Page 90 of Here With Me

He chuckles, grabbing another towel to dry his hair.

“Then you’d have to sue me for doin’ the same thing durin’ all the times you bent over in front of me.”

“We’re gonna have to actively try not to be so goddamn obvious when we’re around people.”

His gaze falls to my breasts, then moves back to my eyes when I clear my throat. “What?”

Laughing, I shake my head. “Yeah, we’re screwed.”

I arrive at the house twenty minutes after Fisher leaves. Luckily, I’m only a few minutes late from the time weactuallyeat, but no one notices because two of my brothers are still missing. My dad and Fisher are having a full-on conversation about football, and I hold back a smile when I notice how uninterested Fisher is. He’s trying hard to stay engaged, but as soon as our eyes lock, his expression brightens. I do a quick headshake to remind him he’s not supposed to stare at me like he remembers what I look like naked.

“Sweetheart, hi.” Momma walks over and pulls me in for a big hug.

I avert my gaze from Fisher and focus on her.

“Landen and Wilder are on their way, then we can sit.”

“Sounds good.”

Gramma Grace is icing something by the stovetop, so I make my way to her and give her a quick hug. “This smells delicious. You’ll have to teach me this recipe.” I dip my finger across a small piece of cake.

She whacks my wrist, and I jump.

“We have a guest tonight. He doesn’t want your fingers in his dessert.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Fisher coughs, and I turn to see him choking on his sweet tea. My cheeks heat at the thought of how I know he wouldn’t mind at all, but I glance away before anyone notices my reaction.

“Goodness, Fisher. Are you okay?” My mother stands by him, softly patting his back.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m fine. Just went down wrong.”

“That’s because he’s drinkin’ that sissy shit,” Tripp taunts. “I’ll grab ya a beer.”

Tripp stands next to me as he opens the fridge, and I nudge him. “You know Momma doesn’t like drinkin’ at supper.”

“It’s not like he’s underage.” He snorts, grabbing two cans of Bud Light, and hands Fisher one.

“Thanks,” Fisher says and pops the tab.

“Where’s Mallory?” I ask.

“With Serena at the waterpark. Told Ayden to be back by suppertime, but he texted a half hour ago and said the girls weren’t ready to leave,” Momma explains, shrugging.

“I’m sure they’re havin’ a blast,” I reassure her, and she nods with a smile.

Since Mallory's parents' death, my mother has grown overprotective of her and ensures she's always involved in our family traditions.

Waylon sits and asks Fisher, “So you traveled a lot before movin’ back here, right?”

“Yes, for eight years or so.”

Fisher’s been a farrier longer than that, and Lyla passed away ten years ago, so he didn’t start traveling for his job until two years later. But Jase said he left right after his sister died. Where was he for those two years?

“Are you likin’ livin’ back here?” Waylon continues to ask questions.

Fisher quickly glances at me before directing his response back to my brother. “More than I thought I ever would.”

“I ran into Jase at the grocery store the other day,” Momma tells him, which is news to me. “Told me he was buyin’ a house.”