by Emily Bishop
Chapter Six
Shane
I was out of bed before sunrise, as I was every morning. It was disconcerting to wake up on a Monday morning, knowing that I wasn’t going to the office. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt this way since I’d arrived back in Mystic, but it was safe to say that I was still having withdrawal symptoms from a lifetime of leading the pack in the race.
Even though I wasn’t going into the office, that didn’t mean I couldn’t get some work done. I answered all my pending emails and replied to all the inquiries from the EPA, but by the time that was all done, it wasn’t even noon yet.
Wandering around the house aimlessly, I discovered the old fishing rods. I decided to head down to the slip to revive the tradition that I had started with my mother all those years ago.
One of my fondest memories of our time in Mystic was fishing with my mother. The slip next to the marina was quiet then because everyone else was off keeping the economy going. That was probably also close to the last time that I wasn’t one of those people, frantically running in the rat race. Even if the deck had been stacked in my favor from the very beginning.
I was surprised to find a lone, familiar figure angling from the slip when I arrived. Fiona’s dark hair was pulled back in a thick braid, and her delectable little body was clad in cut-off jean shorts and an oversized tank top. Aviator glasses protected her eyes from the glare.
She started when she heard me approaching, yanking back on her fishing rod.
“Fancy meeting you here,” I greeted her and set down my tackle box.
“Of all of the gin joints in all of the world,” she returned, a wry smile playing on her lips.
Sunlight glinted off the water, reflecting wavy lines of illumination on her face. It gave her an ethereal look. Like if I blinked or looked away, she’d disappear like a forgotten dream.
“This makes two,” I said as I started rigging my gear.
She looked at me over her shoulder, her brows furrowed. “Two what?”
“Two things we have in common.” I smirked.
“Yeah? What’s that?” Fiona returned her attention to her line but angled her body slightly toward mine.
I knew it. She felt it, too. That pull between us. The tension.
“Building boats and fishing,” I told her, taking up a space close beside her on the narrow slip.
“How did you know that I build boats, too?” she asked, looking up from the water.
I tugged a sand worm onto my hook. “Something Drew said the other day.”
“Fucking Drew,” she muttered under her breath, but I was close enough to hear her.
“Is that supposed to be a secret or something?” I asked.
A deep, rosy hue crept onto her cheeks. “No, I just, I don’t know. I don’t know why he’s talking to you about me.”
“I told you, he suggested that we should go out,” I said simply, omitting the fact that he’d also told me that I wasn’t her type.
“He’s such an ass sometimes!” she burst out.
Was the thought of going out with me that fucking revolting to her?
“For suggesting that you go out with me?” I asked.
She worried her lower lip, shooting a quick glance at me before blushing and returning her gaze to the water. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. It’s just that I don’t even know your name. I know nothing about you. Why would he even suggest that?”
“He’s your friend. You would probably know the answer to that question much better than me.” I then extended my hand to her. “And my name’s Shane. Shane Perkins.”
She stared at my hand for a beat before placing her own soft hand in it. “Fiona Hall.”
I was surprised by the strength of her grip. Women’s handshakes were usually relatively limp. Fiona’s was not. Of course, it took my mind no longer than a millisecond to conjure up an image of that same grip around my dick.
I willed the image away before it could take hold and forced myself to focus on the conversation instead. “See? Now you know my name. What else do you want to know?”
“I don’t know, where are you from?” she asked, dropping my hand.
“At the moment, I live in Houston,” I answered, missing the feel of her hand in mine almost immediately.
“What do you do there?” Her gaze lingered on mine before she tore it away and focused on something on the horizon.
“I run the family business.” I kept my answer purposefully vague. If she noticed, she didn’t mention it.
“Are you in Mystic for business or pleasure, then?”
“A bit of both. I’m taking a break, but I do have some work to do here.” Work which wasn’t getting done nearly as efficiently as it ordinarily did, as evidenced by the fact that I was fishing on a Monday morning.
Fiona paused, and I took the opportunity to turn the tables. “Drew mentioned that you moved here when you were seven.”
“Did he? Wow, he’s just a well of free-flowing information, isn’t he?” Sarcasm laced her tone.
“It was just a comment in passing,” I told her. “Where did you move from?”
“Near Houston, actually. Conroe.” A soft smile played on her lips, as if she was replaying fond memories. Then her expression turned bitter.
Interesting. “Why did you move?” I asked.
She shut me down almost immediately, clearly avoiding a sensitive topic. “It’s a long story.”
I didn’t push her for more than that. I was actually enjoying getting to know the mysterious and stubborn girl that had become a bit of a thorn in my side since I’d arrived. I didn’t want her guard shooting back up, the way it was at the store.
She seemed more relaxed out at the water, less volatile than when she had been with me in the few short weeks since I’d arrived in Mystic. Her shoulders didn’t seem as tight. She wore a soft, easy smile, and she didn’t shy away from me when things got personal.
