Olivia Cunning - Tell Me

“Your bait is infested with maggots.”

He chuckled. “My bait is maggots.”

She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, her stomach heaving. She should have said no to the sausage gravy.

“You are such a girl,” Gabe said.

“I thought we’d already established that,” she mumbled against her hand.

He stooped down to scoop the escaped maggots back into the cup with his bare hand.

“Oh my God,” she said, swallowing hard to keep her breakfast where it belonged. “You are never touching me with that hand again.”

“Oh, please,” he said, piercing the body of a wriggling maggot with his hook. “You aren’t afraid of a baby fly are you?”

“Afraid of? No.” She turned her head, unable to watch him add a second creature to his hook. “Disgusted by? Very much so.”

“I guess I should have gone with the fish heads,” he said. “You have to jab the hook right through the eyes, otherwise you hit bone.”

Melanie shuddered at the image his words conjured. “Are you trying to make me throw up?”

“Of course not. What kind of asshole would describe poking a hook into a slimy worm’s ass and threading the metal all the way through the center of the squirmy thing’s body?”

“You, obviously, would never be that kind of asshole,” she said.

He chuckled and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. “Ah well, it wouldn’t bother you if you weren’t such a girl.”

She glared at him, but couldn’t stay perturbed at someone so obviously trying to get a rise out of her.

He cast his line into the water with practiced ease, turned a little crank until something clicked inside the reel, and then placed the handle of the pole into a holder on the edge of the boat.

“Your turn,” he said, holding a rod in her direction.

“My turn to what?”

“Bait your hook.”

She licked her lips nervously and took a step closer to the container of squirmy things. As soon as they were in view, she averted her gaze and squeezed her eyes shut. “Will you do it for me?” she asked. “Please.”

“And I thought you once wanted to be an entomologist. Do baby butterflies freak you out too?

“No, but caterpillars are vegetarians. They don’t devour rotting flesh.”

“But these are clean maggots,” he tried reasoning with her.

There was no way in hell that she was touching a maggot, much less impaling it on a sharp spike of metal.

“I’ll just watch you fish,” she said.

Gabe sighed and taking pity on her, he baited her hook. He then showed her how to cast and reel in her line. She found she was really bad at casting—her bobbing thingy never landed more than a few feet from the side of the boat—and she didn’t have the patience to just let the line sit without reeling. So she cast and reeled and cast and reeled and cast and reeled, lost her bait, and waited for Gabe to resupply it before casting and reeling some more.

Gabe eventually took her pole, cast her line dozens of yards across the lake, and then stuck the handle in a holder rather than giving the pole back to her.

“Now for the most important part of fishing,” he said, sitting on a front-facing bench seat and extending his arm across its back. He patted the empty space beside him and she sat.

“What’s the most important part?”

“Sitting quietly and letting your mind wander.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her upper arm a squeeze. The scenery was breathtaking, but she only lasted about three minutes before she felt compelled to break the silence.

“Have you been fishing a lot?” she asked.

“Mmm hmm, now quiet. You’ll scare the fish away.”

“They can’t possibly hear me all the way underwater,” she whispered.

“You’d be surprised.”

Determined to be quiet, she stared at her orange and yellow bobber, watching it jerk underwater, rise to the surface, and disappear underwater again.

“Why is it doing that?” She whispered so she wouldn’t scare the fish.

“Probably because you have a bite,” Gabe said calmly.

She leaped for her pole, jerking it out of the holder and reeling as fast as she could. The tip of the pole bent in arc and the faster she reeled, the harder the fish pulled in the opposite direction. Her heart pounded with excitement, which didn’t make a lick of sense to her—she had a fish at the end of a string, not a shark launching itself into their boat.

When the small greenish fish rose from the surface of the water, she turned toward Gabe.

“Nice bass,” he said and nodded toward her butt.

“What do I do with it?” Melanie cringed and held one hand in front of her face to prevent the flailing fish from flicking slimy water in her eyes as it struggled for freedom.

