One

Chapter Eighteen

CATCH AND RELEASE

Jamie survived the one-week trial. In spite of Everson’s intentions to be the decision maker, we took a vote. It was two to one. Jamie stayed.

Penny became my new BFF, which I didn’t share with Lindsay for feeling-sparing reasons.

I needed someone more messed-up than myself to truly accept me.

Penny bridged the gap between my girlfriend and my mother.

She listened to me like Lindsay, only less judgmental, yet gave motherly advice, only less ethical. Yeah, I loved Penny Weiss.

Shayna and Everson became my new siblings, although I felt much more like a mother to Shayna than a sister, and Everson was just … Everson. I still hadn’t broken through his tough outer layer to find what I knew had to be an ooey-gooey middle.

Another theory of mine.

Cage was the upside to every day, no matter what.

The fact that we were just weeks from him leaving for training camp was bittersweet.

My early morning peep-holing revealed a gathering of Everson and some other guys from the team in the hall, another upside to my life in Minneapolis.

One of the other guys was my guy. I bent down and finished tying my shoe then opened the door.

The boisterous laughter and chatter silenced as all eyes fell on me.

I smiled. “Boys.”

“Damn, Monaghan!” One of the guys whistled. “You’re choosing fishing over that today?” His eyes roved my body, clad in tight running shorts and a sports bra.

“Keep your fucking eyes off her.” Cage playfully shoved the guy before moving toward me. He grabbed my head and kissed me, eliciting a few cat calls from the peanut gallery. “I missed you last night,” he whispered in my ear.

I left him naked and sated in his bed to get home so I could video chat with Jerry about the fit of my newest leg. Clearing my throat, I took a step back before I started to sweat from his touch. “Fishing? So you were serious?”

“Your boy’s got the sweetest fishing boat ever, Stick. Man, how have you not taken her fishing yet?” Everson asked.

I vaguely remembered Cage mentioning something about fishing once, but I didn’t think much of it. “You have a boat? An actual fishing boat?”

The guys snickered.

“We go for the beer and banter, but Monaghan actually takes it seriously, giving us the stink eye if we get too loud.”

I cocked my head to the side. Cage grinned as he shrugged.

“Catch and release, or do you eat the fish?”

“Depends.” He shoved his hands into his back cargo shorts pockets.

I nodded, still a little surprised.

Cage gestured to my running leg. “Testing a new leg?”

I shook my head. “Underwear.”

His brow wrinkled and the guys behind him inched a bit closer, ears perked.

“What?” Cage asked.

“My favorite underwear has been discontinued. I’m trying a new brand and the best way to test them out is to go for a jog. I want to know before I buy ten pairs if they’re going to ride up on me. I’m not a thong girl. I don’t like anything shoved up my ass.”

His cheeks turned red while taking a hard swallow. The fishing crew tried and failed to hide their chuckling. One of the guys slapped him on the shoulder.

“We’ll meet you out front.” He cleared his throat. “Our condolences on the ass news.”

That sparked a new round of laughter as the guys piled onto the elevator. When the doors shut, Cage pursed his lips and sighed. “Thanks for that.”

I shrugged. “What?”

“What …” It’s possible his intention was to be serious or maybe upset, but he couldn’t finish his thought without rubbing his hand over his mouth to hide his smirk. “You don’t like ‘anything shoved up your ass.’ Really, Lake?” Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, he shook his head.

“So you’re big into fishing, huh?”

“Don’t change the subject.” He narrowed his eyes at me.

Too bad he still couldn’t keep a straight face.

It would have given his case a lot more merit.

Those were favorite moments of mine, when he was ninety percent sure my actions were an embarrassing side effect of my Sahara Desert humor, yet still ten percent holy-shit-she’s-serious.

I loved that ten percent. I worked my ass off for that ten percent.

“I’m sorry, what was the subject? Oh yeah, things I don’t like in my crack.

Sounds like a Jeopardy category or a Family Feud survey.

‘Name something Lake Jones does not like up her crack. Underwear. Survey says? Ding ding ding … ninety-four people surveyed said underwear, the other six said cock. And I do believe those six lascivious idiots are downstairs waiting for you.”

Cage observed me; it was never just a stare or a lingering look.

His eyes narrowed a fraction, but never lost their sparkle.

The wetting of his lips was always followed by biting them together like he refused to speak until he’d figured me out.

