Текст книги "Tell Me"

Автор книги: Olivia Cunning

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Gabe used his hands to ease her pussy wider. She was pretty sure he was trying to rip her in half.

“It’ll hurt for just a second,” he promised. He grabbed her hips and suddenly thrust hard. A large bump on the underside of his cock stretched her beyond her limit.

She whimpered in pain.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered. “I need to design a better way to insert it. I promise it will feel amazing once I find your spot.”

Gabe, plus whatever sleeve he was wearing over his cock, slipped deeper. When the thickened nub on the underside of the device rubbed against her front wall and found the spot he was referring to, she groaned.

“There it is,” he said. “I’m going to turn it on now. Are you ready?”

She didn’t know what she was agreeing to, but she nodded. The nub inside her vibrated hard against her G-spot, and pleasure shot through her entire body. Gabe began to move and apparently the sleeve around his cock was doing something for him too because he was groaning and gasping and swearing under his breath with each thrust. The motion of his hips moved the cock sleeve just enough to rub that maddening vibrating nub against Melanie’s G-spot over and over and over again. She wasn’t sure when she’d started coming, but she was pretty sure she wouldn’t ever be able to stop.

“Tell me when you come, baby, so I can pull out the beads,” he said.

“I’m already.” She gasped.

“Did I miss it? I can’t tell when I’m wearing the sleeve. It massages the base of my cock so good, but it prevents me from feeling you squeeze me when you come.”

“Still… coming. Oh… God.”

“Take a deep breath.”

She tried, but she was gasping too hard. Were those tears on her cheeks? Or drool? Was it possible to literally explode from pleasure?

She felt a harsh tug on her ass and the first bead popped free. She cried out, her fingers clinging to the bedclothes beneath her face as she held on for another round of exquisite pleasure. The successive and rapid removal of the beads sent deeper waves of bliss crashing through her body. She couldn’t even track what was happening to her any longer. Gabe soothed her raw and quivering ass with his fingertips. She whimpered as he thrust his hips faster and churned deep inside her. She wasn’t sure when she started begging for mercy, but she simply couldn’t take any more.

“Too much, Gabe. Too much. Too much. Oh God.”

“Rub your clit,” Gabe murmured. “It will help.”

“I don’t need to come again,” she snapped. “I need to stop coming.”

“Well, if you won’t do what you’re told…”

Still massaging her in the back with one hand, he reached his free hand around her and massaged her clit with the exact same cadence. She cried out as a more familiar orgasm ripped through her pussy, and he was right—it let the one caused by overstimulation of her G-spot to fade from torture to bliss.

Gabe’s motions became jerky behind her, and he called out as he joined her in release. He shook and sputtered far longer than was usual, and then he collapsed against her back, his arms falling limp on either side of her body.

“That was fucking amazing,” he murmured.

She murmured something unintelligible in agreement. She’d never felt anything like what she’d just experienced. That had been so much more than a typical orgasm. She was going to name it megagasm. Or she would once she remembered how to move her tongue.

“I have to pull out before I’m too soft,” Gabe said. “It should be easier coming out than going in.”

She was boneless, so she didn’t have to concentrate on relaxing for him. It was the only condition she could experience at the moment. He tugged the device free of her body and set it aside. She would admire its ingenious design eventually. For now she would just lie face-down on the bed and float on a sea of tranquility.

She must have nodded off. Her next conscious sensation was a wet tickle against the sole of one foot. She lifted her head and found Beau sampling the flavor of her toes.

“Gabe,” she mumbled. “I think your dog wants out.”

“He’s already been out,” Gabe said. “There’s a doggie door to the back yard.”

She flopped her head over in the other direction and found Gabe lying beside her, looking as exhausted as she felt.

“How long have I been unconscious?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. I think it’s already Tuesday.”

She chuckled. “So four days?”

“At least.”

Melanie stretched languorously and snuggled up against Gabe’s side. “What?” she said, “No breakfast in bed? What kind of host are you?”

He squeezed her hand. “I’ll take you out to a great little diner for breakfast,” he said. “As soon as I can move.”

