Feels like Rain (Lake Fisher Book 3)

by Tammy Falkner

  I shrug. “I have no idea.” And my parental credit actually diminishes more than I ever thought it could. And it was pretty low to start with.

  “You could get him a fishing pole. One of those kid poles that are lightweight.” She picks one up and tests the weight of it. “I think he’d want a big kid pole and not one of the ones with the cartoon characters on it. What do you think?” She holds it out to me.

  “A fishing pole,” I say, and it actually sounds like a good idea. I take it and pick a simple reel to go with it.

  “Where’s he going to sleep?” she asks me.

  I scratch my head. “In my tent, of course.”

  “I know that, but where?”

  “In the tent,” I say again, not understanding.

  “Where do you sleep?” she asks. “In a sleeping bag?”

  “No, I went for comfort and got an air mattress,” I admit.

  “Fancy.” She grins. “So does it have enough room for him too?”

  “I guess it depends on how much space he takes up.”

  “Well, kids tend to become all elbows and knees when they sleep, so if you have room, you might think about getting him his own twin mattress. Your tent is pretty big, right?”

  I know she has seen my tent. It’s one of the big walk-in tents with sectioned rooms. “Big enough.” I walk over and pick up a twin-sized air mattress.

  “You’ll need sheets,” she says. She grabs my arm and drags me to the tiny little housewares section the tackle shop boasts. She gets some generic sheets, a blanket, and a pillow.

  “You’ll need to wash these before using them tonight.”

  I nod. I can do that.

  Suddenly, she freezes. “What’s your money situation like?” she asks. She lowers her voice. “I mean…can you afford all this?” She looks around to be sure no one can hear us.

  “I can afford it.” The Jacobsons pay a fair wage, and I save almost everything I make. I have been giving my mother just over half of my earnings ever since I got a paycheck, even though she told me I didn’t need to, but it felt like the right thing to do. The only thing I really have to buy is food and supplies. My tent spot is free since I work in the compound. “Of course I can afford it.” I pretend to scoff, offended, as I pick up a big stuffed fish. “Do you think he’d like that?”

  She shakes her head but she’s grinning. “No.”

  I chuckle as I put it back. “What else?” I look around.

  She walks over to the small area in the store where the toys and games are located and picks up a couple of decks of cards and tosses them into the basket too.

  “You think he’ll want to play poker?” I say.

  “Poker,” she says as she rocks her head from side to side, “I doubt it. More like Go Fish.” She grins at the look on my face. “You do know how to play Go Fish, right?”

  “I can google it,” I say. Then she makes a face at me. “What?”

  “Nothing.” She smiles. “I think you’re adorable.”

  “Well, I think you’re sexy as fuck,” I whisper back to her.

  She freezes, and immediately I worry that I just made a mistake. Then she keeps walking like nothing happened. Suddenly, she turns around and marches back to me, stopping so close to me that I can feel the heat of her and smell her lemony scent. She sticks her finger in my face and glares at me. “You don’t get to do that,” she says.

  “Do what?” I ask. I have no idea what I did wrong.

  “You don’t get to turn me on in the middle of the store by firing stupid compliments at me.” She glares some more, which makes me smile. She’s so indignant right now that it’s funny.

  “My comment wasn’t a compliment,” I clarify. “It was the truth.” I reach behind her and grab a tub of bait worms from the shelf. My arm slides along hers as I reach. “And its purpose wasn’t to titillate you. It was just to tell you how I feel.”

  She scrunches up her face. “You just used the word titillate in a sentence. Are you for real?” She backs up to look at me like she has never seen me before.

  “I read. And I know things,” I fire back. I stick my tongue out at her, which makes her laugh. I reach out and tug a lock of her hair. “And you are sexy as fuck.”

  She stops moving, closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Trying to catch my breath,” she whispers back to me. “So shut up for a minute.” She presses the index fingers of both hands against her thumbs like she’s meditating, and hums for a second.

  “Umm…”

  She holds up a finger, her eyes still tightly closed. “Hold on,” she says.

