by Nancy Pirri
Bait Shop Blues
by Nancy Pirri
Published by
Satin Romance
An Imprint of Melange Books, LLC
White Bear Lake, MN 55110
www.satinromance.com
Bait Shop Blues, Copyright 2014 Nancy Pirri
ISBN: 978-1-61235-820-8
Names, characters, and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published in the United States of America.
Cover Design by Caroline Andrus
BAIT SHOP BLUES
by Nancy Pirri
For Cassandra Thompson, a Marilyn Monroe look-alike who's recently been dumped by her second fiancé in two years, it could mean a well-needed change in life.
For Leif Halverson, a handsome man of Ojibwa extraction, and co-owner of the shop, it could mean disaster—like falling in love. Leif is far from happy about this city woman invading his territory so he challenges her to a wilderness survival contest where the winner takes all.
This book is dedicated to my children,
Emily, Katie, Caroline, and Michael.
Thanks for allowing me the time to pursue my dream
What people are saying about Bait Shop Blues
Nancy Pirri has written a fun and humorous novel filled with characters I wanted to become friends with. What I enjoyed tremendously were her fabulous descriptions and the energetic dialogue she created. I found myself laughing, wanting to jump in and become part of the story. Yes, Ms. Pirri caught me--hook, line and sinker with Bait Shop Blues.
Romance Junkies
Bait Shop Blues was one of the most fun stories I have read in a long time! Nancy Pirri created energetic, personable characters that it was impossible not to fall in love with. I’ve always been a believer in the theory that opposites attract, and Cassie and Leif reaffirmed that belief. Ms. Pirri not only indulged her imagination and creativity, but she made sure to pay attention to details as well. I could picture the lake, and almost smell the forest. Being able to immerse the reader in the story is the mark of a truly gifted author. I’d have to say that Nancy Pirri qualifies! I can’t wait to read more from her!
Reviewed by Tracy Atencio
Heartstrings Reviews
Nancy Pirri’s Bait Shop Blues is well-written and draws the reader right into the Minnesota landscape and battle that begins to heat up between these two very stubborn and determined people. I thoroughly enjoyed this one and look forward to reading more books by Ms. Pirri.
Reviewed by Sally Painter
Word Museum
Pirri has crafted a tale about fishing, camping, and love in northern Minnesota. Her fun writing style makes for a great read. Take out a cup of tea and enjoy a tale of two headstrong personalities clashing as they fight natural instincts.
Reviewed by Eileen Key for
The Road to Romance
In Bait Shop Blues, author Nancy Pirri has written a fun insightful look at male/female relationships. The two protagonists butt heads and challenge one-another every inch of the way. Will Leif get his bait shop back along with his quiet life as a fishing guide, or will the citified interloper have her way in creating a modern resort that will destroy the wilderness forever? Read this wonderful story to find out the surprising answer.
Reviewed by Edie
Night Owl Reviews
Sparks start flying even before they walk off the tarmac and the fun begins! Hooked by the antics of Lief and Cassie as they struggle to accommodate their opposite styles in business and love, Nancy Pirri just reels the readers into this fun, yet highly intense, captivating interplay between the two sparring partners. Set in the pristine lakes area of Minnesota, you share Cassie's first sight of the swaying northern lights, flashing green and red, while she ponders on her decision to go or stay. Is this where she will make her life or is it just to be a northern vacation?
Effectively interwoven into this very readable romance is Lief's reconnection to his unknown father's family and a better understanding of his Native American mother, Annie Hightower, now making a new start on the Red Lake Reservation. Will these newly gained insights allow him to cut through the heavy barriers Cassie placed around her heart, deeply scarred from being left at the altar? Catch hold of Bait Shop Blues and you'll soon find out!
Reviewer: Audrey Lawrence
The Romance Studio
With Bait Shop Blues, Pirri writes a strong story with two determined lead characters. Cassie and Leif are alone together for most of the story, and the subplot of her two failed engagements drive their sexual tension. The plot is further developed by vivid descriptions of northern Minnesota's lakes and woods.
Reviewed By: Karen Sweeny-Justice
Romantic Times Reviews
Table of Contents
Bait Shop Blues
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
About the Author
Previews
Chapter One
Leif Flying Eagle emitted a low whistle at the sight of the pretty woman with short, silvery-blonde hair, swinging down the ramp from the Boeing 727. “Well, hell,” he murmured. “She really is a ringer for Marilyn Monroe—just like old Roy said.”
The addition of a woman this beautiful into his tranquil domain could only mean trouble. Leif leaned away from the terminal wall. He’d taken a step toward her when she tripped on a rock…make that a pebble. He couldn’t help grinning at her ridiculously out of place pink high-heeled shoes.