“I can’t believe you’re worn out already.” The reason she was giving him such a hard time was because she was pretty sure her quivering legs would be unable to support her. “Is that jetted tub in your bathroom big enough for two?” she asked. Maybe a nice underwater massage would rejuvenate her tired muscles and soothe the ache between her thighs.

“Yeah.”

She forced her exhausted body to slide from the bed. She was surprised when her legs supported her weight. “Care to join me?”

“Baby, I couldn’t fuck you right now if my life depended on it.”

“That’s not why I asked,” she said. “I’m craving the pleasure of your company, not your cock.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he promised and closed his eyes, his face slack.

She smiled, figuring he’d need the better of the part of the morning to recover, not just a minute, but she hobbled toward the bathroom and turned on the faucets to fill the enormous sunken tub with hot water. His bathroom was larger than her entire apartment. And why a single man would need a huge shower with dozens of showerheads was beyond her comprehension.

When the tub was half-full, she collected her shampoo, conditioner, and body wash and climbed into the hot, soothing water. She found an unmarked button on the side of the tub and pushed it, hoping she wasn’t about to be violated by one of Gabe’s crazy inventions, but the tub sputtered and whirred and began to shoot jets of water over her flesh. She sighed in bliss as the massage worked miracles on her aching muscles. She sank beneath the water, wetting her hair, and then jerked upward with an explosive splash when something brushed against her shoulder.

Gabe chuckled. “Did I startle you?”

“Nope,” she said. “That’s how I always wash my hair. Whiplash makes it more manageable.”

“Can I show you how I’d wash it?”

He sank down behind her in the tub, with her seated between his legs.

“Um, yeah, okay,” she said. “But be careful not to get lost in there. My hair’s a rats’ nest this morning.”

“I love your hair,” he said. He turned off the water and then reached for the shampoo. He dumped enough on his palm to wash a small mohawk. She didn’t bother to correct his folly. He’d soon figure out that it took at least half a travel-sized bottle to clean her thick and unruly locks.

“You have gorgeous hair,” he said, burrowing his fingers in the wet mass and snagging on several tangles. “It’s one of the million things about you that I can’t stop thinking about.”

She giggled. “I can’t stop thinking about your hair either.”

He added more shampoo to his hands and began to work it into a rich lather, massaging her scalp so deeply that she sighed in bliss.

“Yeah, well, my hair is pretty unforgettable,” he said.

“It’s your smile that’s unforgettable,” she said and moaned in contentment as he continued to massage frothy, clean-smelling bubbles into her hair.

“If you keep making those sounds, my brain’s going to issue a check that my cock can’t cash.”

“Feels so good,” she murmured. “Don’t stop.”

He washed her hair until her entire body was relaxed, and then he eased her forward so she could lower her head back into the water in the open space between his legs. His fingers worked the shampoo from her hair.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, and she opened her eyes to gaze up at him. He appeared upside down to her, but she could tell he was enjoying the view of her wet, naked body almost as she was enjoying the water jets against the soles of her feet.

“Your hair floating all around me,” he said. “Your skin shiny wet. Your breasts peeking above the surface of the water. Beautiful.”

He cupped her breasts and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples. She shuddered, unable to stop the flood of heat his touch always caused. It didn’t matter that her pussy was tender from the pounding he’d given it less than an hour before, she could feel herself swelling with desire once more.

He helped her sit up again and began to work conditioner into her hair.

“Taking a bath was a great idea,” he said. “My body has decided it can handle a bit more physical activity if you’re game.”

“I’m game,” she said. “You’ll have to take it easy on me though, I’m a little sore.” She flushed as soon as she said it. Were they far enough into their relationship that she could share her discomfort with him?

“Then I’ll try to curb my enthusiasm for your body until later. You’ll just have to dazzle me with your mind.”

She laughed. “Not much dazzling in there,” she said. Not when compared to someone as smart as Gabe was.

“So what do you do with your time outside of accounting and babysitting Nikki?” he asked. “What’s your family like? Did you have pets growing up? Tell me everything.”

