Chapter Three
Maddox
The muscles in my arms strain as I haul two big buckets full of squirming minnows from the backroom to the counter of my shop. I don’t mind the hard work that’s required to run a business like this, though. Straining my muscles reminds me that I’m alive and that I’m lucky to be able to do this every day. I’ve dreamed of having my own bait shop ever since I was a little kid. Five years ago, my grandfather retired and I took over Maine Catch Bait & Tackle. Since I already worked there parttime, I already knew the ins and out of running the shop.
My days are filled with preparing bait, managing inventory, restocking fishing tackle and gear, giving fishing lessons, offering advice to customers, and more. I have someone to help man the shop on the days that I’m out giving fishing lessons, but apart from that, I do everything myself—something I take pride in.
What I don’t like are the swarms of tourists flooding Fog Harbor during the summer months. Most of them are kind, but some of them are so rude and entitled that I dread interacting with them. It’s why I prefer to keep to myself. At least fish and bait keep their opinions to themselves.
According to my brother, Benson, my grumpy demeanor is the reason why I’m still single. He’s one to talk. He’s still single too, and he’s far from a grump, so that just proves his theory is completely wrong. Some people need more time to thaw than others, and any girl who doesn’t have the patience for that isn’t a match for me. If I ever commit to a woman, I want her to respect me and love me for who I am—and that means giving me the time to open up to her in my own way.
I grab my phone and post the graphic I made yesterday on my socials. It’s an announcement about sign-ups opening soon for a new fishing course. I already know all the spots will be taken by tonight. It’s what always happens when I announce new lessons.
When my grandfather sold the shop to me for an unbeatable price, the only catch was that he forced me to agree to give fishing lessons to the members of the local senior club. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but over the years, it’s become wildly successful and now I can’t seem to get rid of them anymore. If I’m being completely honest, I have to admit that I like it. It’s carefree and uncomplicated, most of the time. There are worse things than getting paid to spend a morning or an afternoon on the lake with a bunch of retirees who know next to nothing about fishing but are eager to learn.
The bell above the door chimes and I look up to see a familiar face.
“Hello, Maddox,” Charlie says, his weathered cap pulled low.
He’s one of my regulars, and we often joke that his love for fishing pays half my mortgage. That’s how often he comes in here to buy stuff from me.
“Hey, Charlie. What can I do for you today?” I ask him with a genuine smile.
He eagerly scans the shelves of fishing gear like a kid in a candy store. “I’m heading out early tomorrow. I need some fresh bait and maybe a few new lures.”
I grab one of the buckets I hauled inside earlier. “I’ve got just what you need. These little guys have been a hit with the trout lately.”
Charlie peers into the bucket and nods. “Perfect. And how about them lures? Got any good ones for me?”
I motion toward the lure shelf. “Take your pick. The ones on the left just came in yesterday. I tested them myself down at Clearwater Creek. Caught lots of fish.”
Charlie selects a shiny spinner and places it on the counter. “I’ll get one of these, and a dozen of those fresh minnows you’ve got there.”
I ring up his purchases and hand them to him. “Here you go. Tight lines out there tomorrow, Charlie,” I tell him with a smile.
“Thanks, Maddox. I sure hope so,” he says, returning my smile.
On his way out, he holds the door open for a gorgeous, curvy brunette who storms inside. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s here to murder me.
“Welcome to Maine Catch Bait & Tackle. How can I help you today?” I greet her.
She frantically paces around the shop, muttering to herself. Her hair is messed up and she’s got an injured nose. For a second, I’m considering calling Sheriff Daniels, but I decide to hold off on something as drastic as that. At least for now. The way I see it, she either just escaped from a mental institution or is having a bad day. I’m hoping it’s the latter.
With a wild look in her eyes, she snatches a flyer promoting the fishing lessons for seniors from the counter. “This. I need to sign up for this.”
I frown, glancing at the flyer in her hands. “It’s for seniors only. See? It says so right at the bottom. In big, bold letters.”
