Hooking Him (How to Catch an Alpha #3)(29)

“Yeah, but I have no intention of listening to you call your ex over and over all fucking day.”

“I wasn’t going to call him again.”

“Babe.” He scrubs his hands down his face.

“I wasn’t.”

“You called him three times within the span of three minutes.”

I did do that. Damn.

“Why is it that whenever you get pissed at me, I haven’t gotten an apology?” he asks, and I notice the anger has left his features and that his lips are twitching.

“Probably because you were being a jerk and I wasn’t sorry,” I tell him honestly.

He grins like he thinks I’m cute, but then his smile falters. “I’m guessing, since he’s getting calls, Max published the story.”

“Yeah.” I let out a long breath and pick up my coffee to take a sip as I wonder what she wrote in the story.

“Good news is, out on the lake, there’s no cell service, so you’ll have a little peace,” he tells me, his expression gentling.

“Bad news is,” I say, my nose scrunching, “if I see Max again, I’m probably going to kick her in the shin, so you might have to arrest me.”

“I don’t know. I kinda like the idea of you wearing my cuffs.” He smirks, and my insides somersault.

“Breakfast is served,” Flo singsongs, setting down two overflowing plates. “I’m going to come back with syrup, but is there anything else you want?” She looks between the two of us.

“I’m good,” Calvin says.

“Ketchup for me, please.” I smile as the smell of bacon and pancakes urges me to dig in.

“Got it. I’ll be right back.”

I pick up a piece of bacon when she walks off and take a bite, trying not to moan in happiness. I never buy real bacon; I always get turkey bacon because it’s supposed to be better for me, but no matter what the packaging says, it’s just not the same. After the waitress comes back and drops off the syrup and ketchup, we dig into our food.

“I think this is the best breakfast I’ve had in forever,” I tell Calvin while dipping a bite of eggs and cheese into some ketchup.

He turns to smile at me. “I wouldn’t have guessed, based on the sounds you’re making.”

“I’m not making any sounds.”

“You’re moaning every time you take a bite.”

“Whatever.” I don’t even bother arguing with him. Instead, I enjoy my cheesy eggs, take another bite of pancake, and wash it all down with some coffee.

When we’re done eating and are stuffed, he pays the bill, and we load back up in his truck. “The lake is only about twenty minutes from here. We’ll stop at the tackle shop, pick you up a license, and get the keys for the boat,” he says as we pull onto the highway.

Wait, what?

“License? A license for what?”

“You have to have a license to fish.”

“Do I need to take a test?” I ask, getting that same nervousness I used to feel when I had to take a test in school.

He laughs like I’m being funny. “No test.”

I sigh in relief, then ask, “We’re going out on a boat?”

“Yeah, not a big one, just a skiff, so we can get out into deeper water and away from the shore, which I’m sure will be crowded.”

“Cool,” I say absently, looking out the window and soaking in the beauty of the area as we eventually get off the highway and turn onto an old gravel road. There are a few houses tucked back in the woods, but it’s mostly trees as far as the eye can see.

He takes my hand as we crest the top of a small hill, and a lake so still it looks like glass comes into view. “This is where I want to retire one day.”

“I can see why. It’s absolutely beautiful.”

“Yeah.” He places his hand on my lap and follows the road around the edge of the lake. We reach an area with a few cabins lined up side by side, and he parks in front of one with a hand-painted wooden sign hanging over the door, proclaiming the place THE SHACK.

“Grab your ID from your bag, babe. You’ll need it for the paperwork you have to fill out.”

I dig into my purse for my ID as he gets out, and by the time I find it, he has my door open and has reached around to unbuckle me. “I know you’re very excited about fishing.” I turn in my seat so my legs are hanging out the door. “But I am fully capable of unhooking myself and getting out of your truck.”

Without a word, he wraps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me forward, covering my mouth with his. Tingles shoot up my spine, and I lean into him, placing my hands on his shoulders as the tip of his tongue touches my lips. I open, the kiss deepens, and his hands wander up my thighs and to my sides. The urge to wrap my legs around his hips and grind against him causes a whimper of need to escape my throat, and his arms wrap tight around me.

Before I’m ready for the kiss to end, he tears his mouth from mine, slides his fingers into my hair to cup the back of my head, and tucks my face into his neck, muttering a quiet “Fuck.”

“Was that a ‘shut up’ kiss?” I pull back to look at him, still breathing heavily and dazed from the kiss.

“No, that was an ‘I’ve been wanting to kiss you all morning but never had the opportunity to kiss you until now’ kiss.”