Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“Fishing? You’re taking us fishing?”
In the time it took us to grab food before the “sunrise tradition,” the sky turned from black to dark blue, shedding light on the back of Jaeger’s truck. Four fishing poles glint like spears from his truck bed.
I scratch my head, trying to figure out what the hell these guys are thinking. This is not my idea of a good time. Was this Mason’s idea, or Jaeger’s? I’m adjusting my assessment of their seduction skills by the second.
It’s getting close to five in the morning and we’re on a beach north of Stateline that I’ve never been to. Small rowboats are moored at a narrow dock.
Hello? Anyone ever hear of boats with engines? What are we, in the sixteenth century?
My mood is pissy, but I’m freaking tired. And it’s cold out here.
Jaeger lifts a box I assume contains tackle and grabs the fishing poles.
I’ve seen people fish. I understand the requisite accoutrements.
I just never thought I’d be using them in this lifetime.
There’s a time and place to acquire fish—laid out on ice in the meat section of the grocery store is my preference.
“Scared?” Mason raises a brow, his dimple in effect. He’s goading me?
I cross my arms. “How hard can it be?”
Jaeger is wholly focused on putting together the fishing gear. He’s not saying anything, but I think he’s aware I’m not excited about this. Could be the extreme animosity I’m giving off.
Jaeger was vague when he invited me, and the two of them have kept the details of our adventure a secret until now. Very cunning of them.
They walk to the water’s edge and untie the twin drowning contraptions from the dock, then drag the boats to shore. I glance at Gen, who’s watching intently. She shrugs and heads for the boats.
Great. How am I going to find her a good guy if she doesn’t have the natural instincts to know when she’s being properly wooed? The Last Stop for a quick bite and a fishing trip are not what I consider wining and dining.
“Have you done this before?” Gen asks after I reluctantly join her, her face alight with excitement.
Am I the only one who doesn’t find the idea of fishing at five in the morning the least bit entertaining? “No. You?”
She peers out longingly at the water. “I used to go with my grandfather when I was a kid, but I haven’t been in a long time. This is going to be fun.” She wraps her arm around my shoulders and squeezes the blood from my limbs.
Oh God. My headache is returning. I glance at the truck. Is it too late to back out? There’s something about luring innocent fish and then manhandling their slimy bodies until they die that makes me want to hide beneath a rock.
Mason turns around. “Gen, you and I are together. Hop in from here. It’s easier than from the dock.”
Wait, what? I’m going with Jaeger? Alone?
“Shouldn’t Gen and I go together?” I say. “She’s fished before. She can help me out.”
Mason shakes his head. “She told me a couple of days ago that she doesn’t have a fishing license.”
Gen nods in agreement.
Wait, is this the reason we’re out here at five in the morning? Gen and Mason talked about fishing and now Mason’s taking her? Not exactly my idea of romantic, but if he was listening to something she wanted to do, I can’t argue.
“Technically, neither of you should fish without a license,” Mason adds. “But we can probably get away with it if we split up. These boats are too small to accommodate both me and Jaeger, anyway, and I don’t want to leave you girls alone.”
I could admire Mason’s protective nature if I wasn’t so panicked about being marooned with Jaeger. My stomach is so taut it’s threatening to eject the large meal I just ate.
Eric would do this—be a friend’s wingman and hang with a girl’s best friend so his buddy could get to know someone. That’s all this is. That’s all Jaeger’s doing too. He doesn’t care if he’s alone with me. Why should I care?
Releasing the involuntary clamp I have on my airways, I breathe deeply and approach Jaeger’s boat. The fishing poles are loaded inside, along with a tackle box and a small cooler.
Jaeger reaches out and I take his hand. It’s padded with muscle, warm and firm, and it engulfs mine. A shock of heat rushes through my chest, previous dreams of that hand on my body dive-bombing any hope of rational thought. I stagger into the boat, my butt landing with a jarring thud.
Jaeger steps inside and passes me a paddle. I brace myself against the side of the boat, digging my fingers into the metal. Fantasies aren’t cheating. Still, this has got to stop.
“Head for the outcrop.” Jaeger points to the dark rock wall a quarter of a mile away.
I dip my oar in the water and we attempt a rhythm as we paddle out on to the lake. I’d like to say it’s a smooth ride, but I’m chopping and splashing, maneuvering my paddle like a hacksaw. My coordination leaves something to be desired.
“Why over there?” I ask as we near the place he pointed to. “Shouldn’t we go deeper?”
