by Karen Kelley
She watched as he dug through the earth and brought out fat worms, dropping them in the bucket. When he apparently thought they had enough, he stood.
“Let’s see if we can catch our supper.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then we’ll dine on a can of pork and beans and beef jerky.”
She hoped she caught a fish. At least now she knew she wouldn’t have to exist on worms if something happened to Cal. Not that she thought anything would happen to him. One never knew about those kinds of things, though.
They walked to the water’s edge again and Cal set the bucket down. He handed her a pole, unhooking the hook so the line would swing free.
“Okay, grab a worm out of the bucket and put it on your hook. Then I’ll help you throw your line out.”
She knew damned well fishing would not be the treat he’d said it would, but she refused to let him see just how squeamish she was. So, with more bravado than she was feeling, Nikki reached into the bucket and brought out a worm. It curled around her finger as if it was clinging to her for dear life, and actually, she supposed it was, but right now all she could think about was how much she’d like to throw it on the ground. As it was, it took a supreme effort on her part not to let her body convulse into shivers of repugnance.
“Here’s the worm,” she said, stretching her hand toward him, hoping he’d do the honors of attaching it.
“You have to put it on the hook.”
She took the hook between her fingers, then looked at the worm. “How does it stay on?”
“You have to thread the worm onto the hook.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking, right?”
He shook his head.
She looked at the worm, then at the hook. How hard could it be to ram a sharp hook through a fat, helpless worm? She swallowed past the lump in her throat and wondered if worms had pain sensors.
“It won’t be long until dark and you still have to catch a fish.”
“Okay, okay.”
She took the worm and threaded it onto the hook, knowing Cal saw that her hands shook. She wanted to whisper to the little worm that it was going to a better place but kept her lips firmly clamped together.
“Now what?”
“We cast your line into the water.” He stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her, and she suddenly forgot about her empty stomach or the demise of the worm as new sensations swarmed through her.
“You bring your arms back like this,” he said close to her ear as he showed her.
“Okay.” Her words came out raspy and she wondered if he knew what he was doing to her.
“You hold this button down. That will release the line.”
He flicked the pole with barely any movement except for his wrist. The fishing line whistled as it flew through the air. There was a small plop when it landed in the water. Ripples circled out from where the sinker had landed.
Cal moved away and went to his pole. Nikki’s anticipation of what was about to happen died. Not that she really wanted to skip food for sex. Food first, then sex. But it had been nice when he held her close.
He threaded a worm onto his hook, then tossed his line out the same way he’d shown her. Now what were they supposed to do? Just wait until a fish grabbed the worm on the way by? It seemed pretty boring and time-consuming if you asked her.
“How long does it take to catch a fish?” she finally asked.
He shrugged. “We might not catch one.”
“After I sacrificed a worm? You’re telling me the worm might have died for nothing?”
He chuckled. “It happens sometimes.”
“And you enjoy fishing?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Why?”
“It’s that first tug on your line. It’s the fight. It’s landing a fish after you hook it.”
She didn’t see the enjoyment in it, and after ten minutes passed, she was having doubts that she would have more than pork and beans and jerky for supper.
There was a tug on her pole. The current, nothing more. It stood to reason that if the water was moving, she would feel movement from time to time on her line. There was another tug, but harder.
Her pulse sped up. Her line pulled again, even harder. She gripped the pole. “I have one! I have a fish! I think. What do I do?”
Cal dropped his pole and ran to her. “Hold on tight. Don’t let it get away.”
“Of course I’m not going to let it get away.” The fish was all that stood between her and starvation. “What do I do?”
“Reel it in. Turn the handle on the side. Not too fast.”
It wasn’t as easy as it looked. The fish was really putting up a fight. She was sure she’d snagged a forty-pound shark.
“Play with the fish. Drop your pole a little, then bring it back up as you reel the fish in.”
“I don’t want to play with it. I want to eat it.”
“And you want to keep it on your hook.”
“Whatever.” But she did as he said.
Okay, she admitted to herself it was kind of exciting. Who would’ve thought fishing would be this much of a thrill.
Cal ran into the water and grabbed her line. The fish flopped up in the water. He grabbed it.
“Don’t drop it!”
“I won’t.” He held the fish up for her to see.
She frowned. “That’s it? I thought it would be a lot bigger.” It had felt huge.
“It’s big enough to keep.”
Damned right it was. But it didn’t look as if it was big enough to share. She might be forced to give some of it to Cal since she had no idea how to cook a fish and there wasn’t even a black beast of a stove out here.
Cal put a string in the mouth of the fish and tossed the fish back into the water, then staked the other end firmly into the ground. It was kind of sad. The poor fish would probably think it was free.
Death Row.
Her stomach growled. But it was going to a good cause: her empty stomach.
Nikki reached into the bucket and got another wiggling worm. “It’ll only hurt for a minute,” she said and quickly threaded her hook. The worm wiggled and she stabbed herself.