“Babysitting Nikki is a full-time job in itself,” she said with a laugh.

“How did you meet her?”

“I first met her when I was six. We spent an entire summer playing in the park. Then she moved away and I lost track of her. Imagine my surprise when she was assigned as my roommate freshman year of college.”

“So you two are the same age?” he asked. “You always seem so much older than her.”

“Gee, thanks. Call the retirement home, Melanie’s escaped again.”

“I didn’t mean old, I meant more mature. Like you have your life together. Know what you’re doing.”

“Does anyone really know what they’re doing? Some of us are just better than others at pretending we have a fail-proof plan. Did you plan to be a rock drummer?”

“Well, no, I didn’t plan it.”

“There you go.”

“Did you always plan to be an accountant?”

She laughed. “Nope. I wanted to be an entomologist, but my parents convinced me that collecting butterflies was not a reasonable vocation for a responsible individual.”

Thinking about butterflies made her think about Nikki, reminding Melanie that she still hadn’t called or texted. Melanie couldn’t help the worry that churned in her belly. Or maybe she was just hungry.

“See, now, that’s interesting,” he said. “I figured you’d be the type to squeal like a girl when confronted by an insect.”

“First off, I am a girl. You’d think the breasts would have clued you in.” She swept both hands at her fully displayed boobs as if she were a game show hostess showing fabulous prizes. “And second, I’m not fond of all insects. Just butterflies. I used to collect them as a child. Dead bugs all over my bedroom walls—pinned to little squares of cotton batting inside wooden shadow boxes, their wings pressed flat against the glass. Kind of morbid, don’t you think?”

“Not at all. If you hung cockroaches and dung beetles on your wall, I might be a tad concerned, but butterflies? I’m sure they were pretty. Maybe we’ll see some at the lake today. You can tell me their species.”

She hadn’t focused on butterflies for years. “If I remember them.”

“Tell me about your parents. From what little you’ve mentioned, they sound a bit stuffy.”

“Stuffy? That’s putting it mildly. They were so overprotective, I’m surprised they allowed me to breathe unpurified air.”

“Why were they so overprotective? Because you were so cute?” He tapped her nose.

She shook her head, not because she hadn’t been a cute kid, but because their reasons were a bit deeper than that.

“They were in their mid-40s when I was born. I had an older brother, but he drowned in a kiddie pool in the back yard years and years before I came into the world. He was only three, but his loss devastated my parents and they weren’t planning on having any more kids. Then surprise! Melanie decides to defy all forms of birth control and make her entrance. They were so afraid of losing me that they smothered me. I can’t be too angry with them about it. And at least I never had to wonder if I was loved. What about your family? You never talk about them.”

“Not much to say. Eternally married, well-rounded, fairly nonpsychotic parents. Three kids spaced exactly eighteen months apart. Two family dogs. Happy home. Very boring.”

“You have siblings?”

“Yeah, two sisters. Both older.”

“Are they also musically inclined?” she asked, trying to picture what his sisters would look like, who they were. And she wondered about his parents too. She wished she could meet them all. Maybe someday.

“Nope. I got all the percussion genes in the family.”

“Are your sisters married? Do they have kids? Are you an uncle?” She wondered what Gabe was like with kids. Weren’t men who were good with animals supposed to be good with kids? His dogs obviously adored him.

“Not yet. My mom is dying for grandkids,” he said. “I’m glad she has my sisters to pester about it. Being the youngest and her only son does have its perks.”

Under a running tap, Melanie rinsed the conditioner from her hair and turned to face him.

“Can we go fishing now?” she asked.

“Breakfast first,” he said.

She’d forgotten she was starving. “Okay, then fishing.”

“I thought you didn’t want to go fishing.”

“I couldn’t care less about fishing,” she admitted, “but we’ll have all day together to talk just like this, right?”

He smiled with thought-shattering perfection. “I suppose we will.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his lips. “Best plans ever. We don’t even have to make love for the rest of the day, and I’ll be perfectly content.”