A scraping of claws came from the rear of the boat. Before Melanie could comprehend that Lady was after her fish, a pair of paws landed on her chest, sending her staggering backward. The backs of her calves hit something solid. Unbalanced, she toppled over the side of the boat and landed in the lake with a stupendous splash.

Heart in his throat, Gabe rushed to the bow and was poised to leap into the water to rescue Melanie when she surfaced. She treaded water with one hand and pushed her mass of curls from her face with her other.

“Can you swim?” he yelled, still prepared to jump in after her.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She focused her attention on Lady, who was at Gabe’s side barking excitedly and wagging her tail as if trying to kick up a wind storm. “Bad dog,” she said and then she laughed.

“Very bad dog,” Gabe agreed. “Go lie down.”

He pointed to the back of the boat where Beau was still sleeping.

Lady refused to be chastised. She bounced around on the front seat and then leaped over the side to join Melanie’s fun.

“I lost your pole,” Melanie said as she paddled around to the back of the boat where there was a ledge and a ladder.

“I don’t care about the goddamned pole. I just don’t want to lose you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m a good swimmer,” she called from the water. “My parents made sure of it.”

He remembered that her little brother had drowned, so it made sense that her parents had made sure she could swim. He silently praised them for their overprotectiveness. He felt a bit of it himself. Even though she sucked at fishing, this woman was precious to him. If something happened to her… He shook off the thought, not wanting to even think about the possibility.

Lady swam beside Melanie, obviously thinking they were having some sort of race. Lady showed off her impressive water-dog breeding by swimming laps around the human. Crazy dog. Gabe was going to have to keep her on a leash if she refused to behave.

After Melanie reached the back of the boat and hefted herself onto the diving platform, Gabe grabbed her by her upper arms and hauled her on board. He probably should have teased her about being graceless and a poor fisherman, but all he could do was wrap her in both arms and hold her dripping body securely against his.

He rubbed his lips against her forehead, “You scared me,” he murmured. “Don’t ever fall off my boat again.”

“I think you need to take that up with your dog.”

He looked down at the beast in question, now sitting in the seat next to Beau and making a huge puddle. Tongue flopping in and out of her wide mouth as she panted, Lady met his eyes, her head cocked to one side as if to say, Well, that was fun, what next? It was really hard to stay mad at the damned dog.

“Do you have a towel?” Melanie asked. She pulled away from him and twisted the hem of her tank top, splattering his bare feet with cool water.

“Yeah.”

He released her, begrudgingly, and pulled a towel from a compartment under one of the bench seats.

“I lost one of my shoes,” Melanie said, peering down at one bare foot.

He wrapped her in the huge beach towel and then hugged her against him again. He heard his line take off as a fish took his bait, but he ignored it. His need to hold Melanie far outweighed his desire to catch fish. There was another splash, and Gabe sighed when he caught sight of a length of black fur swimming in the water again.

“I think you have a bite,” Melanie said.

“Mmm hmm.” He drew her closer.

“And Lady is in the water again.”

“Yep.” He rubbed her back through the towel, wishing they were alone and naked, entwined in each other’s arms.

“I’m okay, Gabe,” she said. “Honest.”

He kissed her deeply just to make sure.

A very wet dog interrupted their kiss by dropping something cold and soggy on Gabe’s foot. Startled—because there was no telling what Lady had fished out of the water—he jerked away and looked down at Melanie’s lost shoe.

“You found my shoe!” Melanie cried out, dropping to her knees to give Lady an appreciative scratch behind the ears. “Good girl.” Lady licked Melanie’s face before she could escape the dog’s wide tongue. Melanie only laughed and rubbed Lady’s head some more.

Lady was so pleased with herself that she picked up the shoe, carried it to the back of the boat, and commenced chewing. In less than half a minute, Melanie’s cute canvas shoe was in shreds.

Gabe slapped himself in the forehead. “Shit, Mel, I’m sorry. Bad dog!”

Melanie just laughed. “Finders keepers, losers weepers. I’ll just have to gnaw on one of her chew toys when we get back to your house.”

He was glad his woman was so laid back and, well, nice. Not to mention nice to look at. When she lifted the towel to dry her hair, he couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering to the wet tank top clinging distractingly to her round breasts.