Roots and Wings (City Limits #1)(49)

I noticed I didn’t have a preference when it came to her. Only that I always adored what she looked like.





“Yeah. Just like that. Cast and then sort of jerk it as you reel it in slowly. You got it.”

He was a natural. Why had I expected anything less? He followed instruction and didn’t get the least bit shitty with me when I corrected him.

“So where are they then?” he asked as he threw his line out once more. This was a hopping little spot and I trusted that within minutes one of us would get a bite.

“Just be patient.”

I threw mine out in front of the boat. Having put the trolling motor in the water, my foot rested on the pedal, happy where we were for the moment. The nice thing about this Chute was, it went on for a good little bit and it would be late morning by the time we made it to the end of the island where it divided from the shore.

He fell into a nice rhythm with his pole, and from where I stood I was only able to give my line half the attention I normally would.

The way his shirt fit tight across his shoulders did something to me. Or maybe it was the way he shook his ass as he reeled in his line.

He looked so good in my boat. I’d wanted to kiss him on more than one occasion, his mouth was hard to keep my eyes off of, but I wasn’t sure how any of it worked. I figured it was best to let him lead.

Besides, I could watch him fish all day. Every day.

“Whoa. Whoa. I felt something,” he stammered.

I dropped my rod and went to stand on his open side, away from his pole.

“Got a nibble, huh? Okay. When you feel that, don’t reel as much. Just give it a few light twitchy pulls. Give him a chance to hit your lure.”

He looked at me and nodded quickly, concentrating on doing it just right. His line reached the boat and he gave it a nice clean toss right under a limb about thirty feet out.

It was such pretty cast.

Then, he worked his magic. Pulling at the right times. Reeling when he should. Like magic, a fish hit his line.

“There’s a second where you don’t want to move. Then yank and set your hook. Crank like hell back to the boat,” I whispered, not wanting him to lose his fish—our first catch of the day.

His pole bowed under the weight of the fish.

“I got it. I think I’ve got it.”

I grabbed the net and crouched down to pull the fish out for him.

It was a nice one too. A keeper. Just like him, I thought to myself as I looked up at him. He was in the zone and it was sexy as anything I’d ever seen.

I grabbed the bass by the mouth, careful not to catch my thumb on the hook.

“Look at you. Real nice catch. We’re keeping this bad boy.”

I went to hand him the fish so I could get a bucket to fill the well, and the pliers. Those hooks weren’t anything to mess with, in my experience. There’s no amount of fishing you can do to keep one of those from ruining a perfectly good day. They’re bastards no matter who you are.

“Okay. Just hold him like I am. Put your thumb in his mouth. It’s rough, but he can’t hurt you. Watch that hook.”

“I’m used to getting bitten. I’m a dentist.”

I chuckled, he was probably telling the truth.

He took it, again following my instruction without any hesitation.

I filled the well and found the tool.

“Okay, do you want me to do this or do you want to try?”

“I want to try,” he answered adamantly and lifted his shades to the bill of his hat. I prayed he’d leave them there. I’d missed seeing his eyes.

I had to respect a man who didn’t want a woman taking his fish off the hook.

Impressed, I handed him the tool and he skillfully unsnagged it from the lip of the fish, much gentler than I’d been known to do, by the way.

“Throw number one in there,” I told him. “See I told you you’d catch something.”

I liked that he took to it so well, and even though I hadn’t been going easy on him by not catching anything first, really I’d just been distracted.

He’d caught one and all bets were off. I was about to get my fish on.

“So you think you’ll catch any or you gonna let me have all the fun,” he challenged, a cocky grin spread across his stubble-covered face.

“You sit back and watch a pro,” I countered.

I loved the competition. There was no way to know for sure if he was having fun, but by eleven thirty in the morning we’d each caught about nine, and we’d already cracked open our first beers while we took a little break.

“You’re pretty good, Vaughn. I’m wondering if it was a mistake to show you all my sweet spots. You’ll be back here without me, cleaning them out.”

“Your sweet spots? I think there are a few more I don’t know about yet.” He winked and I almost choked on my beer.

“Are you hungry?” I asked before I attacked him on my boat.

“A little, but I’m not really that ready to head back yet. I think we should try to fill that tub up.”

Goddamn, how I loved the sound of that.

“We don’t have to go back,” I assured him. “I packed us a couple sandwiches.”

“You did?”

“Oh, yeah. I had the deli make us some turkey subs and got a thing of pasta salad.”