  I smile as I watch her. I look down the aisle to find Shy staring at us. He gives me a grin and a thumbs-up sign.

  “Why do you have to catch your breath?” I ask her. I watch as the hair on her arms stands on end, goose bumps shoot up to her shoulders, and a flush covers her chest.

  She opens her eyes and stares at me.

  “Oh,” I say as understanding dawns. I grin. I let my eyes roam up and down her body. “You’re turned on right now.”

  “Shut up,” she says, and she turns on her heel and marches toward the front of the store.

  She sets the basket on the counter and I lean close to her. “Tell me I’m wrong,” I say quietly, my mouth right next to her ear. A noticeable shiver creeps up her spine as goose bumps travel across her chest. “You can’t,” I pronounce triumphantly.

  “Shut it,” she hisses. Her cheeks turn even pinker and she’s so damn cute I can barely stand it.

  Shy looks from me to her and back, over and over, a crazy grin on his face as he rings up all my purchases.

  “You going to have a visitor at the lake, Ethan?” he asks as he analyzes all the purchases, putting them in bags.

  “My son is coming to spend the night,” I tell him, a bit of pride in my voice.

  “Glad to hear it.” He’s still looking from me to Abigail and back. “I hope you guys have a good time.” After I pay him, he leans casually on the counter. “Y’all have a good day, you hear?” He laughs to himself.

  Abigail’s cheeks are still so pink that she looks like she’s been in the sun too long.

  She marches out in front of me, and Shy calls my name just before I leave.

  “Ethan.”

  I turn back.

  “I’d give just about anything to know what you were whispering that got her all twitterpated.” He chuckles.

  “I told her she’s sexy as fuck,” I say with a wink.

  He raises his brows. “That’s all it took?” He scratches his stomach. “If I tried that on my wife, she’d probably tell me to go mow the grass or something so I can expend some energy.” He laughs loudly and waves goodbye.

  I find Abigail standing next to my truck, where she’s tapping her toe, her arms folded in front of her body. “You okay?” I ask her.

  I take the bags and load them onto the front seat of the truck. She stands there, saying nothing.

  “How long are you going to be mad at me?” I finally ask.

  “I’m not mad.”

  I let my eyes roam up and down her body. “I might have been away from women for a really long time, but I know when one is upset.”

  “I’m not upset.” She sniffs. “You just surprised me, that’s all.”

  I walk closer, pushing her back against my truck with my body ever so slowly. She steps back until the truck braces her, and my body lines up along hers, all my hard parts touching all her soft parts in exactly the right places. She lifts her hands to rest on my chest, like she’s going to push me away. But she doesn’t push me away. She does quite the opposite. Instead, she softens her hands against my chest.

  She glances toward the front window of the store. “What are you doing?” she asks, her gaze checking to see if Shy is watching.

  I really don’t give a fuck if he’s watching or not.

  “I’m not sorry for telling you how I feel about you,” I say. I
lean down and kiss her cheek, holding her gently against the truck. Her pulse beats rapidly at the base of her throat; I can see it pounding beneath the tender pink skin. “I do think you’re sexy as fuck, and I want to move this relationship forward so bad that I can barely stand it.” I punctuate my sentence with a kiss to the side of her neck. “But I’m not sure how accepting you’re going to be when you find out who I really am, so I can’t do what I really want to do.”

  “What do you really want to do?” she asks quietly, her eyes lifting to meet mine. I see the world inside those eyes, or at least everything that’s great about it. I see her kindness, her empathy, and I see that she wants me just as much as I want her.

  “I want to make love to you. But I’d kind of like for you to know who I am, first.” I press a kiss to her temple. “That okay with you?”

  She nods, and she leans forward to bury her face against my shirt. She sucks in a big breath, and I palm the back of her head, holding her close to me. “Is Shy watching?” she asks quietly, her voice muffled against my shirt.

  I let out a chuckle. “I’d bet my life savings he’s in there taking pictures.”

