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 that 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.”