Retaliation. She should’ve guessed the worm would exact some measure of revenge. Not that it did it any good. She reared back and flung the pole forward.
Nothing happened.
Well, except the worm became a trapeze act without a trapeze as it went flying through the air.
Fly away, fly away worm and be free. She watched until it made a little plop in the water. A fish flopped near where it had landed. Maybe not exactly free.
Crap. Now she would have to start over.
“You didn’t push the button down.”
“Oh.” Darn, she’d forgotten that step. She threaded another worm on the hook, and this time when she threw her line out it actually went into the water. She was starting to like the whistle it made as the line stretched out across the river, then plopped down and disappeared.
“Got one,” Cal said and began to reel his line in.
Excitement flittered through her. Who knew she would have just as much fun watching him reel in a fish as she had when she’d snagged hers. And even better, now she wouldn’t have to share her fish.
“It’s a big one,” he said.
She frowned. Bigger than hers? Maybe he’d share his fish with her since hers was kind of small.
“Don’t lose it,” she said.
“I don’t plan to.”
“Good.”
He raised his pole, turning the reel, then brought it down and repeated it again. The fish flopped out of the water, its body twisting and turning before it went beneath the surface again.
“It’s huge,” she said.
He looked at her and grinned. “Bigger than yours.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not through fishing, either.” She might be a rookie fisherwoman, but she was a fast learner and she didn’t give up easily. She’d get her f
ish and the story. Her parents had taught her the value of winning and she didn’t take losing without a damned good fight.
Chapter 20
Nikki felt a tug on her line. “Ha! I have another one.” She’d started to worry there weren’t any fish left in the river. That little fish she’d caught earlier had started to look smaller and smaller.
“Don’t lose it,” Cal said, then smiled.
She smiled back, then repeated what he’d told her, “I don’t plan to.”
She did exactly as he had and reeled in as she brought the pole up, then gave the fish a little bit of line as she lowered it.
“You’re doing good.”
She grinned. “Yes, I am, aren’t I?”
Until she reeled it in and saw the fish was about the same size as the last one she’d caught, but it had put up a bigger fight. Not that it mattered that much. It was enough for a meal.
Cal caught two more, smaller than his first. Okay, so maybe she didn’t beat him, but at least she’d given it her best shot.
“I’m starved,” he said as he raised the stringer. “What about you?”
She nodded, reeling her line in. “I could eat a horse.” Taffy raised his head and whinnied. They both laughed. What were the odds?
“We’ll need to get a fire started,” Cal said. “Why don’t you do that and I’ll clean the fish.”
Starting a fire sounded much better than cleaning. “What do I need?”
“Some rocks about this size.” He made a fist. “And some wood, small branches and a couple of bigger ones. Don’t get anything too green. You want it as dry as possible so it’ll burn better.”
The task wasn’t that difficult. She had a feeling he was cutting her a little slack, which was fine with her. Looking at fish guts would probably be a whole lot harder than threading a worm on a hook.
She’d just as soon not see the fish die, either. She glanced over her shoulder and watched him for a moment—well, until he began to slice open the fish they’d caught. Bleh. She’d never look at fish on a menu in quite the same way.
And they called her The Barracuda? Some tough predator she was. It wasn’t as though she’d never eaten fish before. She loved fish—as long as it arrived on her plate fully cooked and minus its head.
But fishing had been fun—more than she wanted to admit. She was a city girl, but it certainly didn’t mean she couldn’t like country—to an extent. She sat down on a rock and picked up a stick, and aimlessly drew circles in the dirt.
She liked a whole lot of things, actually. Maybe she should just drop the article. Marge wouldn’t kill her if she didn’t write it. Her boss had even told her as much. Not that Nikki thought Marge had really meant what she was saying. Not when she’d made it sound like a challenge.
Marge might not bother her so much, but what would her parents think? They would look at each other and shake their heads, that’s what they would do. Even if it was a fluff piece, it was still the principle of the matter that counted. She’d taken the job and she had to follow through.
And now that her mother knew about it, she’d want to know what happened. They might not see each other very often but they knew what the other was doing in her career. So maybe she would write the story just to keep everyone off her back.
She was so confused. Damn, she’d never been one to linger on the fence. She always knew what side she was on. Indecision didn’t sit well with her at all. Before the end of this trip, she would decide exactly what she was going to do one way or the other.
Nikki quickly gathered some of the broken branches that were on the ground and went back to camp, not even glancing in the direction of where Cal was still preparing the fish.
By the time she’d gathered rocks along the bank of the river and returned, Cal had finished with the fish.
She watched him as he quickly put a fire together and marveled at how enterprising he was. “I feel as though I’m on an episode of Survivor,” she said.
“Brian and I used to come here a lot to fish and camp out. Sometimes we’d stay for a week.”
“You love your brother a lot.”