And just before he spoke, his dimples surrendered to his impending grin.

“I’m going to text you an address. Meet me there in three hours.”

“What if I haven’t sorted through this underwear situation by then?” My head tilted to the side as my poker face slipped a bit, revealing my own impending grin.

“Hmm …” He pulled me to him, his hands easing into the back of my running shorts. “Don’t fret over it,” he whispered before sucking my earlobe into his mouth.

My lips parted, and eyes closed, as I held onto his biceps to keep my knees from buckling.

“Panties are optional.”

Three words and my knees buckled. Thankfully—not really thankful at all—he fisted the back of my new panties and yanked up. My hero? No. The wedgie was underway a few seconds before my knees gave out.

I gasped.

He smirked.

“I think you should consider getting used to the idea—the feeling—of something in that sexy ass of yours.”

Not much left me speechless, but my first non-brother-male-induced wedgie left me with cow eyes and a numb tongue.

He winked just before the elevator doors shut.

Being the youngest of five and having three older brothers made daily revenge plotting an integral part of my childhood. The address Cage texted me was to a lake. I parked next to his truck with the empty boat trailer attached to it.

Lake: I’m here.

Cage: I’ll pick you up on the dock. Please ignore any of the drunks.

I laughed while shaking my head and grabbing my sunglasses. As I stepped onto the dock, echoing whistles and hollering ensued as a boat drew near.

“We’re being ditched for a chick,” one of the guys said as the boat crept alongside the dock.

I think there were five guys total, but I only had eyes for revenge … or the lucky recipient of it wearing the goofiest khaki bucket hat with several lures hanging from it.

“There’s my favorite Lake.”

“You’ve got it bad, man. We’re in the land of ten thousand Lakes and you have a favorite?” one of the guys said as they stepped onto the dock, some a bit more wobbly than others.

“Stick.”

I raised a brow. “Apollo.”

He grinned. Everson must have had some beer too; it was the only potion that seemed to bring out his full smile, at least for me.

“Later, Monaghan.”

“Bender’s driving, you dumb asses.”

The last guy off the boat nodded with a polite smile. I recognized him as blond-bun guy from Everson’s party, the one who seemed to know how to pronounce Trzy. He dangled a set of car keys.

“You must be Bender.”

“Holden Bender, sober and at your service. How’s your cat?”

He remembered me. Lovely.

“She’s still a real party animal, one of the most sought after pussies in the building.”

Holden’s eyes raised for a second before he broke into a loud laugh, giving a quick glance back on the boat to Cage, who shook his head.

“I like her, Monaghan.” He continued to chuckle as he walked up the ramp.

Cage and I had a stare-off until the sound of Bender’s tires skidded in the dirt signaling their departure.

“I don’t fish.”

Cage grinned. “You grew up in Tahoe. How can you not fish?”

“Simple. I just don’t. Boating? Yep. Skiing? Yep. Hiking? You betcha. Fishing? Not my thing.” I tossed my purse into the boat and then stepped on without taking Cage’s proffered hand. “When exactly did you become such a fisherman?” I flicked one of the lures attached to his hat.

Cage grabbed my wrist, giving me a warning glare that melted into a smile as he pressed his lips to the inside of my wrist. “My grandpa fished and so did my dad when I was really young. Fishing, camping … basically anything outdoors.” He hooked my waist with one arm and pulled me onto his lap with my back to the steering wheel as the boat hummed, sitting idle next to the dock.

“And wedgies? Who taught you how to give wedgies?” I narrowed my eyes.

He shrugged. “Kids in the neighborhood when I lived in Portland.”

I kept the “you’re going to pay for that, buddy” to myself. The element of surprise was my best bet for success.

“You look seventy in that hat.”

“You don’t like my hat?”

I liked his white muscle shirt and his defined legs beneath mine—the dimples were a given—but the bucket hat was … anti-sexy. Yet, the guy managed to make it work.

“So, I’m your favorite lake, huh?”

His gaze fell to my lips. It was crazy how the slightest shift of his eyes affected me so much. My mouth dried up as my pulse accelerated.

I wet my lips.

His gaze descended to my chest.

My nipples hardened.

Mr. I Make Stupid Hats Look Sexy manipulated my body with nothing more than a look. It was subtle but profound, like the effect of the sun.

“You’re my favorite everything.” He met my eyes again and smirked. Of course he knew what he did to me. There was no hiding it.