  She grins. Then she stands up on her tiptoes and kisses my lips. It’s a quick move, one meant to show love more than passion. But still I have to take a deep breath when she does it, or I’m afraid I’ll lose my shit. “At least he got a good show,” she says.

  I step back from her and adjust the fit of my jeans. She catches the action and raises her brows at me.

  “Something wrong?” she asks, a grin teasing her lips.

  “Everything’s right.” I tuck that lock of hair behind her ear. “For the first time in a really long time, everything is right.”

  She grins at me as she gets into her car.

  “I’ll pick you up at twelve-thirty!” I call. She throws up a hand in acknowledgement. She waves at Shy, who waves back. Then as she backs out of her spot, I see him motion me toward the door. I walk back in.

  He throws a bag in my direction, and I catch it in the air. “You’re welcome,” he says with a wink.

  When I get to the truck, I open the bag and find a box of condoms. I lay my head back and laugh, and I look back through the window to find him giving me another thumbs-up. I flip him the bird, but secretly I’m grateful. It’s kind of nice having people who care about me.

  It has been a long time since I’ve felt worthy of kindness, and I kind of like it.

  17

  Abigail

  Ethan is nearly vibrating when he picks me up at the cabin to go to the ballgame. His knee jumps as I get into the truck. “Do you think this truck is okay for him to ride in?” he asks. His thumb beats a rhythm on the dashboard.

  I look around. “I think it’s fine. Why?” I reach back and grab my seatbelt, pulling it on.

  “It’s kind of old,” he says.

  “But it’s safe, right? It doesn’t need brakes or new tires or anything that could cause an accident?”

  He shakes his head. “No, it’s in good shape for what it is.”

  I lay my hand on his upper arm, and I see him visibly try to force himself to relax. “It will be fine.” Then I remember. “Wait… Does it have three seatbelts?” I point to the middle seat. “There’s one for the middle?”

  His brow furrows. “Yes, it has one in the middle.”

  “Oh, good,” I say. “I’ll sit there on the way back.”

  He finally grins. “You’re itching to sit next to me, aren’t you?” He bats his lashes at me playfully. “You’ve been trying to figure out how to get close to me for a really long time.”

  I hold up one finger. “While that is somewhat true,” I say, “I refuse to admit it under these circumstances. Instead, I’m going to take one for the team and sit in the middle on the way back. Mitchell will probably be in a booster seat anyway.”

  “Booster seat,” he repeats. “Forgot about those.”

  I lay my hand on his arm again. “It’s going to be okay,” I say emphatically.

  “If you say so,” he says as he blows out a heavy breath. “I guess we had better get going.” He lets his eyes slowly trail up and down my body. “You look really pretty, Abigail.”

  I feel the heat as it creeps up my cheeks. “Thank you. You look pretty handsome yourself.”

  He looks down at the jeans and t-shirt he’s wearing. “Shy gave me a team t-shirt,” he admits. He reaches over and opens the glove box, and he pulls out another. “He gave me one for you too.” He thrusts it in my direction.

  “Well, that was nice of him.” I think about it. “When did all this happen? After I left?”

  He shakes his head. “No, I went back. Got a few more staples. For tonight. In case Mitchell gets hungry.”

  More like in case he gets hungry and I don’t know him well enough to know what to feed him. I hope he had the presence of mind to call his mother for advice on that.

  “That was a good idea. Did you wash the sheets and set up his bed?”

  He nods. “I did. It’s all ready.”

  I grin at him. “Except for you.” I let my eyes wander around on his face. “You are so not ready.”

  “I’m ready for him. I’m not ready for the rest of them.” He blows out a breath.

  “Well, get ready, because it’s happening.” I motion for him to put the truck in gear. “Let’s do this thing”

  He backs out, shifts all the way through the upper gears as we gain speed, and then he reaches over and takes my hand in his. He gives it a squeeze as he stares at the road in front of us. I squeeze back, and he looks over at me and grins. “I really like you,” he says.

