Feels like Rain (Lake Fisher 3)

“I already have a mother. And she’s nosy enough for two Katies put together.”

Jake laughs, then he suddenly sobers. “You do good work. I’m glad you’re here. The place is more than Katie and I can take care of on our own. And Pop doesn’t put in as much effort as he used to.”

I smirk. “Better not let him hear you say that.”

Jake looks over his shoulder like Mr. Jacobson could be stalking him. He relaxes a little when he sees that he’s not there.

“Why’d you take a chance on me?” I ask, suddenly curious.

Jake shrugs. “You looked like a man who could use a chance.”

“Well, thank you,” I say, and I sincerely mean it.

“Did you apply anywhere else?” Jake asks, like he’s suddenly curious too.

“Only everywhere.” Nobody wanted to hire a felon, particularly not one who killed the town’s favorite daughter.

“Well, we’re glad you’re here,” he says again.

“Me too.” I point toward the field. “I’m going to go take care of that grass, unless you need something else done.”

Suddenly Katie reappears and marches up to both of us, and she’s spitting mad. “I just have one question for you,” she says, her hands on her hips as she glares at me.

“Okay, shoot,” I say. I adjust the ladder on my shoulder, since it’s still resting there.

“Are you eating okay? Do you have blankets? Are you getting enough rest?”

“That was three questions,” I inform her.

Her face softens. “I know. I’m just so worried about you. Your mom is too, and we can’t help it.” She stomps her foot in the grass, and it’s all I can do not to laugh at her. But I think she’s genuinely sincere, which is also hilarious to me.

“I’m eating just fine. I go to the store when I need to.”

Her brow furrows. “They treat you okay there?”

“They treat me fine.” At least they do at the tackle shop. I get most of what I need there.

“I have blankets if you need them,” she rushes to add.

“I have plenty.” I nod at her. “But thank you for worrying about me. You’re doing my mama proud.”

She grins. “Thanks.”

Then she marches off back in the direction she came from.

“Pigheaded,” Jake mutters. “I told you.”

I can’t bite back my smile. “I think it’s sweet.” And aggravating as fuck, but still sweet.

He chuckles. “That’s generous of you.”

I nod toward the field as a reminder, and I head off to put my ladder up. My duck follows, his noisy little mouth talking the whole way.

“So now I get shit from you too?” I ask him, but his cute little waddle and the way he runs honking after me make me laugh. Genuinely laugh, not from something witty or amusing, but from sheer joy.

That’s something I haven’t done in a really long time. It feels almost foreign, but it feels right at the same time.

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