In Shining Whatever (Three Magic Words Trilogy #2)(62)

"Me too," she said.

"Do you realize we just talked without-fighting?"-

"I did. Thank you for holding me in the storm. I've always been afraid of them," she said.

"Is that what it takes to make you play nice?" he drawled.

She smiled. "And what does it take for you to play nice?"

"For you not to cross me," he said.

"Then you aren't going to play nice very often. I'm not one of those mealy-mouthed women who walk three steps behind and one to the right. I speak my mind."

"That you do, and you are very opinionated."

"Point proven. I do speak my mind, and you want a sweet little ranchin' woman. We don't mix, and I'm not sure we can survive."

"Survive what?"

"Boredom. Living together without television, jobs, electricity, indoor plumbing, books, magazines. Nothing to escape with. Can we do it, Hart?"

"I guess we are about to find out," he said.

"I guess we are. I'm going out for an early-morning shower. The water will be wonderful, fresh rainwater. Besides, I'm all sticky from the heat in here"

"I'll do cleanup, and then let's go fish. I could eat some more like you made yesterday," he said.

"Thanks," she said, and headed out the door.

Her voice, singing something from the Zac Brown band about having to go where the boat leaves from, floated through the window. It didn't make a bit of sense to him why she'd be singing that song. He finished the cleanup, and following her example, threw a towel over the leftovers before he picked up his towel and headed toward the shower. By the time he got there, she was finished and going back toward the house.

A song played in her head as she got dressed.

Sugarland singing "Stay."

Why that song came to her mind was a complete mystery. It was about a woman begging her lover to stay with her instead of going home to his wife. Then it dawned on her that the song was about her situation. She was worried that one day another woman would call, and Hart would leave her again. She hadn't fully gotten over the past. The lines of the song said something about loving a man she had to share.

That's exactly what Kate was running from: fear of having her heart torn to pieces again. She'd never trusted another man after Hart and, now that he was back in her life, she found she was slow to trust him.

She was waiting on the screened porch when he returned from his shower. He dressed in the house and went back out to the porch in shorts, a clean T-shirt, and flip-flops.

"Ready to fish, or do you want to talk?" he asked.

"Fishing is fine," she said in a hollow voice.

"I can always eat more fried ham for dinner," he offered.

"No, I want to fish. Actually, I need to fish," she snapped.

"Don't bite at me, darlin', unless you want me to bite back."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I don't mean to hurt you, and you know it. I'd never hurt you, Kate. I care too much about you to hurt you."

She jumped up.

Cared about her.

She was in love with him. Considering refusing Laysard's offer and he cared for her? At least it was enough that he wouldn't hurt her. Was she supposed to be grateful for that and any other little crumbs he left for her to pick up?

"I'm going fishing now. You can come with me or stay up here and care about me"

He stifled a groan. Women!

Understanding nuclear chemistry was easy compared to understanding a woman. When he reached the place where he didn't want to strangle Kate, he went to the fishing spot.

She was sitting on the log when he got there. He sat as far away from her as possible and dropped his line in the water. What on earth had made her do a 180-degree turnaround?

He pondered the question for more than an hour before he caught the first fish of the day. A big, five-pound channel catfish that would make two meals all by itself. Finally the answer came to him in the peaceful quiet of the swamp that, strangely enough, was never really quiet.

She was terrified to let anyone into her life. Once upon a time she'd trusted him with her heart. He'd been young and stupid and didn't value the gift. To make her understand that he was a grown man and not a kid anymore, would take a lot.

Kate caught a bass half the size of Hart's catfish and put it on the stringer with his catch. They carried them back to the house without a word.

He set about filleting them at the side of the house.

She went upstairs to stoke up the fire in the stove again.

She swore, as she poked at the embers and added wood, that she would never take an electric cook stove for granted again. She'd decided on baked beans and macaroni and cheese to go with grilled blackened fish. For blackened fish, Hart would have to start the charcoal, and she'd have to talk to him to explain where everything was kept. She changed her mind and decided to fry the catch.

"Hey, I found a cast-iron hibachi up under the house. We got any charcoal? You know how to make blackened fish? I ordered it when I was doing the circuit down in New Orleans, and it was really good," he said cheerfully.

She wanted to slap that happiness right out of him. "It's under the cabinet over there with the lighter. Set it right there, and I'll get it ready. You start the charcoal and get it red hot."