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 fuckers.”
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.
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.