Gabe lifted both hands to in an attempt to calm her obvious hysterics. “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” he said. “Let’s not get hasty here.”

Melanie climbed from the tub, and reached for a towel. “I’ll also be perfectly content with anything you want to try, Dr. Kink.”

Chapter Twelve

The diner was quaint, the kind of place a person wouldn’t likely visit if they were just passing by. The locals held no such qualms regarding the outdated décor and sagging awning outside. Apparently they came for the food, not the ambiance. Melanie tried not to notice the dirty grout between the linoleum tiles or the spots on her fork.

“Well, if it isn’t Gabriel Banner,” their waitress said.

“Hey, Fiona,” Gabe said.

“What brings you to town, sugar?” Fiona nodded toward Melanie. “I’d guess it was the purty lady, but I ain’t never seen her before, so she cain’t be local.”

“We came all the way from New Orleans just for your mama’s biscuits and sausage gravy. You know I can’t stay away.”

She laughed and tapped the bill of Gabe’s ball cap with her order pad. Melanie might have been jealous of the woman’s obvious flirting, but she had to have been pushing eighty. Melanie couldn’t imagine how her mama was still capable of running the kitchen of a busy restaurant.

“I don’t know why I even bother to take your order. What would your lady friend like?” Fiona stood with her pen hovering over her tablet.

“What’s good?” Melanie asked, looking over the single page menu in its yellowed plastic sleeve.

“Uh, the sausage gravy and biscuits are good,” Gabe said. “I’ve never tried anything else.”

“He’s been coming here since he was knee-high to an armadillo,” Fiona said. “And he always gets the same thing. Always. Always.”

“I guess I’ll have what he’s having,” Melanie said. “I hope my stomach can handle all that grease.”

Gabe cringed, and Melanie wondered what she’d said to cause such a reaction in him.

He relaxed when Fiona just laughed. “Sugar, if you cain’t handle a little grease, you in the wrong restaurant.”

Fiona started to sashay away, but Gabe caught the hem of her apron.

“While you’re at it, could you put in an order for fried chicken with sides to go?” he asked.

“Headin’ to the lake?” she asked.

“That’s the plan.”

“I gotcha, sugar. You just keep smiling pretty for your lady friend.”

Melanie smiled. His lady friend. She hoped he thought of her as something a little more serious than a friend.

While they waited for their meal, Melanie asked Gabe about his favorite foods, the restaurants he liked to visit, and even whether he preferred sandwich crusts on or off. He answered her readily enough, but she felt more like she was interviewing him than having a conversation. He never volunteered information willingly. She wondered if he was that way with everyone.

The gravy and biscuits were to die for and she was glad he’d shared a bit of himself by bringing her here. But she was starting to worry that she was trying too hard. Did her endless trivial questions annoy him? Would he rather talk about string theory and existentialism? Or was he just the strong silent type?

After breakfast and after collecting their picnic lunch for later, Gabe drove her back to the house to pick up their fishing gear and a couple of very eager dogs.

He opened the door of the enormous detached garage and strode inside. Melanie followed him. Like the house, the garage had a log cabin façade. Melanie was certain Gabe could fit ten cars in the expansive space, but apparently he wasn’t a collector of cars. He was fond of water craft and recreational vehicles, however. Parked inside the garage were four boats on trailers—a row boat, a small speed boat, a large speed boat, and a pontoon. There were also jet skis, a smallish silver camper, several ATVs and a rather beat-up dirt bike. The man was full of surprises.

“I didn’t realize you were so outdoorsy,” she said as she watched him choose fishing poles from the long rack on one wall.

“I wish I had time to spend more time outside,” he said. “There’s nothing more relaxing than sitting in the middle of a lake with a line out and nothing to do but think.”

She knew that he liked to think.

“I get my best ideas out on the lake,” he said. “And with you there as inspiration, I’m sure my imagination will run wild.”

“It doesn’t sound like you get much fishing done.”

“The point of fishing isn’t to catch fish,” he said.

“It’s not?”