She managed to keep her balance, which was a good thing since he was too far away to make a difference. He resumed his relaxed position, eyed her city-slick pink suit, and groaned. It seemed that Miss Cassandra Thompson possessed a sense of style but no common sense, whatsoever.
As he contemplated the woman who would share his space for a week, he shoved up his sunglasses. He’d had his share of women over the years and had yet to meet one who wasn’t a challenge or trouble, in one way or another.
He rolled his shoulders as she drew closer. It’s about damned time. For fifteen minutes he’d paced the tarmac at International Falls, MN, airport like a caged bear as he awaited her arrival, taking up his slouched position since the pacing hadn’t helped. Why waste the energy?
Leif pulled one hand from his pocket reached up and lowered his sunglasses. Suddenly, airport crewmen appeared from nowhere, eager to assist the curvy blonde. He shook his head in disgust when she released the bag to one guy and rewarded him with a brilliant smile. The guy stumbled. Leif rolled his eyes.
She moved toward him again, her stride short and choppy due to the heels, her hips swinging back and forth, beckoning him. He gazed at her generous breasts tucked into the fitted suit jacket and swallowed the growing lump in his throat. She looked sweet as cotton candy, but more appealing. Scowling, he cursed his partiality for sweets.
The late Roy Thompson, Leif’s surrogate father, had provided a vivid description of his long-lost granddaughter. He still couldn’t believe the only person to ever love him had died so suddenly. It saddened Leif to think how Roy h
ad never gotten the chance to see his granddaughter before his passing. With that thought he made a mental note to try to be nice to Miss Thompson, which shouldn’t be difficult. She was something else—and then some.
He moved toward her when a crewman drove a luggage filled cart out from behind the plane. Leif picked up his stride when she detoured in that direction. He stopped behind her just as she rose up on her toes for a suitcase on top of the heap. He brushed her back and reached above her head, grasped the bag’s handle and lowered it to the ground.
She whirled around and he found himself staring down into the prettiest pair of eyes he’d ever seen. The color reminded him of some emerald-colored jade pendant he’d seen in a jewelry shop in St. Paul one time.
“Leif,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand.
He raised one eyebrow. “Cassandra Thompson?”
She gave him a bright, toothy smile. “That’s me.”
Oh, yeah. Marilyn didn’t compare. Anyone within fifty miles of Crane Lake knew he felt more than a passing infatuation for the actress who’d died years before his birth. But the thought of Cassandra topping his affections for his idol unsettled him. No woman, thus far, had measured up to the perfect MM.
He’d always been honest with women, and they always knew what to expect from him—a good time, but no permanency. He’d been let down too many times to allow himself to take another fall.
Fighting his attraction to this beauty wasn’t going to be easy, though. As a matter of fact, it might be downright impossible. Her lips curled into an engaging smile, and he scowled a moment later when he caught himself returning her grin. He didn’t want to like her. She was his nemesis who’d come to invade his territory, thanks to her grandpa’s will.
He took her outstretched hand and felt his pulse pounding as he held it. He couldn’t speak for the lump in his throat. Finally, after swallowing several times, he managed to say, “How did you recognize me?”
“Grandpa had sent a photo album filled with pictures of himself, you, and Gateway several months ago. How did you know it was me?”
“Your grandpa said you resembled Marilyn Monroe.” He recalled the motion of her hips earlier as she’d made her way down the ramp. Her blonde tousled hair, slightly slanted eyes, and full lips—pouting and kissable—further confirmed the resemblance. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’d say he was right on.”
Her laughter was intoxicating. Suddenly her smile slipped. “How do you feel about that?”
Leif’s eyes narrowed on her as she bit her lower lip and watched him from beneath her long black eyelashes. With her pale blonde hair and eyebrows, he knew she must have slicked on a pound of black mascara because there was no doubt she was a true blonde, unlike MM. He could spot a phony one by the color of her roots from a yard away. Then he noticed her cheeks had turned a deep shade of pink, which he knew wasn’t from makeup. What the hell was wrong with her? He found it difficult to believe she was embarrassed by her resemblance to the starlet.
He shrugged. “I’d say you were one lucky lady,” and he thought, and I’m one lucky guy. My dream lady’s come to life. It was his bad luck that she just happened to be claiming his territory.
He released her hand, pulled it back self-consciously, and jammed it inside his jeans pocket again, disgusted with himself, and his attraction to her. Somehow, he managed to find his voice. “Thanks for being on time.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are so sweet to say that when I know you’ve probably been waiting awhile. Sorry we were late, but it was out of my control. According to the pilot we encountered headwinds from out of the north.”
Leif understood since he knew about flying. “I figured as much.” He watched as a delicate hand swept a blonde lock of hair from her forehead.
“I’m looking forward to reaching my grandfather’s place, and relaxing.”
Her words jarred him, reminding him of her reason for coming to Minnesota. He folded his arms and widened his stance. “My place now,” he said, making sure she heard his possessive tone of voice.
