31. Fisher
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
fisher
The warm sun beats down my shoulders as I survey the Boothbay public dock.
There’s a man standing on a Grady White, yelling at the two kids on the dock to untie the lines.
With what has to be eight kids on the boat with him, the poor guy probably needed a minute to get going.
Especially since the two women with him are chatting without a care.
I pull back on the throttle, reversing out about ten feet to give the guy room.
Two hours ago, I pulled up to the yellow-lined area and did the drop-and-go with the girls. Now, I zero in on Libby, whose blond hair is blowing in the breeze. She sends me a quick wave and a smile from where she stands by a pink and white Bayliner, chatting away with some old guy.
Fuck. I can tell already that this will not be a simple pickup.
I try not to sneer at the idea of talking to people. For Libby or Sutton—who both need people—I can do it.
I opted out of the bra shopping, because shit, I still shudder at the thought that my little girl is big enough for a bra. Thank fuck Libby is here. With any luck, she used the card I sent with her to buy herself something lacy and pink.
Just the thought of the fashion show I dream she’ll put on behind my locked bedroom door has my blood pumping.
I look from her to Sutton and back again.
The difference in my feelings regarding bra shopping for Libby and for Sutton is remarkable.
My jaw locks as I realize one day some fucker is going to feel about Sutton the way I do about Libby.
My hands tighten on the silver steering wheel as I idle in the harbor.
If I’m lucky, Libby will be the calming force I need when boys come calling on Sutton in ten years.
If not, there’s a good chance I’ll end up hacking into their accounts and sending all their money to charities across the country.
Fuck. I shift on my feet and pull my Boston Revs hat low, blocking out the sun. It’s stupid, hoping that Libby will be around in ten years. She probably won’t make it the ten weeks between Labor day and Halloween.
My heart pangs at the idea of her leaving. But since the beginning, I’ve known that I can’t force her to stay forever. I care about her too much to hold her hostage. Her bright spirit needs to be free.
Libby’s reaction to the puffins was adorable.
I don’t know what it is about the bird that makes people so giddy, but both Libby and Sutton squealed as soon as Puffin Island came into view.
And when they saw the hundreds of birds, they giggled and smiled and took picture after picture for a solid twenty minutes.
Even if I don’t understand the excitement, their happiness fills me with peace.
At the dock, the Grady finally gets the last fender in and pulls away, leaving a space for me. The move is routine, and I need no adjustments as I slip in and tie the lines myself. After killing the motor, I hop onto the dock and head for the girls.
I smile at Sutton and give Libby a quick kiss. Just in case this old guy has any ideas. I trust my girl, but I want her status to be obvious to him. “How’s my girlfriend doing?”
Libby’s eyes light up but she doesn’t call me on the title I’ve just stolen like a thief.
“Today was so much fun!” Sutton interrupts bouncing in her pink Nikes.
“There’s a taffy store here. They make it behind these windows so their customers can watch.
And Boothbay ice cream is so much better than ours.
And Libby took me to Sherman’s bookstore too.
We got the first five Baby-Sitters Club books. We’re going to read them at bedtime.”
“Sounds fun.” I tip my chin to the pile of bags on the dock. “These it?” It looks like there are about six or seven bags in a variety of colors, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they say no and point to another ten bags they haven’t dragged down the ramp yet.
Libby nods, though she cringes a little. “Just these. Well…” She averts her gaze, scratches at her arm.
I knew it.
“These and the boat.”
“What boat?” I turn slowly, looking along the wharf to the area at the top, where tourists sit along the pavers and benches, enjoying the view. Maybe she got one of those huge sailboats for her mantel, the kind so many small stores in Boothbay sell.
With a shake of her head, she points to the pink Bayliner. “This boat.”
My stomach bottoms out. Surely I heard her wrong. “What?”
“Yeah, this nice man was selling this one. His daughter doesn’t need it anymore.
” Sutton hops onto the boat clearly made for water skiing and tubing in the harbor.
Fuck. The thing isn’t at all ocean-worthy.
It sits low, with padded seating and even a rug.
This boat wouldn’t make it a minute in the ocean.
I inhale, searching for the right words, then snap my mouth shut.
I’m not sure which of the seventeen fucking questions going off rapid-fire in my brain to start with.
I run my hand over my face. Holy hell. Who goes bra shopping and comes home with a freaking boat? She doesn’t have stilts. She has no boathouse for winter storage. She doesn’t have a mooring.
“How are we getting this home?” I finally manage.
Her face lights up. “I thought you could do that trick with ropes.”
“Lines,” I grit out. Pretty sure I’m having an aneurysm. I cannot possibly have accepted already that I’m towing this thing twelve miles out into the ocean.
“Right. Lasso it with the lines.” She bounces on the balls of her feet, her every cell charged with excitement. “We’ll make a train. You know, choo-choo.” She lifts a hand and pulls like she’s a long-haul trucker blowing a horn.
She has to be messing with me.
The man, who’s been silent during this exchange, looks like he’s fighting a smirk as he holds out a key attached to a foam keychain in the shape of pink glittering sunglasses.
Fucker. Tonight, my mission will be to discover his identity, hack into all his accounts, and change his passwords.
Make my life hard, and I’ll repay the favor, buddy boy.
In one jerky motion, I snatch the key from his hand.
“Sutton and I can ride in the pink one.”
“Absolutely not.” I whip around and glare at Libby. I will lose my fucking mind if either of them gets hurt, and the ocean isn’t exactly calm today. Shit. I run my hand down my face. Even if I get this thing back in one piece, what the fuck do I do with it then?
Libby just shrugs. “Okay, we can go with you.” Like that’s the only issue.
“And what are we doing with it when we get there?”
Her eyes light up. “Oh, that’s easy. I was thinking you could make me a…what’s this thing called?” She taps her foot on the wooden slats beneath us and peers over at Sutton, who looks far too at home sprawled out on the pink cushion.
“A dock.” She bites back a laugh. She knows exactly how ridiculous this is. I can’t build a dock in the ocean. The waves would take it out in a week.
“Or we can put it next to yours in the lawn. You know, since I’m your girlfriend now.
” Libby bites her bottom lip. She’s fucking teasing me and I love it.
And damn do I like the sound of her being mine.
I’m silent for so long, fucking smiling like an idiot, that she tilts her head back and bats her lashes, likely confused. “Please?”
“Oh hell.” As absurd as it is, of course I’ll drag the damn boat back. I’ll do anything to keep this girl happy. Anything to keep smiling.