I noticed, from the corner of my eye, that she carefully studied my profile, like she was trying to figure out what to make of me. Or maybe she was just checking me out. I didn’t have a problem with either but I was partial to the latter, considering the fantasies I’d had about her.
Something tugged on her line, drawing her attention to the water. She gasped and squealed in delight. It was fucking adorable.
“Yeah! I got a bite before you.” She stuck the tip of her tongue out at me with a smile and maneuvered her reel, walking to the very edge of the slip.
I was behind her in an instant. Everything that I had seen from her pointed to the fact that she would resent my trying to help her but I wasn’t going to let her fall in the water or hurt herself if there was too much of a struggle.
The heat from her back radiated on my chest. I was so close to her that my dick was only inches away from her ass. A sweet, citrusy scent wafted from her hair, intoxicating me.
She was skillfully reeling in her catch, so focused on it that I doubted that she even noticed how near I was to her. In her excitement, she also didn’t seem to notice the metal eyelet bolted into the floor of the slip and hooked the toe of her shoe right underneath it.
As if in slow motion, I saw her angle shift and her body start tumbling toward the smooth surface of the water, her eyes wide and disbelieving.
Without conscious thought, I reached for her, snaking one arm around her waist and pulling her to my chest. My other hand grabbed her fishing rod and held it firmly so that she wouldn’t drop it. There wasn’t time to savor the feel of her body tucked against mine. I was too focused on getting her catch reeled in before she and the rod joined it in the water.
The fish fought for another couple of minutes before I finally managed to wrestle it out of the water. I laughed and punched the air victoriously, feeling just as happy as I had been every time that I caught something as a child.
“Is that...” Fiona trailed off, peering at the olive green back of the fish that blended in to its silvery sides, floundering at our feet. “Is th
at a bonefish?”
I lowered to my haunches, and Fiona mirrored my movement, excitement shining in her bright blue eyes.
“Yeah, I think so. They’re rare around here though, aren’t they?” If memory served, which it always did, bonefish were a species native to the extensive flats of Florida and the Gulf of Mexico and weren’t commonly found in this region.
Fiona nodded and clapped her hands. “They are. Want to capture the rare moment before we throw it back?”
My eyes widened, and I stared at her, waiting for the second head to grow. “You want to throw it back?”
“Of course,” she said, fishing her phone from the pocket of her jeans and snapping a few quick pictures. “I almost always catch-and-release.”
“Who would have known that underneath the tough exterior lay a soul that was gentle and compassionate?” I teased.
Fiona rolled her eyes but giggled softly. “I don’t have a tough exterior. I just know boats better than you do. And I’m not shy about it.”
I smirked, shaking my head. “We’ll see about that.”
She carefully unhooked the fish without harming it, her nimble fingers making quick work of preparing the creature to get it back to the water.
“Help me get him back in, will you?” She smiled up at me once she was done with the hook.
“Sure.” I struggled to get a grip on the slimy fish for a second but together, we finally managed to get it back to its natural habitat with barely a splash.
“That was awesome!” she exclaimed, watching the spot where the fish disappeared. She turned to face me. “Thanks for your help.”
“For keeping you out of the water or getting the fish back into it?” I joked.
A genuine, radiant smile lit up her eyes—and did other things to my body. “Both, I guess. He was quite the fighter, wasn’t he?”
“He was,” I agreed, then couldn’t resist teasing her just a little. “Just like the woman who caught him.”
“I’m not a fighter,” she protested laughingly. “I only fight against wrong choices.”
“Or what you perceive to be wrong choices,” I added with a grin.
“Can I help it if my perceptions are right?” Her hand went to her lean hip but she was still smiling while she argued.
“Only time will tell.”
Time would tell that she was wrong but I’d learned better than to point that out to her.
“Yeah, I guess it will,” she said, then glanced at her tackle box. “Thanks again for all your help but I think I’m done for the day. It doesn’t get any better than that catch.”
“Agreed,” I said, though I could think of one better catch. It had long dark hair and startlingly blue eyes and was staring at me. I had to give it one more shot. “What do you think the odds are of catching that this far up?”
“Apparently, better than you might think,” she mused.
“What’re the odds that you’d go out with me to celebrate?” I asked, suddenly feeling more nervous than I had back when I was about to lose my virginity.
I fixed my gaze on hers, laughing when she gave me her answer.
She smiled. “They’re apparently better than you might think.”
Chapter Seven
Fiona
“I’m here, Daddy!” I called out, stepping into my childhood home two days after finally agreeing to go on a date with Shane.
The date was scheduled for later that night but I had the day off, so I had plenty of time to visit with my dad and get ready later. Especially since I’d spent the past two days agonizing about what to wear and already had my outfit laid out on my bed.
The television in the living room blared Family Feud, and the house smelled like melted cheese and chilies. I assumed that my dad was in the kitchen making nachos. I made my way in that direction. Chips and cheese sounded like a heavenly combination right now.
Although maybe loading up on Mexican food wasn’t the best idea before going on a date. I couldn’t remember the last time that I’d even gone out with a guy, much less one that I was this excited about. There was something about Shane, something that my body reacted to in a way that surprised me. It grew stronger each time that I saw him.
