CHAPTER 19 #3
But father and son had clearly done this before. Josh slogged into the water and grabbed the line and fish, JJ held steady, and together they maneuvered the fish and some water into the bucket.
“Well done!” Rebecca exclaimed.
“First catch of the evening. Kid: one. Grownups: zip,” JJ said and wiggled his brows.
“Just you wait,” Josh said and stuck his tongue out at JJ.
An hour later, they’d caught four more, one by Rebecca, who felt positively exultant at the achievement.
Once she would have scoffed at catching just one, but twenty-odd years later, it felt like a huge victory, like she was saying “still got it” to life and anyone else who brought her down.
If only Peter could see her now, she mused a little wistfully, then promptly pushed that thought away.
If Peter could see me now, he’d probably think my outfit was ridiculous and I needed to wash my hands before touching him.
A wry smile twisted. No thanks and good riddance.
“What are you smiling about?” Josh asked as they gathered their belongings to leave.
“Happy, I guess. It’s been years since I’ve done this.” Rebecca carefully wound her line and hooked it to a rung on the rod. She folded the blanket and shoved her tackle box back into the backpack, then zipped it all up neatly.
Josh knelt down in the soil, piling his and JJ’s belongings into a plastic grocery store bag. “You should do it more often,” he said, pausing to look over at her thoughtfully. “Why not?”
She gazed back at him a moment, struck by how golden and open his brown eyes looked in the late afternoon sunlight. Why not, indeed? She should have been out here fishing that very first weekend she’d moved back. What in the world was she waiting for?
“Oh, Miss Becca, I forgot to tell you. I like your friend Devon a lot!” JJ said, packing the remaining items. “He came out and fished with us on Sunday. He came the Sunday before, too!”
“No kidding! Good for him.”
“He’s a nice kid,” Josh said.
Rebecca smiled. “He sure is. He invited me to some giveaway ministry this Friday night. Said it’s more of a Dahlia thing than a church thing?”
“Oh, yeah, the Friday Night Giveaway. I’ve helped out once or twice when JJ did a sleepover with his cousins.” Josh nodded. “It’s a lot of fun. They have music, and all the volunteers stay after and eat together.”
“We should go this Friday, Dad,” JJ said. “You said I could go next time.”
Josh got to his feet, ruffled his son’s hair. “That I did.” He smiled at Rebecca. “Maybe we’ll see you there? If you promise to come, I’ll bring my guitar.”
Her eyes widened. “Josh Jamison: superdad, master chef, and guitar player?”
He elbowed her. “Hey now.”
Driving home, she realized she was not only smiling but humming along to the radio. It had been a good day, she thought, best she’d had in a long time.
As she approached Church Street, she remembered she’d left her laptop on her desk at the newsroom, decided it wouldn’t hurt to swing by and snag it.
It helped ward off insomnia when she knew she could do a little work on the paper, and besides, Sarah had texted earlier about a job possibility.
Even if things were getting better in Dahlia, she needed to keep her options open.
Anything could happen between now and December.
She’d slid out of her car and was fumbling with the office keys when she heard a loud zoom and another car, a black Audi, pulled up right beside her.
Erik Wennerman.
A clutch of something—attraction or nerves, she didn’t care to know which—settled in her belly, but she forced a smile. He was an advertiser, after all. A very cute one, but an advertiser nonetheless.
She swiped a hand through her messy hair but decided there wasn’t much she could do about it. She’d just been fishing, for goodness’ sake.
“Hey there,” she said as he got out of the car, expensive-looking sunglasses on, the kind Peter would wear. His tousled hair looked windblown, which surprisingly suited him. He gave her a wide smile.
“I’m glad I spotted you!”
“Oh?” She tilted her head, curious, but he didn’t elaborate.
The office was cool as they stepped in, and she left the door open, flicked on the lights.
“I only stopped by to grab my laptop. You have good timing.”
He stepped closer. “This might sound, well, a little cheesy, but I’ve been thinking of you since you ran out of the coffee shop last time.”
“I didn’t exactly run out.”
“Well, left quickly, let’s say.” A dimple quirked, and she found herself unreasonably angry at it. Stop it, Rebecca. “Anyway, it got me thinking.”
She waited, watched his face. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was blushing. Even Peter hadn’t done that. Was this guy for real?
“I—I’d love to take you to dinner some night. Preferably this Saturday.”
“Ah—”
He held up a hand. “If you have plans, that’s fine. We can go Friday or even Monday or Tuesday, if weeknights work better.”
“Erik, I—”
“You’re, well, you’re a beautiful, successful, intelligent woman, and let’s just say women like you don’t often land in this part of South Carolina.” The dimple deepened, and she found herself gritting her teeth, wanting to wipe that cute little grin off his handsome face.
She shook her head. No way. “I ... can’t.”
She could have sworn she saw his jaw drop, and a thrill of triumph shot through her. For a moment, she felt like she was exacting some sort of strange revenge against Peter. Which of course was silly—this wasn’t Peter, this was Erik.
“Uh, can’t?”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve just come out of a very serious relationship. Dating is off-limits for me right now.” Especially dating someone like you.
He looked genuinely disappointed. “How about as friends? I could use the company. Someone nice to talk with.” He gave her a wry smile. “You have to admit there’s a shortage of sophisticated dinner partners in Dahlia. It would be a good time.”
“It’s tempting, Erik, but I’m not ready.”
He nodded. “I understand. Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“I hope it doesn’t interfere with our business relationship. We’ve really appreciated having your partnership with the Dahlia Weekly.”
He winked. “If I buy a bigger ad, would you go out with me?”
“Uh …”
“Teasing. Mostly.” He slid his sunglasses back on, grinning. “Well, at least let me walk you out.”
She did, and they said goodbye at their cars. What a charmer. Peter had nothing on this guy.
And turning her key in the ignition, she drove toward Granny’s house, willing her mind to stay on the road, on work, on the fish she’d caught. On anything but Erik Wennerman.