Chapters (35)
- Playlist
- Dedication
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- The Lost Fisherman
- Also by Jewel E. Ann
- About the Author
“Yes, what’s it like?” Fisher appeared in the doorway, giving me a serious expression as he sat on the sofa, not too close to me, but definitely closer to me than Tiffany.
“It’s like working for a man child.” I gave him a toothy smile.
Rory and Rose laughed, rocking in the only two rockers on the porch. Tiffany seemed uneasy. Her gaze ping-ponged between me and Fisher.
“Brave girl.” She cringed. “I’d never talk to my boss like that.”
Fisher leaned forward and grabbed a glass of sangria from the tray. “I’ll fire her on Monday.”
“Oh, Fisher. Do you want to go with me to the Jensen’s this week? I messaged them, and they’re out of town this week, but they gave me their door code and said we can stop by anytime.”
Fisher sipped his sangria before rubbing his lips together and nodding. “Let me check my schedule and see how my week goes.”
“Absolutely. I’m really flexible.”
“And by flexible, she means she does yoga.” Rose threw Tiffany under the bus.
Rory laughed. Fisher smirked with slight amusement. Tiffany turned as red as the sangria. And I grinned past my clenched teeth.
“I know you won’t, but I’m fine with you having a glass of sangria if you’d like to try it, Reese.” Rory nodded to the last glass on the tray.
“My mom wasn’t near as cool as your mom, Reese,” Rose said. “It’s the best sangria. Try it.”
“Don’t push her.” Rory shot Rose a look. “She’s accustomed to a more conservative lifestyle, and we need to respect that.” Rory worked overtime trying to convince everyone, including me, that I wouldn’t or maybe shouldn’t try the sangria.
“I’ll try it.” I shrugged.
Fisher leaned forward again and handed me the last glass.
“Thanks,” I murmured, giving him a quick glance.
“Nice scarf,” he said so only I could hear him.
My eyes narrowed a fraction as I sipped my drink.
“Well?” Rory waited for my response to the sangria.
“It’s really good.”
“Easy, lightweight,” Fisher said, eliciting laughter.
I lifted my foot onto the sofa and kicked the side of his leg.
He grabbed my ankle and held it, nearly making me spill my drink as I tried to break free from his grip.
“Now … now … kids.” Rory rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t the least bit surprised to find these two acting like siblings when I got home from California. We have guests. I don’t need you two wrestling around on the floor.”
Fisher released my ankle, but his touch lingered on my skin. I liked his hands on me. So very much.
Tiffany watched us, a slight catty expression pinned to her face.
“I shut off the grill, but everything is ready. Steak. Chicken. Tofu. And in the foil, there’s veggies and potatoes. Want to grab the food off the grill, Fisher?”