Roots and Wings (City Limits #1)(48)

“Not been on many fishing boats, huh?” She lowered the motor in the back and turned the key, causing it to roar to life.

“No. Not that many. I’ve been on bigger fishing boats in Cleveland. They’ll take you out to fish on the lake, but they’re nothing like this. I think this boat is quieter than your truck,” I teased.

“I don’t care how loud my truck is, but I care a lot about how quiet my boat is.”

She pushed forward on the throttle and we slowly moved away from the dock by her cabin. The morning sun was strong on the water and I was glad for both my hat and glasses.

She didn’t drive fast, taking her time to show me all of her favorite haunts. She called them her “honey holes” which I thought was cute.

What wasn’t cute was the look she gave me when she threatened my life and my balls if I ever shared the top-secret information.

Okay, that was pretty adorable, too.

She pulled into a narrow piece of water off the main channel and it was peaceful and calm, the current barely noticeable. Green buds sprouted on the trees, but not quite big enough yet to shade the water from the sun. Their branches arched over us like a tunnel made of wooden lace.

“It’s beautiful back here.”

“I know. I love this spot. It’s my favorite honey hole. It’s great bass fishing.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant, other than that’s what she planned on catching, but I admired her zest for all of it. It lit her up.

“How do you know where to go to catch different kinds of fish?”

She cut the engine and turned in her seat, swinging her feet into the middle of the boat. She licked her lips and her neck stretched out towards me just enough. Again, it was obvious she wanted to kiss me, but she held back. So I did, too.

I wanted her to give in to it. To take what she wanted.

She blew out a quick breath, like she was shaking off the urge to touch me, and spoke.

“I’d like to say experience, but my dad taught me most of it. I’ve been fishing this river, and the lake outside of town, all my life. Some of it is trial and error, and some of it is just fact.”

“Don’t you just bait a line and throw it out?”

“Yes, but there’s more to it than that. Remember what I was talking about last night on our road trip?”

I remembered she was happily chirping along about fishing, but most of it was Greek to me. Scratch that, I knew some Greek. It was more like Japanese.

“Yeah, but to tell you the truth, I didn’t get most of it.”

She smiled. “You’ll catch on.”

She slid her poles out from the side of the boat she sat on and propped the ends up on her lap. “I’m going to bass fish. Do you want to try?”

“Yeah. What’s first?”

Her eyes were hidden behind her shades, and I so wished I could see them. She smiled and laughed at me quite a bit, but her eyes always let me know how I was really doing.

She handed me one of the poles; immediately, I noticed they were different. The one she gave me had string coming out of a compartment, where hers was open, the string exposed.

“Is this some sort of beginner’s pole?” I accused, only half joking.

“No. It’s just easier if you’re not used to an open cast. Don’t feel bad though, it took me years to get my cast to come out right using them. I still make a huge mess from time to time.”

She opened the tackle box, and moved the top shelf over to get something from the bottom.

“I like fishing with these when I’m back here. They look like bees.” She held the lure thing in her hand, letting me get a good look. “I don’t know if bass eat bees for real or not, but the ones back here like these little f*ckers.”

She handed one to me. It was a little heavier than it looked and had a triple hook on it.

“So I get three hooks? What is that—backup?”

She chuckled and shook her head.

“No. Those are treble hooks. I use them too. Relax, you’ll catch something, I promise. Now, watch how I tie this and see if you can do it.” She paused and lifted her glasses to the bill of her hat. “And that wasn’t a cheap shot about you not being able to do it. My dad has a hard time and he’s been fishing twice as long as I have. You just have big hands and they’re small lures.”

Here was where I could shine, if I watched carefully enough. I was a dentist, and, therefore, used to small, fine details.

I studied her fingers and watched her loop the line in and out, then pull it tight with her teeth, which made me cringe. She snipped the extra line off and proudly said, “Voilà.”

“Okay. I’ve got this.” Meticulously, I repeated what she’d done and much faster, since I wasn’t demonstrating like she’d been.

In seconds I had it tied, and then I wrapped the line around my finger to give me a better grip for pulling it tight. I wasn’t about to bite it. No, thank you.

She clipped the excess off for me.

I looked up into her eyes and they looked at me in wonder. I’d impressed her. On her boat. Point for Dr. Kissylips.

“Nice job. Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” She was skeptical now and squinted at me like she might be getting hustled.

“I’m sure.”

She was wearing hardly any makeup, but she was still just as pretty. Her bare skin revealed the freckles she had on her cheeks and nose.