Chapter 14
Shotgun Rider
Callie
My phone vibrating on the table next to the bed wakes me, bright and early, Thursday morning. Groaning, I glance at the clock and see it’s barely seven. Must be an early rising cowboy. I blindly swat my hand and feel around for the phone before lifting it close to my face.
Grumpy Not-Cowboy
Wanna go fishing?
What the hell?
Grumpy. It’s 7:03 AM. As in IN THE MORNING. I need my beauty sleep. I’m going to change your name from Grumpy to Sadist.
Grumpy Not-Cowboy
You’re beautiful, enough. Calling me a sadist seems a bit of an overreaction. I guess I’ll go spend my day on the lake all alone.
I’m coming.
Grumpy Not-Cowboy
That’s what I like to hear.
Was that a sex comment or am I reading way too much into this? I’m kind of excited to find out if there is more to Duke than what I’ve seen so far.
Twenty minutes later, I have my hair in French braids and wear biker shorts and an oversized t-shirt that falls to my mid-thighs, and sandals.
I run down the porch steps and practically skid to a stop in front of Duke’s old truck.
Today it pulls a tiny fishing boat barely large enough for two people.
The door on the old truck creaks as I pull it open before sliding into the cab and smiling widely. I get a small smile in return. Leaning over, I press my lips to his cheek in a chaste kiss which earns me a larger, toothier, grin.
“Good morning, Sunshine. I see you recovered from my early morning disruption of your sleep.”
“Fortunately for you, I have.”
Pulling away from the curb, we ride with the wind and the radio as our soundtrack, his large hand gripping mine on the seat between us.
Duke maneuvers the boat expertly down the ramp and into the lake when we arrive.
He fills the boat with a cooler from the bed as well as a few fishing poles and a tackle box.
I lean against the truck, watching him. He moves confidently, as though this is a regular pastime for him, and I get a little thrill that he thought to invite me.
I’m not much of a fisher, but being here with him means a lot more than a proper date anywhere else.
“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll help you climb in.
” Taking my hand, he pulls me against him, kissing me gently before lifting me by my waist and depositing me into the tiny boat, the water sloshing around us before he follows behind me.
He wears a lightweight t-shirt today, his strong arms on display and a pair of swim trunks, which makes sense.
I’m distracted by his pale legs that don’t look like they see the sun much.
Boating shoes are on his feet. This Duke is so much different than I usually see. I’m fascinated.
“What are you staring at?” he asks me, noticing my lingering eyes.
“Your pale legs,” I answer, matter-of-factly. He narrows his brown-eyed gaze at me.
“It’s been winter!” His tone is defensive and makes me laugh.
“Hang on,” he calls out over the din created by the onboard motor starting up, and rumbling vibrations spread through the boat.
He shoots away from the land into the middle of the lake before cutting the engine, the sudden quiet feels unexpected.
After he gets us settled, he shows me the stash of snacks and drinks in the cooler and offers to cover me in sunscreen. He pulls a baseball cap from under his seat and, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind my ears, settles the green hat with ‘Waylon’s’ written across it on my head.
“It’ll protect your eyes; it’s bright today,” he tells me gruffly when I look at him a little too indulgently as he dotes on me. He helps me cast my rod and we relax. I prop my bare toes on the side of the boat and let the sun caress my skin. I should have a nice bronze glow by the end of the day.
“Tell me about where you grew up?” His deep voice breaks the silence as we sit. I haven’t felt so much as a tiny nibble on my line.
“Oh,” I think of what to say about home, “I grew up in a small town near the coast in North Carolina. It’s beautiful there but,” I make a show of looking around, “Montana might be in competition. I spent my entire childhood on the beach, like a TV show. Have you ever seen Dawson’s Creek?”
“Um, I don’t think so.”
“Well, they filmed it near where I grew up, and a bunch of romance book adaptations. I miss it.”
“How did you end up in a ditch in Inspiration?” His question is exactly what I expect. It’s a reasonable thing to be curious about, but I’m not ready to tell him.
“I’ve been traveling for a while. My parents died a few years ago. They left me a little money, and I’ve been using it to travel.” I feel the line I’m holding go taut and a gentle tug. “Duke,” I whisper. I’m not sure why, it feels right.
“What?” He looks over at me, concern on his face.
“I think,” just as I am speaking, the tug becomes more insistent and my pole is pulled, “I have a FISH!” I screech as my pole is almost yanked from between my hands. Duke jumps up and grabs it from me, reeling it in as the pole bends under the force of the obvious sea monster tugging on it.
“Duke, it’s gotta be huge, right?” I ask as he struggles to reel the line in, his own pole discarded at the bottom of the boat.
“Grab the net!”
I look around, suddenly forgetting everything he explained about fishing now that there’s a fish on the hook. I wave my hands around trying to figure out where the net is.
Where the hell are you? This is a tiny boat!
Spying it half under the seat I was sitting on, I grab it just as Duke starts leaning over the side of the boat, pulling the giant beast to the surface. A fin breaks through, a tan little thing.
“Give me the net.” He passes me the pole while he takes the net from me. I wrestle to keep the rod from being wrenched from my hand as Duke leans over and scoops the Loch Ness monster into the net.
Holding it up, he shows me my prize. It’s a tiny trout, half the size of my arm.
“What the fuck? Why is it so small?” I burst out laughing.
“It’s not nice to ask why he’s small, Caroline, you’ll hurt his feelings.”