“This is deep, and the fish like coves. It’s also closer to shore—less labor on our part.” He sets his oar down, his gaze intent on my face. For a moment, he doesn’t move, he simply stares, his jaw working as if he’s trying to decide whether or not to say something.
Gen and Mason are closer to shore than we are. Hushed conversation floats over from their direction, but nothing I can decipher. Jaeger and I might as well be alone. I glance away and focus on the obsidian water.
Jaeger’s warm leg brushes my calf as he reaches for a pole. “You’ve never done this before?”
For a moment, I wonder what he’s talking about. The heat from his leg and the proximity of his body has me thinking of make-out sessions and cheating on boyfriends. Multiple yeses to the former, no to the latter.
Then I remember we’re supposed to be fishing. “No.”
“I’ll bait your hook.”
“Excuse me?” Why does everything he says sound like a pickup line?
He raises an eyebrow and pulls a wiggling worm from a Styrofoam container. He spears the worm on the end of a hook the size of my pinky.
I throw up a little in my mouth. Why am I here again?
Gen and Mason’s boat has drifted farther away and I can’t hear anything from them now.
“Here.” Jaeger holds out the fishing rod with the worm still wiggling on the end. “Press the button on the reel and drop the line in to the water.”
I’m trying to concentrate on his words, but I can’t stop staring at the impaled worm.
I gingerly take the reel, holding it so Mr. Worm doesn’t touch me, or get knocked against the side of the boat, adding insult to injury.
Lowering the tip of the pole, I let him float on the lake’s surface.
Maybe the little guy will get lucky and escape his torture device while Jaeger finishes his instructions.
“When I tell you to, lock the line in place.”
Bossy, are we? Who am I kidding; I absolutely need point-by-point instructions.
I press the button and the line sinks, whistling as it descends. Now the worm is drowning. Fishing cannot be humane.
Jaeger gives the signal and I press the button to stop the reel. I grip the rod as if it were an ax and stare at the end, no clue what I’m supposed to be waiting for.
Jaeger pulls another worm from the Styrofoam container, and I look away. I know what’s about to happen. I can’t watch this one’s fate at the end of Jaeger’s hook.
Why does that bring to mind my own destiny?
At the sound of his line going in the water, I peer over. Jaeger locks his reel and reaches for the small cooler, pulling out a can of Budweiser. He pops the top and passes it to me.
Cheap beer at five thirty in the morning? I will gladly take said beer and drink it like it is mother’s milk. The carbonation might settle my stomach. At the very least, a light buzz could dim the sexual tension and sense of doom in the air—or make it worse. Jesus, that’s all I need.
If I’m the only one with dirty thoughts, I can deal, but if Jaeger is attracted to me, too… we have a problem.
“How will I know when I’ve caught a fish?”
He shushes me and glances over like I’ve been naughty, which I have—in my mind. “You won’t catch a fish if you scare them away by talking too loud,” he whispers.
I lower my voice. “Are you going to tell me how this is done, or what?”
His mouth twitches. Without looking at me, he says, “They nibble.”
A tingle shoots down my belly and past my thighs. I squeeze my legs together. Again with the dirty fishing talk!
“It will feel like a vibration, maybe a few quick tugs. Don’t react right away. Let the fish take a nice bite, then jerk your hook. If you feel more movement, you’ve caught something.”
He pops open a can for himself and we sit in silence, me chugging my beer and waiting to be nibbled, him as still as a stone two feet away.
After a few minutes, I hold out my hand for another beer and my line vibrates. I don’t react right away, but my rod has all my attention. Taking the second beer he hands me, I wait, sipping carefully and white-knuckling my pole.
Another small jerk and rattle occurs.
With his gaze on his own line, Jaeger doesn’t seem to notice.
The next tug from the mysterious creature below the surface has my rod slipping a fraction from my fingers. I lurch the pole up and wind the reel a couple of times to take up the slack. The end jerks like crazy. I’ve caught something for sure.
Spinning the reel with quick, uncontrolled strokes, I fight to bring in the wild animal at the end of my line, my adrenaline kicking up a notch. I’m getting this fishing business now. Woman versus beast!
What exactly is down there? Are there freshwater sharks? Because I think I caught one. This fish is a wily bugger. I’m straining and not making much progress.
Jaeger scoots closer and our arms brush. I sense when he sets his pole down. “Need help?”
Before I can answer, the boat dips and my grip loosens on the pole as I correct my balance. Jaeger sinks behind me on the bench I’m straddling, his front to my back.
“What are you doing?” I ask nervously.