Sun-Kissed (Love In All Seasons 1)

The marriage to Sheila didn’t last long anyways, and Chum called it straight away. Still, that woman is hell-bent on making sure she gets as much money from me as possible before she agrees to sign on the dotted line.

We’ve been in divorce court for two fucking years, and I’m over it. She cheated on me. Hell, she was sleeping with anyone who had deep pockets before we eloped, she had no intention of stopping after.

It’s bullshit, that’s what it is. I was faithful to her, but all that’s done now. Our sham of a marriage is nothing more than a memory I’d like to forget so long as our lawyers come to an agreement.

And I’ll fight her tooth and nail before I give her any more money than necessary. I’m sure as hell not gonna hand my family’s fortune over without a fight to a woman who’s already planning on buying a condo in Maui.

Shit, I hate getting bent out of shape over Sheila. I check my downrigger where it’s set in the icy water and am pleased to see Chum and I have caught some salmon.

This time of year I live on my boat, I go out on week-long fishing trips, and when I’m home, I spend my days with my lines in the water. My nights are spent at the bar at the end of the marina, before I come back here, below deck, and sleep it off.

Sleep alone, mostly. Damn, it’s been a fucking long time since I wet my whistle. And sitting out here, all by myself, I have plenty of time fantasizing about my dream woman. The silver lining to the Sheila mistake is that I learned what I really want in a partner--and what I sure as hell don’t.

And damn, the woman I want... I’m about ready to lose my load just thinking about her.

Not that she exists. If she does, I sure as hell haven’t met her yet. And how could I in a fishing town like this?

My girl, she’d be tender and innocent. Not a jaded bitch who’s looking for something only found in a bank account.

Hell, if I ever commit to a woman again, she’s gonna be the exact opposite of my ex.

Not that I can find a girl like that here. The local ladies are tough as nails, and I guess you need to be that way if you live out here in the wild. But when I think about my dream woman--the kind of woman who really gets me hard, she isn’t like the girls I grew up with.

I picture myself with the woman who speaks softly, who fits in my arms, who needs a real man to take care of her--and who doesn’t judge a person on his 401k.

I shake my head, checking out the size of the King salmon. Chum is right by my side, his tongue hanging out––the smell of the morning catch is apparently making him feel better.

“You hungry?” He yips at me, and I grab some chum from a bucket and fill his dish. He goes to town on the scraps and I pat his back, telling him how well we’ve done with our morning catch.

I’m guessing salmon is the only thing I’m gonna be catching anytime soon so long as I stay up here in Alaska. I wonder, like I so often do, if it’s about time I cast my net a little wider.

Ready to call it a morning, I turn my rig around and head toward the cannery to drop off my catch. As I drive my boat toward the pier, I see Max, an old friend from town wave at me from his boat. I nod my head at him; glad he was able to get out on the water today. I know he was sick the last few weeks, and when a fisherman isn’t on his boat--he doesn’t get paid.

Pulling up at the pier, Thomas greets me with a hearty, “Top of the morning.” How an old Irishman made it to middle-of-nowhere Alaska is beyond me, but his toothy grin never fails to make me smile. Which is a fucking miracle considering my reputation for being stoic and reserved.

After he’s gutted and weighed my fish, he asks how I’m holding up. He seems to think the fact that I’m flying solo is a bad thing.

“You need a wife, someone to keep you warm at night. Alaska’s too lonely to fare without a woman by your side.”

I give him a sidelong glance, having heard this all before. My family founded this town, and everyone knows my name. Seem to think they can give me their opinions too.

“Doing fine, thanks though, Thomas. Chum is pretty good at keeping me company.”

Thomas claps me on the back. “Oh, son, you just haven’t found the right woman. Maybe you need to look a little farther. I’ve heard about matchmakers sending mail order brides to remote areas in Alaska.”