“Your favorite everything, really?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Really.”

“What’s your favorite day?”

He grinned. “Any day I get to see you.”

“Favorite color?”

“Blue, like your eyes.”

“Favorite animal?”

“Elephant.”

“Screw you.”

His eyes danced with amusement.

“Favorite food?” In spite of the boat and all the fishing equipment on it, I couldn’t reel that comment back in. Nope, I’d already cast it and he bit at it.

The arousal beneath me and the agonizingly slow way his tongue eased along his lower lip answered that question.

“Lake,” he whispered. “I’m fucking starving right now.”

Gulp.

I was a tad on the hungry side as well. “Um …” I cleared my throat. “I think what you have in mind is more of a private dining meal.”

He dipped his head and kissed my bare shoulder next to the thin black strap of my camisole top then licked a trail to my ear. “I love you.”

Unexpected. It was like riding a roller coaster blindfolded. I anticipated the “I love you” two seconds before he gave me a wedgie, and when I expected a picnic-on-the-boat comment, he took my breath away like a plunging drop with those three simple words.

“I love you too.” I grinned then tugged at his hat. “Even your hat is growing on me.”

“Oh, yeah?” He sat back.

I nodded.

“Well…” he leaned to the side and flipped up a seat with a storage compartment under it “…then it’s fate that I have one for you.”

A lavender bucket hat with lures hanging from it. It was hideous and breathtaking at the same time.

“I don’t want lice. How many women have worn this before me?”

“You’re the first female to ever step foot on this boat. I bought it for you. I put the lures on it for you.”

Losing my leg was easy compared to losing my heart to Cage, even if I did willingly hand it to him. With each passing day I knew I’d never get it back in one piece. Did he read the warning? Did he see the “Fragile. Handle with Care?”

“When your season begins and we don’t see each other as much…” I took the hat and put it on, Cage smiled “…can you do me a huge favor?”

“Anything.”

Pressing my palms to his cheeks, I whispered, “Don’t forget to love me.”

CAGE

The purple fishing hat fit her perfectly. I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. Total truth: Lake was the first woman to set foot on my fishing boat.

“I’ll forget how to throw a football before I’ll forget to love you.”

Her lips brushed mine. I inhaled her flowery scent, which made me need to taste her sweet lips. Most of the time she tasted of cinnamon from her gum, but on my favorite occasions she tasted like marshmallows. I asked the man upstairs to twist fate in my favor: never let another man taste her lips.

“Both would be a tragedy.”

I nodded, but if I were honest, the former would have sucked, the latter would have felt like the end of the world.

“Let’s go catch some fish.”

It took about fifteen minutes to get to my favorite spot. We could have made better time, but I went slow. I could have watched Lake all day with her smiling face in the sun, eyes closed, holding her hat to her head as her dark hair whipped in the wind.

“This is it.”

She opened her eyes, head twisting in one direction and then the other. “Quite the cozy little cove.”

“Yes.” I grabbed my pole and tackle box.

“You’re introverted.”

“A bit. Here.” I cast the line. “Catch me a fish.”

“Your pole? You’re going to let me use your special pole?”

“Babe, you can use anything of mine, anytime you want.”

She sat next to me and took the pole. “Did you let your buddies use your pole?”

“Hell no.”

We fished for less than an hour before the rain chased us back to the dock. I would have stayed dry had we not had to circle around to retrieve my hat that she tossed over the side when I asked how her new panties were working out. Apparently she kept score.

“Not cool, babe.” I snagged my hat from the surface and put it back on my head.

She laughed as water dripped onto my face and body.

“I’m not laughing.”

“Poor baby, don’t get your knickers in a bind … or do.”

Thunder rumbled as a cool breeze wrapped around us.

“Do you need help getting the boat onto the trailer?”

I shook my head, too stubborn to say any more with my drenched hat on my head.

“Good.” Lake hopped out as soon as we reached the dock. “ ’Cause it’s getting ready to pound on us.” She hurried to her car.

Five seconds later the clouds opened up.

“Fuck.” I shook my head, but didn’t bother hurrying at that point as I was already drowned within seconds.

After I secured my boat onto the trailer, Lake flipped me a grin as she pulled out of the parking lot past me.

She was aggravating, and sexy, and that smile …

Damn! I wanted to suck that smile right off her face.

I wanted to suck every inch of her until the only expression she had was the grimace that accompanied her loud moans and screams.