Page 56 of The Mr. Right Checklist

But fishing? Not so much.

I glance at her, a good distance downstream from me, in her skimpy cutoffs and white bikini top with green polka dots, wading through knee-high water, using her fishing rod like a maestro’s baton as she sings Taylor Swift’s “the 1.” I can’t be sure if it’s her traipsing through the water or her singing that’s scaring the fish away, but I don’t think she knows how to be still unless she’s exhausted. In the couple of hours since we arrived at the lake, Destiny has eaten lunch while walking along the rocky shoreline with Molly on her heels, thrown a ball with Molly, sung “Heart Attack,” “Girl on Fire,” and about fifty other off-key pop songs, and a few country songs, too. I caught myself humming along to some of them, and Molly looked at me like she didn’t recognize me.

Join the club.

I don’t recognize myself most of the time when I’m around Destiny, either. She’s cast some sort of spell over me. I haven’t woken up next to a woman in a decade. Last night, after she fell asleep, I lay awake for a while wondering what the hell I was doing and worrying I’d be a dick to her in the morning. Not that I wanted to, but I’m not used to having someone in my space, much less in my bed. Sharing a bed during sex is one thing, but I had all sorts of scenarios in my head about waking up feeling suffocated and wanting her to leave. I was surprised this morning when I woke up happy she was there. Then again, I don’t know how anyone could wake up to that smile and her sweet demeanor and not be in a good mood.

I keep waiting for that oh shit moment to hit, but she’s dangerously fun to be with.

Destiny spins around, flashing her pearly whites as she pushes her oversized sunglasses to the bridge of her nose, and Molly pops to her feet. Destiny’s skin is sun-kissed. The lighter blond streaks in her hair shimmer in the afternoon sun, making her eyebrows look even darker. It’s mind-boggling how much more beautiful she gets each day. She starts singing a slower song. I feel like I’ve heard it before, but other than a line about buying dirt, the lyrics don’t ring a bell.

“Sing with me,” she urges.

“Not gonna happen, sunshine.”

“Party pooper.” She begins singing again. “Find a honey you can’t breathe without. Buy her a diamond and drop to your knee. Hm-hm-hm-hm-hm. Something about pencil marks and growing grass and guys who have a great ass.”

I laugh. “You should go on tour.”

“They’ll call me Off-Key Destiny, and people will come from miles around to hear me sing.”

“I’d buy a front-row ticket.”

“You’d better buy two. One for you and one for Molly. She loves my singing. Right, Mol?”

Molly barks and bounds into the water, splashing Destiny, who simply tucks the fishing rod under her arm and showers her with attention. “That’s my good girl. You’re going to need to come see me at work after this.”

They both look so happy, I take out my phone and snap a picture of them. Destiny notices and bends down, wrapping her arm around Molly’s neck and grinning as I take another. Then she kisses Molly’s head, says, “Come on, Mol!” and runs through the shallow water chased by my pooch.

My phone vibrates with a text from Piper.

Piper:

Sorry I didn’t get back to you yesterday. Frankie threw my phone and it landed in Jiggs’s water bowl. Don’t ask.

Frankie is Piper and her husband Harley’s almost one-year-old daughter, and Jiggs is their very spoiled dog.

Fletch:

She’s got your temper.

Piper:

And Harley’s love for Jiggs. She wasn’t mad. She was throwing it to Jiggs so he could use it. Is your friend still looking for someone to build that tower?

Fletch:

Yes.

Piper:

I have a crazy week. Is it urgent?

Fletch:

Sort of. She needs to get a price so she can get budget approval from her client. If you don’t have time, do you think Kase would be interested?

Kase Force is a contractor who works for Piper.