Fisher's Light(98)

Getting a call from him out of the blue was a shock. When he told me that he quit working for Fisher’s father as soon as he got back to the city, it threw me even more. He overheard the things Jefferson said to me that day at the ballpark and there had been some other questionable things Jefferson had said and done in the time that Stanford worked for him that made him uncomfortable and forced him to realize that the man was not to be idolized. He quit and had a job with another, larger corporate bank with locations nationwide within a week.

He felt bad about the way we parted and he still wanted to do whatever he could to help me with the inn. I immediately distrusted him and assumed he was trying once again to buy the place from me, but he had a better idea. His new company specialized in small business loans and he asked if I would consider refinancing the mortgage on the inn with his bank. I politely told him no and tried to explain to him that having to deal with my ex-boyfriend for the duration of my loan would be almost as bad as having to deal with my ex-father-in-law. I ended the call and assumed that would be the end of it. Within an hour, the president of the bank was calling, giving me his assurance that my account would be serviced by another loan officer and that Stanford’s name would only be on the paperwork as the referring party for commission purposes. He went on to explain that they were committed to keeping the small businesses in America afloat, giving them the lowest possible finance rates permitted by law. I really didn’t want to believe that there might be a chance to save Butler House without having to crawl on my hands and knees and beg Fisher’s father, but it was hard NOT to believe it when the bank sent me a draft of the paperwork. The interest rate is almost seventy-five percent less than what I’m paying now with Fisher’s Bank and Trust and it would cut my monthly payments almost in half.

“When are you going to tell Fisher?” Ellie asks.

I shrug and look out at the ocean. “I don’t know. When is it ever a good time to tell the man you love that the guy you were dating is the one who is going to make your dreams come true?”

“Never,” Ellie informs me.

“Awww, keeping secrets already? Tsk, tsk, that’s never a good thing.”

Whipping my head around, I stare up at the one person on this island I hate more than Fisher’s father.

“I think you made a wrong turn. The skank beach is a mile that away, Melanie,” Ellie says, pointing to the left with a sweet smile.

“You’re one to talk, getting knocked up before you’re married,” Melanie sneers.

Ellie continues to smile as she lifts both of her hands in the air and gives Melanie two middle fingers.

I push myself up from the ground, feeling much more comfortable being eye-level with Melanie than having to look up at her, but I quickly realize how bad I look standing next to her and immediately want to wrap a towel around me. The red bikini I’m wearing made me feel sexy until I stood next to Melanie with her long legs, fake boobs and flat, toned stomach. The white string bikini she’s wearing consists only of three triangles precariously concealing her goods and doesn’t help my confidence much, either.

Every time I see this woman around town, all I can think about are Fisher’s hands on her ass and his mouth pressed against hers that night at Barney’s. He swore to me that nothing happened between them, but I still have to swallow a few times to keep my lunch down where it belongs just thinking about that night.

“I have no idea how you do it, Lucy,” Melanie says with a shake of her head.

I sigh and take the bait, even though I know better. “How I do what?”

Melanie laughs and brushes her long, perfect, shiny blonde hair off of one shoulder. “How you managed to get the richest, most eligible bachelor on the island to propose to you, kicked him to the curb and then got that hot piece of ass ex-husband following you around like a puppy. I’d say you must be good in bed, but that’s obviously not the case since Fisher practically begged me to f*ck him and give him a taste of what he was missing.”

White-hot rage flows through me and I don’t even think about my actions. I raise my arm and smack that smug look right off of her face. She yelps loudly, causing a few vacation stragglers enjoying one of the last nice days at the beach to sit up and take notice.

“Daaaaaamn,” I hear Ellie mutter softly, but I don’t pay any attention to her.

“You are a skanky piece of trash and the only reason Fisher went anywhere near you a year ago is because he was drunk,” I shout, not caring that people can hear me.