."

"But don't think you're skipping family dinner tonight. You owe your mother that much."

"I'll be there," I said, already pulling out my phone to text Hudson.

Fisher:

What time do you want to meet up? I've got to eat dinner with the folks. Penance for being out overnight.

Hudson:

Meet me at Swallow Adventures at 8?

Fisher:

Can't wait. Should I pack an overnight bag?

Hudson:

Nah, I'll have you home by midnight, Cinderella.

Fisher:

Does that make you Prince Charming?

Hudson:

Afraid not. I'm the villain in this story, stealing the purity of the maiden fair.

Fisher:

Are you calling me a maiden? My cock is offended!

Hudson:

LOL apologies to Sir Cock. I'll make it up to him tonight.

I repocketed my phone with a grin and checked the time. Only six more hours to go.

Hudson

I was flagging by afternoon and downright exhausted from faking energy for the cruise passengers by the time I dropped the last of them off. It probably didn't help that I'd spent half the night watching a beautiful guy sleep in my bed while trying not to think about how well he fit into my arms. It had been a long time since I'd spent all night with anyone. My hookups were generally simple and uncomplicated.

I met enough people through the boat tours that it wasn't difficult to meet my needs. I had a preference for women when I was younger, but the older I got, the less interested I was in pursuing the same experiences I'd had my whole life. I'd begun to hook up with men, and I found them to be eager, enthusiastic, and often less hung up on the idea of dating and monogamy. Which was perfect for me, because after my shitty marriage, I had no desire to go down that road again.

There was nothing simple about Fisher though. Getting involved with him had the potential to get messy as hell if Boone found out about it.

But as I finally finished work and went by the houseboat to shower and dress in fresh clothes, my heartrate picked up. All day, I'd been fighting to keep my eyes open, but now adrenaline shot through me, giving me a second wind.

Soon, I'd have Fisher to myself again, and I couldn't wait.

I was a greedy, greedy man.

My eyes fell on my bed.

Maybe too greedy.

If I brought Fisher back here, I didn't trust myself to go at his speed. My mind was already conjuring all the ways I'd lay him out and fuck him silly. Afterward, I'd be tempted to let him sleep in my arms again and that way led to disaster.

Pleasure, I could give him. Emotional intimacy? Not a good idea.

Okay, time for a different plan.

I showered and changed, then packed up a few things to take with me.

Sawyer waited in front of the office when I returned to the marina to meet Fisher, and I belatedly remembered that I'd asked him to talk to me before his evening booze cruise. Damn. I really was distracted.

"Hey, boss."

"Hey, there." I attempted to look calm and cool, rather than amped up for a night with one of Sawyer's friends. "I know it's short notice, but I was hoping you'd take the day-time tours for me tomorrow."

"Sure," he said easily, "it'll be a nice change."

"I know flipping your schedule is rough. You already look tired, and it hasn't even happened yet."

"Ah, well, last night I had a rowdy crowd. I'm just exhausted thinking about corralling more drunks tonight. I had to hose puke off the boardwalk before I could go home, and then it took me a couple of hours to unwind…"

I shook my head. "That close to the water, and they puked on land?"

"I know, right?"

Sawyer was obviously tiring of the booze cruise gig, and who could blame him? Wrangling drunks was no one's idea of fun. He'd proved himself to be a responsible boat captain. The fact he'd stayed to hose up puke, rather than leave that to someone else, showed that he took pride in his work.

"Well, hopefully tonight's outing goes better." I logged into our booking system on my phone and forwarded the details for the next day's bookings to Sawyer. "Looks like you've got a family of five all day tomorrow. We'll see if you're as good at babysitting kids as you are drunks."

"Tell me they can swim, at least," he said. "I don't want to add CPR to my weekly report."

"They can, but make sure—"

"They keep the life jackets on. I know, boss. I will."

"Good man."

"Who am I covering for, anyway?"

"Me." I scratched along my jaw. "I'm headed over to Bubble Butte and a couple of other smaller towns farther west to talk to folks about joining the Dock Hop event."

"Ah…"

"Someone pointed out I was a little heavily focused on Swallow Cove."

Even though I didn't say Fisher's name, my neck heated and I fidgeted uneasily, sure that Sawyer could tell I'd had my mouth on his friend.

Sawyer tilted his head, studying me a little too closely. "Fisher was helping you with that project, wasn't he?"

"He was. Er, he still is." I cleared my throat. "I know, ah, the night he was on my boat didn't end well…"

"It's not my place to question it."

"You're his friend though. I imagine that put you in an awkward position. I just want you to know that Fisher and I are good. We…talked."

I did my best to maintain a neutral expression.

Sawyer's lips twisted. He looked skeptical. "All right. I'm glad you two are on good terms, then."

I glanced over my shoulder, hyperaware that Fisher might arrive any minute. "We are."

Too good of terms, really, but hell…could anyone really blame me for being unable to resist the most gorgeous guy in the cove?

Sawyer nodded. "Good to know. Fisher is…"

He hesitated, and that moment of hesitation was just long enough for the man himself to walk up to us.

"Fisher's what?" he called from a few feet away, a wide smile on his face. "Are you gossiping about me, Sawyer? Tsk, tsk!"

My gut flipped at the sight of him, and a smile leapt to my face so quickly I got lightheaded.

Sawyer glanced between the two of us. "No gossip. Just making small talk."

"Uh-huh."

Fisher clearly wasn't buying his explanation, but I was grateful Sawyer wasn't turning the situation more awkward by grilling us. Though he looked like he had more than a few questions about why Fisher was here right now.

"Well, I should get going," Sawyer said after a beat of uncomfortable tension as we all stared at one another. His eyebrow ticked up. "I've got work. And you two probably have things to do as well…"

"Yep," Fisher said cheerfully. "I'll tell you all about it later."

Sawyer nodded once. "All right. I'll be in bright and early tomorrow, boss."

Once he was gone, Fisher turned to me. "Sorry for interrupting."

"That's all right." I lowered my hand to his back, guiding him into a walk beside me. "Are you really going to tell him what's going on between us?"

Fisher looked sidelong at me. "Maybe. Depends on what actually happens. You going to keep your promise?"

"I guess you better get in the boat and find out."

Fisher scrambled into the boat so quickly it made my inner beast puff up in pride. Oh, yeah. This guy wanted me bad.

But not any more than I wanted him.

Anticipation heated my blood as I followed him, darkness falling like a cloak over the lake, stars turning the sky into a glittering landscape that was reflected on the water.

Hell, if this wasn't just about sex, I'd say it was damn romantic.

"Would it bother you if I told Sawyer?" Fisher asked.

I hesitated. "No…"

"He won't blab. None of my friends would. They're trustworthy."

"Even Cash?"

Fisher laughed. "Yeah, even him."

"But you wouldn't be telling your father?"

Fisher cringed. "God no. I'm happy this is happening, but I'm not suicidal."

"Pretty sure it's homicide we'd have to worry about," I said. "As in, my murder at your father's hands."

Fisher's lips twitched. "I guess we'll just have to live dangerously."

My cock, already half hard at the thought of what was to come, twitched in my pants. That thrill of danger, the call of the forbidden, beckoned me, and I climbed aboard, knowing that tonight would change everything.