He was interesting guy. An insanely hot interesting guy at that, and I had caught myself thinking about the way his arms had wrapped around me on the slip more often than I cared to admit, since that morning. I was looking forward to getting to know him better, and I was hoping that there would be more of his arms around me.
My body buzzed with excitement at the thought, but it would have to wait. I always spent time with my dad on my days off, and I wasn’t changing that just so I could daydream about a virtual stranger.
I made it into the kitchen and found my father making a serious tray of nachos. Yum. My stomach grumbled, and my father looked up from his junk food masterpiece.
He laughed. “How’s my girl doing? Other than being hungry?”
“I’m okay,” I said, pulling him into a hug.
He slid a chair out for me at the kitchen island. I hopped onto it and popped a nacho into my mouth. Screw it. I was hungry and the food smelled divine.
“How are you?” I asked between bites.
“Always better when you’re home,” he said, sinking into his seat and popping the top of his beer. “Want one?”
He nodded at his beer, but I shook my head. “Nah, I’m sticking with soda for now.”
“How was fishing the other day?” My dad had instilled in me my love for fishing and boating at a young age, and they were both hobbies that we still shared.
When I was growing up, he would often wistfully remark that he wished that my mom was around to teach me more ‘girly hobbies,’ but I preferred fishing to the one ballet class he’d signed me up for.
“Oh, it was great! I caught a bonefish. Can you believe that?” I looked forward to seeing his reaction.
His chest swelled with pride, and a wide grin split his face. “No kidding? Wait until I tell the guys that my girl caught something they haven’t yet.”
“I’ll send you some pictures to show them,” I offered, pulling out my phone to show them to him.
He let out a low whistle. “Great catch. It’s even a decent size.”
“Yeah, and it was a fighter all right.” I scrolled through pictures, coming across one that had half of Shane’s face in it.
“Who’s that?” my dad asked, curiously eyeing the photo.
“That’s Shane.” I blushed. I was going to tell him about my date anyway but talking to my dad about boys was still uncomfortable.
Thirty or not, I didn’t think I would ever get used to talking to my dad about the men I dated. It was one of the few reasons why I was glad that I didn’t date very often.
“Who’s Shane? He from around here?” He settled in for his interrogation.
“He’s just a guy who’s been around the store a few times. He also builds boats, so he’s come in to buy supplies. I ran into him while I was fishing. He’s not from around here.”
“Where’s he from?”
“Houston,” I answered, realizing that we were quickly reaching the limit on what I knew about Shane.
“Houston,” my dad repeated, staring out of the kitchen window contemplatively. I knew that his mind had gone straight to the memories of what had happened the last time he had been to that particular city. They weren’t pleasant memories.
It was time to come clean about the date. Maybe that would distract my dad from going down memory lane. “We’re going out tonight.”
“You are?” His eyes came to rest on mine. “Where is he taking you?”
“I’m not sure, he just told me dress comfortably and wear flat shoes,” I admitted.
“At least it sounds like your date will be more adventurous than dinner and a movie,” he said. “Right up your alley.”
“Maybe.”
“What does he do for a living?” my dad asked.
I sighed, hating that I didn’t a
ctually know. “He runs his family’s business.”
“Yeah? What line is that in?”
“I don’t actually know. But that’s the point of the date, to get to know each other better. All that I know is that his name is Shane Perkins, and we have some of the same hobbies. Drew put him up to asking me out.”
My dad’s face fell, and he blanched.
“Perkins?” he stammered.
“Yeah, why?”
“Butch Perkins’ boy’s name was Shane.”
My heart started slamming into my chest, and my stomach rolled. Butch Perkins was the man who ran my dad out of business when I was a child.
My dad had always been a very hardworking man who had poured all his heart and soul into his oilfield service company. It used to run tools out of Conroe, where I was born and my mom was buried. His company had worked almost exclusively for the rigs that Perkins Enterprises owned.
One day, just after my sixth birthday, Butch Perkins decided to go with a different service company out of the blue, without even informing my dad. There had been no warning, and no time to brace himself for the hit.
My dad tried to save the company, but a year later it went bankrupt, pushing us to move back to my dad’s hometown of Mystic.
Butch Perkins was the reason we had lost everything. Saying his name in my house was like cursing. Shane couldn’t possibly be his son, could he?
“Maybe it’s a different Shane Perkins,” I blurted out. I mean, sure, the guy had irritated the heck out of me a few times, but he wasn’t evil. Butch Perkins was pure evil.
“Maybe, but a Shane Perkins from Houston who runs his family business? I’d put money on it that the family business he runs is Perkins Enterprises.” My dad’s voice was lower than usual.
“I have to cancel our date,” I murmured, not knowing what to think about the latest development.
“Whether you go or not is up to you, sweetie,” he said.
My dad had been bitter and angry for a long time after everything had been taken from him, but since his retirement a couple of years ago, he’d been trying to let go of all the negative emotion he had been hanging on to.