“Heck no.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

He handed her a fishing pole. “Which boat do you want to take?” he asked. “Or I have the big one docked at the marina.”

A marina in the middle of Texas? Weren’t marinas supposed to be marine, as in at the ocean?

“Whatever is easiest,” she said.

“Marina it is. Did you bring a swimsuit?”

“I didn’t know I’d be going swimming.”

“Skinny dipping for you then.”

“I hope it’s a private lake,” she said.

“Not even close.”

He grabbed a tackle box from the garage and closed the doors. He convinced her to wear a tank top and shorts and then slathered her with sunscreen. He looked mighty fine in his own shorts and T-shirt but when he replaced his ball cap with a cowboy hat, she laughed. Until he grinned at her from beneath the wide brim and her heart went pitter-pat. Melanie decided there wasn’t anything funny about Gabe Banner in a cowboy hat.

Fishing poles, tackle, a picnic of chicken, and two enthusiastic dogs in tow, they headed toward Lake Travis.

Melanie didn’t know what she had expected, but the enormous, clear lake surrounded by hills and trees far exceeded her expectations. They bypassed a long line of vehicles at the boat ramp.

“Good call on the marina,” Gabe said.

Her very first fishing license in hand, Melanie was soon seated inside Gabe’s sleek 37-foot powerboat. She knew it was that long because he had very proudly told her so. There was seating at the front of the boat, which he informed her was the bow, a cockpit in the center, and more seating in the rear. Gabe climbed behind the wheel, and his two dogs scampered toward the bow, standing in the seat with their tongues lolling and ears flapping in the breeze as he directed the boat out of the marina and across the large lake. Melanie chose a safer perch at the back of the boat. At least she thought it was safe. When Gabe increased the boat’s speed and cranked the wheel sharply, a spray of water flooded over the side into her lap.

She leaped to her feet and used her hands to sluice the water down her legs. “You did that on purpose,” she accused.

He just grinned at her from the shadows of his cowboy hat. “Maybe you should come up here with me,” he said. “Do you want to pilot?”

On wobbly legs she slid her feet along the slippery deck on her trek toward the seat beside him. “No, thank you.”

“I could teach you to waterski,” he said, nodding toward another boat that towed a skier behind it. Water arced away from the skier, who looked to be having a fabulous time racing over the lake at high speed.

For a minute, Melanie thought it looked like fun, but then the skier hit the wake of the boat and face-planted hard on the surface of the water. Melanie decided water skiing looked more hazardous than fun.

“I think I’ll pass,” she said. “I thought we were going to fish.”

“We are. I’m just showing off to impress you. Don’t you know how guys are?”

She chuckled. “I was impressed before we arrived.”

He pulled back the throttle to slow the boat and directed it toward a quiet cove at the shore. As the lake was a dam reservoir, it was surrounded mostly by cliffs and overhangs, but this hidden cove had a small area of shoreline. When the boat drifted to a stop, both dogs immediately leaped into the water. Beau took a trip around the boat and then climbed up onto a ledge on the stern. He hopped into the boat and shook the water from his fur, showering Melanie with cool droplets. Apparently she needed a swimsuit even if she had no plans to swim. Lady swam all the way to shore and climbed up on the bank.

“Lady, get back here,” Gabe said, clapping at her, trying to get her attention. “Come, girl.”

She stood on the shore and barked at him, bouncing playfully on her front paws as if to say, Come and get me if you want me!

“Pardon my poorly behaved dog,” Gabe said to Melanie.

“I think she wants to play.”

“I think she wants to drive me nuts.”

Beau covered his eyes with one paw, as if embarrassed by the antics of his dark-furred counterpart.

“Get the stick, Lady,” Gabe said, flapping his hand toward the shore. “Get the stick, girl.”

Lady stopped barking and sniffed the ground. She disappeared into a copse of trees and Melanie gasped, pivoting toward Gabe. How upset would he be if his dog got lost? But he didn’t look worried. He was studying the tree line, arms folded across his chest, eyes watching from the shadow of the brim of his cowboy hat. And she needn’t have worried either. Less than a minute later the dog appeared back at the shore with a branch in her mouth. She struggled to drag it toward the water, walking backward and tugging when the branch got tangled on some brush.