  “I really like you too,” I reply, my heart beating faster in my chest. And it’s true. I do like him. I like him a lot. I think I like him more than I should, and that’s the part that scares me.

  His old truck rattles as we pull into the parking lot. It’s a gravel lot next to a recreational league ball field, with bleachers at the two top corners of the field. The bleachers are metal, and they don’t look like they’ll seat that many people.

  We both get out and I say, “I’m going to go change my shirt.” I point toward the field restroom and don’t wait for him to acknowledge that I’m leaving. As I walk across to the restroom, I get some stares and see people whispering behind their hands to one another. I go into the stall and I pull my shirt off over my head. As I get ready to pull the new one on, I hear two voices as more women walk into the bathroom.

  “I can’t believe he has the nerve to show up here after what he did,” one of them says. The voice is nasally and high. “And he brought a woman with him. Like he just wants to shove her in Imogene and Derrick’s faces.”

  Who are Imogene and Derrick?

  Another voice chimes in. “He thinks he can just walk right in here and be forgiven.”

  The first speaker gives a very unladylike snort. “Last time I checked, murder wasn’t a forgivable offense.”

  Murder?

  The second voice chuckles. I pull my new shirt on and tuck it into my jeans. Then I flush the toilet to announce my presence and walk out into the sink area so I can see who has been speaking so vilely about Ethan. I find two women, both of whom are probably about my age. They freeze when they see me.

  “Hello,” I say, and I wash my hands.

  They say nothing. They just stare at me.

  I reach for a paper towel. “Enjoy the game.” Still they say nothing.

  I walk back to Ethan’s truck and toss my old shirt through the open window, still reeling over what I’d just heard. Then I stoop in front of the truck’s side-view mirror and try to tame my curls.

  “You never could keep all that hair under control,” a voice calls out.

  I turn and find a man who looks like he’s about my age standing there wearing a broad grin. There’s something vaguely familiar about him, but I can’t place him.

  He mimes sticking himself in the heart with a knife. “You wound me, Abigail,” he says. “I can’t believe
you’ve forgotten me.”

  Suddenly, the playful glint in his eyes tips me off. “Little Robbie? Is that really you?” A grin I can’t begin to control contorts my face. I walk toward him and he sweeps me into a hug.

  “Thank God,” he says. “I thought I was going to have to pull my pants down and show you the birthmark on my ass that looks like Texas before you’d remember me.”

  I shove his shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here?” I can’t pull the grin on my face down, even though I try.

  “My boy is on the same team,” he says.

  Then I realize that he’s wearing a state trooper uniform, all the way down to the mirrored glasses that he has pushed on top of his head. I motion to this outfit. “It’s not Halloween yet, is it?”

  He chuckles. “I’ve become a respectable, upstanding member of society, Abigail.” He pokes his chest out like I’ve seen roosters do. “I graduated from the academy and everything.” He hooks his thumbs in his belt loops and rocks back on his heels. “What are you doing here?” he suddenly asks, like he has realized I’m at the wrong place at the wrong time.

  I point toward the field, where Ethan is standing at the fence talking to Mitchell. Mitchell smiles up at him, and Ethan is bent at the waist, his arms resting on the top rail as he talks to his son. “I came with Ethan,” I explain. “I’ve been staying at the cabin, and he just happened to be at the lake too.” I shrug. But his eyes narrow when heat creeps up my cheeks. I’m probably ten shades of pink by now.

  He raises his eyebrows. “You just happened to come here with Ethan, who just happened to be at the lake the same time as you, and you just happen to suck, Abigail Marshall.” He laughs loudly.

  “You suck more,” I reply, the same way I would have when we were twelve. “Did your wife come with you? I want to meet the unlucky woman who got stuck with you, so I can give her my condolences.”

  He shakes his head. “Trust me,” he says, “she knows full well how unlucky she is. That’s why she left me two years ago.” He suddenly stops and looks into the distance. “She left both of us.”

  Boy, I put my foot in that one, didn’t I? “I’m sorry,” I say for lack of a better response.