She shakes her head vehemently. “I don’t care.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you sign up. Unless you look way younger than you actually are? If that’s the case, you should share your secrets,” I say to lighten the mood, but she doesn’t take the bait.
Instead, she shoots me an even angrier look. “Please, don’t act so holy. I’m sure you can bend the rules. Age is just a number.”
I cross my arms over my chest, meeting her gaze head-on. Two can play this game. “Give me a good reason and I might consider it.”
“My ex dumped me and now he’s here acting all cocky and stupid and I don’t want him to ruin my vacation or take part in a fishing contest with him,” she blurts out.
I raise my eyebrow. “And what does your relationship drama have to do with me bending the rules for you?”
“Relationship drama?” she scoffs. “This is my life, mister… mister… Fancy Fish Bait!”
I suppress a laugh at her weak jab. “Mister Fancy Fish Bait?”
“You know what I mean.” She seems to deflate, and tears form in her eyes. I feel bad for not being nicer to her. “I’m sorry,” she continues, “I’m a bit riled up. I don’t normally act this crazy. I’m angry, but not at you.”
I uncross my arms and soften my gaze. “Why are you angry then?”
She wipes a tear away with the palm of her hand, and I’m suddenly overcome by an overwhelming desire to punch whoever caused her to cry like this in the face.
“Last Christmas, I got dumped. On a podcast. While I was blissfully unaware of how unhappy he was. We were just shopping for presents and then he told some reporter he needed space so he could focus on his career. And now he’s my cousin’s boyfriend. She didn’t even tell me I had to give up my room for him. You see, our family rents one of the cabins by the lake. The same one every year. And my cousin and I normally room together.” She stops to breathe, which I’m grateful for. I was beginning to fear she’d faint from oxygen deprivation from her ranting. “Anyway, my ex is a douchebag who keeps putting me down. Every chance he gets, he comments on how bad I am at fishing and boating. I don’t even get why. If anyone should act like that, it should be me. I’ve been nothing but kind to him. I deserve better.”
I frown and ball my hands into fists. “Is that how your nose was injured? Did he hit you?”
“No, that was a football-related accident,” she says, briefly touching her nose. “Devon, that’s my ex, only hurts me mentally. Not physically.” She holds the flyer in the air. “So, please, I’m begging you to let me sign up for fishing lessons.”
“I still don’t understand what this has got to do with fishing.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Look, I want to prove him wrong and show him I can fish, even though I know diddly-squat about reeling in a fish. And the fact that I’ll be away from him most mornings or afternoons is an added bonus. If I have to spend breakfast, lunch, and dinner with him and every minute in-between, I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won’t be pretty.”
I sigh as I retrieve the sign-up form and a pen from the shelf under the counter and shove it towards her. “Fine. You can sign up, but you won’t get the senior discount.”
“How much is that?”
“Fifty percent off.”
She cocks an eyebrow. “If everyone who signs up has to be a senior, and they automatically get the senior discount anyway, why not just lower the price of the lessons?”
I grin. “It’s called smart marketing.”
“Or it’s called stealing from an innocent woman like me,” she mutters.
I put my hand on the form. “I could still change my mind about letting you sign up.”
“Fine,” she says with a sigh. “I’ll pay full price without complaining.”
I let go of the form and watch while she jots her name down: Aspen Steelbird . I tap the paper with my finger. “Steelbird, huh. Like the NFL star? That’s a name you don’t hear every day.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes. Travis Steelbird is my brother. Whooptidoo.”
Her irritated look tells me that she’s sick of hearing people comment on that fact, so I keep my mouth shut and let her fill in the rest of the form without uttering another word.
Once she’s done, she puts the cap back on the pen and smiles triumphantly. “There, done.”
“You’re in. Payment is due tomorrow,” I tell her.
“Thank you. I promise you won’t regret this. What’s your name, by the way?”
“Maddox.”
“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow for the first lesson then, Maddox.”
I nod. “Six a.m. sharp. Don’t be late. The fish wait for no one.”