He looked up. “We don’t spend nearly as much time together, though. He doesn’t get to the city as much as I’d like, but yeah, I enjoy his company. We’ve always been close.”
“And do you miss all this?”
He looked around. “I do. There’s a peacefulness out here that you can’t find in the city.”
Hadn’t he said his brother worked too hard? Apparently, the ranch was left to both of them since it had belonged to their grandparents. Cal had said he was thinking about retiring. She wondered if that meant he’d be going into business with Brian.
She glanced around, absorbing the quiet. Nothing moved, not even a leaf. Sure, fishing had been fun, but she certainly wouldn’t want to make the country her home. It was as she’d first thought: she and Cal were total opposites.
“Do you have brothers or sisters?” Cal asked, breaking the silence.
She’d welcome any conversation right now. “No. It’s only me and my parents.”
Nikki sat on the ground, crossing her legs, but as soon as she felt the muscles pull, she uncrossed them and stretched them out in front of her instead. You’d think working out in the gym would have kept her from being so sore.
“Do you see them often?” he asked.
“I guess. We meet the second Saturday every other month. We usually take in a play and go out to eat.” She smiled. “Quality time.”
“They live out of town then.”
She frowned. “Well, no, but they’re very busy. They both have successful careers.”
“But they make an appointment to see you.”
She came to her feet. It wasn’t that comfortable sitting on the ground. And how the hell had he turned the conversation to her life? He wasn’t the reporter; he was a football player.
“It’s not like that,” she said.
“If you say so.”
“I do.” But now that she thought about it, he was right. They made appointments to see her. It was the same way during holidays. She went to their house at Christmas and spent exactly four hours there. They opened their one present—something practical—then went to a restaurant and ate dinner.
But she enjoyed her time with them and she really hated that they might be moving to Washington. Damn it, he was making her question her life again and she didn’t want to examine it too closely.
Because she was afraid of what she might see?
“I think I’ll take a walk.”
“You okay?” He didn’t look up.
“I’m going to the bathroom.” She wasn’t, but she really doubted he would ask her anything else if she used that as an excuse. Men usually shied away from that sort of thing.
Cal watched her walk away and was riddled with guilt. Why had he pushed her about her parents? How the hell was he supposed to know her family had a business arrangement with her?
Maybe he’d suspected it from the little things she’d told him here and there, but he hadn’t realized it was as bad as what she’d just told him. What was worse, she didn’t seem to mind.
No wonder she’d gotten the nickname The Barracuda. Look at how she was raised. He shook his head and went back to preparing their meal.
Once the fire was burning good, he set the skillet in the center and waited for the oil to get hot. He’d already rolled the fish filets in cornmeal.
When he thought about families who made appointments to see each other, Cal realized that he and Brian were getting close to doing the same thing. They’d made an appointment to go riding on Friday.
No, it wasn’t the same as Nikki and her parents. He and Brian still had meals together and they dropped in on each other all the time. They didn’t have to schedule time to see each other, but apparently Nikki did.
What? Did he feel sorry for her now? Was he going soft? No, Nikki wanted a story and she’d do anything to get it. He wouldn’t forget that fact, either.
He glanced up as she returned and couldn’t help but notice the rise and fall of her breasts, the gentle swing in her hips. Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t know any state secrets because it wouldn’t take much to make him guilty of treason.
He focused on placing the fish in the skillet. They sizzled when they hit the hot grease. “Hand me a plate,” he said.
“Do you and your brother come out here often?” she asked after she handed him a couple of plates.
She eased to the ground. She was still sore. Maybe he’d rub the liniment in the places she wouldn’t be able to reach. He closed his eyes and counted very slowly to five.
“Not as much as we used to,” he said.
“Why?”
“No time, I guess.”
“Am I the first girl you’ve ever brought out here?” she asked as she looked around.
Nikki might have put her pole down but she was still fishing. “You’re the first.”
“Then I’m honored.”
He busied himself opening the can of pork and beans, then dumped them into a pan.
“Tell me about football. When did you get started playing?”
Was she planning on dragging his career through the mud, too?
“I started in peewee. I was eight.”
She smiled. “I bet you were cute.”
He relaxed. Maybe she just wanted to know more about him. “Why would you think that?”
“Because you’re a handsome man. Did all the cheerleaders start drooling when you walked by after you got older?”
“Who said they ever stopped?”
She laughed. “Oh, that was bad. I didn’t know you had an ego that big.”
Something about her was different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He wondered if she sensed the change, too. Maybe she would get her story, but he had a feeling she would get a whole lot more than just an article about him and Cynthia.
Cal finished frying the fish and set the pan of pork and beans on the fire. As soon as they were warm, he poured some on the two plates and added a filet of fish to each. “Here you go,” he said and handed her a plate.
“Is this how people traveled a long time ago? A couple of tin plates, a couple of forks, a spoon, and some iron pans?”