“Thank you.” I take a sip. It’s perfect.
“I prefer a glass of Chablis myself, but whatever floats your boat.” He pours himself a glass of white wine and holds it up to me. “Cheers. On a shitty job well done.”
“Cheers.” I can’t stop a smile from showing and I clink my glass to his. The man is charming and easygoing; it makes me forget my life is in shambles.
“So, why did you move to Brigs Ferry Bay?” he asks.
“My sister’s loser husband left her alone with two kids. It was only right I help her out.”
“That’s very noble of you. I heard it was a bad situation.”
“Sara hasn’t told me too much yet. I think she’s still processing.” I think about how every time I’ve asked her what happened, she shuts down completely. She gets this vacant stare and asks me to watch the kids so she can be alone for a while.
“It must be hard to have your life take a sharp turn when you thought you were going straight.”
“Yep.” I understand that completely.
“I’m sure she’ll come around. Are you two close?”
“We were close growing up. We had shit parents, so I took care of her. But she went off to college and I moved to Alaska. We spoke on the phone a lot, but I always felt like I wasn’t getting the full story. It was weird, you know. She only blabbered on about all the good things going on, when no one’s life is that perfect,” I say before realizing I’m saying too much.
This mere stranger has something about him that makes it easy to talk to him. I’ve never met someone who makes me feel like I’ve known them a thousand years when we’ve only met. But that’s bullshit nonsense, and I need to shut the hell up. I’m probably just tired.
“Maybe she knew you would worry, and she just wanted you living your best life without her problems weighing you down.” He shrugs. “I don’t have any siblings, so maybe I’m talking out of my ass.”
I think about that. He’s probably right. I spent my entire childhood and teenage years taking care of her since our parents couldn’t or wouldn’t. She probably felt guilty and my selfish ass was in love, truly living a happy life. I should’ve taken a stronger interest in her life.
“Maybe. I’m sure she’ll tell me in her own time.” I take another swig of my drink.
“You didn’t have any ties where you were living before?” he asks nonchalantly, but I know this isn’t a nonchalant question. Too bad for him, I’m not going to give him the answers he’s looking for. It’s one thing to spill secrets about my sister. It’s another to talk about Mason.
“Nope.”
“And now you’re working for the fishing company?”
“Yep. I’m a fisherman by trade.”
Of course, he already knows where I work. The rumor mill in Brigs Ferry Bay is very much active and running. I realized this the first time I popped into the grocery store and everyone knew me by name. It’s why I need to keep my secrets close. The last thing I need is a bunch of meddlers.
“You should be used to foul smells then,” he quips.
I can’t help the chuckle that bubbles out as the seriousness of the conversation dissipates. He’s funny. It makes me wish Kian and I could be friends. It would be nice to have someone to share or drink with once in a while, someone who is over three feet tall and doesn’t want mac and cheese for every meal. But friends are never satisfied with one-word answers and gaps in history you refuse to speak of.
“I’m immune to fishy smells. Not what happened in my truck. That was something different.” I screw up my nose at the memory.
“Right?” he says around the lip of his wine glass. I know this move. He’s drawing attention to his mouth. My skin heats. I feel flush, and not from arousal. I’m not prepared for this. I can’t be the object of anyone’s flirtation. No matter how innocent.
I need to get out of here.
“I should go. Thank you for the drink. And for helping me out.” I try to take the last swallow of my drink, but my throat constricts, so I leave it. I stand up and remember I have his shirt on. “I’ll wash this and get it back to you.”
“Don’t worry about it. It looks good on you. Plus, it’ll remind you of how we met.” He’s definitely flirting and that always leads to being asked out. I can’t do this. Not now and maybe not ever.
I don’t answer, just give him a tight-lipped smile and walk out. I shove my hands into my pockets and keep my head down on my way to the truck. I’m losing my shit and I don’t want to risk anyone talking to me.
I hop into my truck that smells heavily of vinegar, but at least it doesn’t smell like shit. I crank the window down all the way. My engine roars to life and the tires squeal when I accidentally press a little too heavily on the gas.
I can’t go home feeling like this, so I drive down the main drag and away from the town. My eyes sting just thinking about how disappointed I am in myself. Mason’s only been gone a year and I put myself in the situation where someone could hit on me. I should’ve told Kian I didn’t want his help and not allowed him to stay.
I slam my palm down onto the steering wheel. Fuck, I miss Mason so much.
I think about what Mason would’ve thought about me being hit on. A sad smile creeps across my lips. He probably would’ve laughed.
Actually, I know he would.
Back when we had our boat, we would always dock at Dutch Harbor to sell our load and there was this buyer for a restaurant in Seattle who would come to purchase our crab once a month. He flirted with me relentlessly, begging me to go out with him. No matter how many times I told him Mason and I were together.
It was awkward as fuck and I begged Mason to meet with him so I could avoid the guy, but he got a kick out of how uncomfortable it made me. Each time he would joke about me going to see my “boyfriend” when we pulled up to shore. It annoyed the fuck out of me.
The last time it happened, the dude actually handed me a key to his hotel. Then he leaned in to kiss me, while his hand grazed my dick. I marched back to the boat, pissed as all hell that I couldn’t punch the guy out seeing as we needed his business. I told Mason what happened, and he laughed his ass off.
However, the last time we saw the guy, Mason did come with me. I thought he’d stake his claim, hold my hand and kiss me, show the asshole that I was taken.
He didn’t.
He strolled up to the douche canoe, grabbed his ass, and said, “I heard you like my slave. I was thinking maybe you’d like to join us. I’ve got shoes that need to be polished and an extra-large butt plug that would look amazing in your ass.”
Dude ran away so fast. We lost the business to another boat, but it was worth it seeing the look of horror on the guy’s face.
That was Mason, though. He had a unique way of dealing with things.
A tear slides down my cheek at the memory. Fuck, I miss him so much.
Kian
It’s been a week since Archer ran out of Focus like his ass was on fire. He’s hiding something. I can feel it. I’ve been trying to pry info from Sara, but she’s as tight-lipped as her sullen brother. All I get are one-word answers and avoidances. I want to know more, damn it.