Gabe laughed her. “That’s a mighty big stick you have there.”

Lady eventually got it into the lake and after some maneuvering, collected one end of the branch in her mouth and started paddling back toward the boat.

“She’s really smart,” Melanie said, watching the dog pull the branch through the water.

“She’s the most stubborn and independent dog I’ve ever owned.” He chuckled as Lady tried to get the branch onto the boat. “I guess that’s why she stole my heart.”

Well, Melanie guessed that meant that she would just have to wrestle his heart away from dog, because she wanted it, teeth marks and all.

“That stick is too big, silly,” Gabe told Lady as he stretched his body over the back of the boat and grabbed the branch out of the water. He broke off a more reasonably sized length of wood and tossed it toward shore.

“Go get the stick,” he said to Lady.

She gave him a look that could only mean I just brought you a better stick than that little thing, dumbass, but turned in the water and started swimming toward shore again.

Melanie laughed. “I don’t think she’s very impressed with your stick, Mr. Banner.”

He grinned. “You’re the one I’m trying to impress, remember?”

Melanie pinched his ass. “I’m overly impressed with your stick.”

“I’ll share it with you later. It’s best to wear Lady out early,” he said. “Then I can concentrate all my attention on you.”

Melanie looked around for Beau, wondering if he wanted to play too. But he’d already stretched out on one of the seats at the back of the boat for his nap. Melanie decided the yellow lab was more her speed. The black one was already on her way back to the boat, treading water like a pro, her master’s puny stick gripped between her teeth.

Gabe took the stick from his dog and handed it to Melanie. “You give it a toss.”

Her toss was more like a flop. Lady looked bored as she swam the three feet from the boat to retrieve it.

“Ah, I definitely recognize that you’re a girl now,” Gabe said.

“So maybe I should leave the hurling to you,” Melanie said. “Since you’re such an expert at handling a stick.”

“But I think you need practice.” He grinned at her and lowered his head to kiss the tip of her nose, the brim of his hat beaning her in the forehead.

“And I think you need practice kissing girls while wearing a cowboy hat.”

He swept a hand to the side. “The line starts here.”

She swatted him. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, look at all these beauties lining up for a go at me.”

She peered to the empty spot to her left. “It seems you have a line of one.”

“Luckily, it’s the best one.”

He leaned in to kiss her again, tilting his head to close in on her lips. Lady’s insistent whining shortened his promising kiss as he went to tend to her again. After several additional fetches, Lady scrambled back onto the boat, shook out her drenched coat and climbed on top of Beau for a rest. Beau grunted in protest as Lady wriggled around to find a more comfortable position on his large body—which apparently had to include her forepaw under his chin. Beau didn’t move from the spot he’d claimed, though he looked rather annoyed to be considered Lady’s personal doggie bed.

“The calm should last at least thirty minutes,” Gabe said with a chuckle. “Maybe I should have left the dogs at home.”

Melanie shook her head. “They’re having a great time.”

“Yeah, but are you?”

“Of course I am. I always have a great time when I’m with you.”

Fishing pole in hand, Gabe handed her a surprisingly light Styrofoam container that he’d bought at the marina when she’d procured her fishing license.

She gave it a little shake and found it wasn’t empty. “What’s in here? Coleslaw?”

“I don’t think you want to eat that,” he said. He pinched his hook between two fingers and held out his other hand in Melanie’s direction. “Hand me one,” he said.

“One what?”

“Bait.”

She shook her head in incomprehension.

“It’s in the cup.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t been playing coy when she said she’d never been fishing; she was totally clueless. She pried the lid of the cup and peered into it. Something small and white squirmed in a bed of what appeared to be sawdust. On closer inspection, she saw what appeared to be hundreds of plump maggots writhing about in the cup. She screamed and tossed the cup in the air, scrambling away from the spill.

Gabe stared at her. “What are you so freaked out about?”

“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.