“Half, you mean,” she replied and tilted up her chin. “We’re partners now.”
With her green eyes steady on his and her lips set, she had a look that dared him to say more. His body suddenly felt as though it had been draped with a heated blanket. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides and gritted his teeth.
They’d spoken little more than a hundred words to each other, yet each had staked a claim to Gateway to Paradise. He thought what a name for a bait shop, but what the hell. Who was he to argue with old Roy’s naming the place? It had been paradise to the old man.
Not for the first time Leif wondered what old Roy had been thinking, leaving the place to both of them. Leif just knew it wasn’t going to work out. Wryly, he thought of all the times Roy had tried setting him up with a woman, and wondered if that had been his intention once he discovered his granddaughter’s whereabouts, and that she was single. The old man had often told him it wasn’t good to be alone. Leif remembered Roy’s horrified expression when Leif had replied, “When you throw in the towel and get hitched, that’s when I will.”
“I’m ready to leave when you are, but we’ll need to pick up the rest of my luggage,” she said.
“How many more bags do you have?” he asked, knowing she was trying to change the topic, which was a good thing. They’d have time to hash things over after they arrived at Gateway.
“Just two.”
“Is that all?” he said, trying his best to hide his sarcasm.
Frowning, she tugged the hem of her jacket down. “I can’t very well stay for an extended visit without enough clothing, and at least a few comforts from home, can I?”
“Hold on a minute,” he growled. “What’s this about an extended visit? I assumed you were just visiting a week or so, and that you’d sell out your half of Gateway to me before leaving. Now you’re telling me you plan on staying longer?”
She gave him a wide-eyed look. “One shouldn’t assume anything, Mister Flying-Eagle. I have no plans to sell out, at least, not yet. Grandfather told me all about the gift shop. I can’t wait to see it!”
He rubbed his jaw, his hand covering his mouth to conceal his smile. “Mister Eagle is good enough, Miss Thompson, or just Leif. By the way, Gateway to Paradise is mostly just a plain old bait shop.”
“Gifts, too, according to my grandfather’s letters.” She gave him a dimpled smile. “You know, if I like it here, I may end up staying permanently.”
“Permanently?” Leif’s voice croaked, his heart sinking at her words.
She raised her hand to her brow, shielding her eyes from the sun’s rays as she looked to her left. “There’s the rest of my luggage.”
Leif shook his head when she rushed away once more. This was getting ridiculous. She paused beside another stack of luggage. When she reached up for a bag, he started after her again. Who did she think she was, Superwoman? He reached her side and they bent down simultaneously, reaching for the same bag. She got there first and his hand covered hers.
His heart started pounding, ricocheting against the walls of his chest when she smiled. Her face was so close he could see every fine pore of her perfect skin. He also noticed that her eyes seemed to be a darker green at this close range.
“I’ve got it,” she said softly.
He yanked his hand from hers, as if he’d been burned. “I’ll get the others.” He snatched up the remaining two bags and strode away. Half way across the tarmac he heard her calling him.
“Leif! Please slow down, won’t you?”
He stopped and waited for her to catch up. When she reached him he said, “Sorry.” Then he glanced at the bag on rollers that she pulled along behind her. “How about I take that?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine, thanks.”
He faced forward again, checked his watch, and saw that he still had plenty of time to pack his gear and check over the seaplane before taking off on his fishing trip. But he’d hea
rd talk earlier on the radio about the possibility of a storm heading their way. That meant his departure could be delayed, which would be a damned shame. The money he earned for the fly-in fishing trips paid plenty. He hated having to cancel one, but if it stormed he had no choice.
They reached the black Ford Ranger Leif had rented, and he lifted the bags into the truck’s flatbed. Then he moved to the passenger side and opened the door for her.
His temperature skyrocketed when she hiked up her narrow skirt, revealing a tempting view of a shapely thigh. He watched her settle onto the seat then tug her skirt down to her knees.
Leif slammed the door shut, but not before he glimpsed her skirt riding midway up her thighs again. He shook his head, more confident than ever that this woman didn’t fit into his wilderness world, and never would. If she were sensible she’d return home to Chicago a.s.a.p.
“How far is it to Gateway?” she asked as he climbed in beside her.
“About forty miles to the east. Buckle up, Ms. Thompson.” He waited until she pulled the strap across her chest before throwing the truck into gear. Then he checked his rearview mirror and glanced over his shoulder before pulling away from the curb.
She frowned. “That’s more than an hour away, isn’t it?”
“Nope. More like ten to fifteen minutes or so, depending on the wind.”
“Huh. I thought I was in Minnesota. Sounds more like the Chicago Expressway to me. How fast are the speed limits around here, anyway? And what does the wind have to do with anything?”