by Jennie Marts
Shit. If he really told her she couldn’t do the story, she’d have to respect his wishes. And she’d be screwed. She tilted her head, searching his eyes for what was really going on with him. “You’re serious?”
He nodded.
Double shit. He could ruin everything—ruin her chances at getting a better job, getting out of this magazine. This was the story that could propel her career, and the story that her boss wanted. He’d been to Colorado, to Reed’s Run, had loved the fly-fishing shop and thought highly of its reclusive owner. When the idea came up about putting a city girl in the wild, Sully and his shop were the first ones that her boss said he had thought of. He wanted the story, and she had to write it. But she couldn’t write the story if Sully flat out refused.
She’d never had anyone ask her not to do a story on them. What was he afraid of? That she would expose something about him? Or maybe he was actually in hiding—either on the lam from a jewelry heist or maybe he’d escaped from prison. Her writer brain was going into overdrive. She couldn’t really imagine Sully carrying out an elaborate jewelry heist or digging a tunnel out of a jail cell with a soup spoon. But something was going on.
She just needed to figure out what. She needed an angle—an approach that would make him see her article in a more positive light. She needed this article. Needed it to be good, and needed it to be about him.
But how could she convince him that letting her write this article would help him, too? She stared out over the creek, wracking her brain for something to barter with, a way she could help him in exchange for letting her do the article.
A grin tugged at the corners of her lips as an idea came to her. A really terrible, awful idea.
But one that just might work.
“What are you smiling at?” he asked.
“I just had an idea. I was trying to think of how to persuade you to let me do the article and what I could do to help you so that you’d be so indebted to me that you’d have to let me write the piece.”
“I can’t imagine what you could do for me that would make me change my mind.” He ran his hand up Sadie’s spine and ruffled the fur of her neck.
“How about if I pretend to be your girlfriend to get Leanne off your back once and for all?”
His hand stilled on the dog’s neck, and he turned to her, his eyes narrowing again. “I’m listening.”
“I’m just thinking on the fly here.” She paused and winked. “On the fly, get it?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“Seriously, I would be willing to pretend to be your girlfriend for long enough and convincingly enough to get Leanne to believe you were taken and lay off. We could make her believe it while I’m here, then you can keep up the charade after I leave, acting like we’re still together, even after I’m gone.”
She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was softening, warming to the idea.
“It would be nice to get her to quit coming around and to have her leave me alone.” He arched an eyebrow. “And just what would you want in return?”
“I want an all-access pass to the story.”
“What the hell does ‘all-access’ mean?”
His ears had turned red again, and she grinned as she imagined he was thinking that she wanted all access to him and his rod.
“Now whose mind is in the gutter?” She chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing like that. I just mean that you would really teach me about fishing, not only the surface stuff like how to cast, but the real reason you love it and what makes you so passionate about it. And you would give me all the information I would need to make this a great story. Like I mean, an award-winning story.”
“I don’t think I know enough things to give you, and I’m certainly not interesting enough to have anything award-winning to tell you.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“I think you’ll be the one who’s surprised,” he muttered.
He squinted into the afternoon sun. “What if I gave you all the information and you just wrote your piece and left my name and the name of my shop out of it? Fishing is a solitary sport anyway. So you could make your story about the nameless fisherman or the ‘lone fisherman’ and make it applicable to all fishermen. So any man, or woman, could see themselves as the main person in the story. What about that?”
“That might work.” She pondered his suggestion. It wasn’t all that bad of an idea. And at this point she’d say anything to get him to give her the story. “But you have to be open to my questions and really teach me about fishing. And not be grumpy about it.”
His eyes widened. “I’m not grumpy.”
She crossed her arms and stared at him.
“All right. I’m a little grumpy.”
“Well, you’re going to have to work at getting that cross look off your face if you want Leanne to believe that we’re really a couple.”
“What cross look on my face?”
She laughed again. “The one you’re giving me now. The one you wear most of the time.” She leaned forward and ruffled the fur on Sadie’s neck. “The only one you don’t look like you’re irritated with is your dog. So you’re just going to have to imagine that I’m Sadie and try to look at me the way you look at her.”
He chuckled. “Then you’re going to have to jump around wiggling your butt and lick my face every time you see me. Even if we’re only apart for a few minutes.” His ears went red again as he realized what he’d said, but she grinned and then he laughed along with her.
She liked the sound of his laugh—rich and full. She’d only heard it a few times and usually it was directed at the dog, but something in her sought to hear it again. To be the one who made him laugh.
“So when do we instigate Operation Empty Hook?” he asked.
“Empty Hook?”
“Yeah, the hook is empty because I don’t want to catch her.”
She grinned. “Why Sullivan Reed, I believe you just cracked a joke.”
He grinned back, a real grin. “I’m actually a pretty funny guy, once you get to know me.”
His words sent a shiver of anticipation racing down her back. And a swirl of heat filled her belly as she thought about getting to know him better.
That thought also triggered a problem. She didn’t really know this man—didn’t really know much about him at all. “So if we’re going to make Leanne believe that we’re really a couple, we’re going to have to get to know each other. How about we start with the basics. Tell me what you like to do—besides rescue damsels in distress from snake attacks.”
“Hmm. Well, I like to fish.”
She kicked a foot out at him. “Really? Hold on, let me write that one down so I don’t forget.”
He grinned sheepishly. “You’re kind of funny, too.”
“All right. What else? What do you do when you’re not fishing?”
“I like to read. And hike.”
“Okay. Good start. I like to read, too. I read a ton, actually. The hiking not so much. I grew up in Chicago, and it was just me, my little brother, and my mom. We didn’t really do much of anything outdoors. My mom worked two jobs, and I got stuck taking care of my brother, the meals, and our apartment most of the time. Which was okay. I mean my mom worked really hard and provided for us, but that’s why I yearn so much for adventure. I never really got to do anything fun when I was in high school, no dances or parties, couldn’t try out for sports or theater, because I needed to be home to help my mom and take care of my brother. Now I want to go out and see the world, discover new things, and experience the kinds of adventures that I read about other people having.”
She picked up a fallen leaf and twisted it in her hands. Why had she told him all of that? He hadn’t asked for her life story. She needed to steer the conversation back to him and not on the problems of her childhood. “Tell me something else about you. Something Leanne would be surprised that I know.”
“I actually do know how to cook.” He spoke with his face turned toward the cree
k, as if he were sharing a deep dark secret that he was ashamed to admit. “I even enjoy it when I have the time. And I’m pretty good at it. At least Sadie thinks so.”
She looked down at the dog who was chewing apart the end of an old stick. “She does appear to have a pretty discerning palate.”
“She’s practically a connoisseur.”
“Wait. If you can cook, why does Leanne keep bringing you meals? Why don’t you just tell her?”
“I tried. But she either won’t listen or doesn’t believe me.”
“Okay, what’s your favorite gourmet recipe to make?”
He tilted his head in thought. “My best dish is probably beanies and weenies.”
“Beanies and weenies?” She looked at him incredulously. “You mean like baked beans with sliced hot dogs?”
The corner of his lip tipped up in an impish grin. “Told you I was funny.”
Chapter Five
Avery sloshed through the icy water of the river. It had taken her ten minutes to get the waders on. Over her clothes this time. Sully had set her up with a rod and reel and shown her how to tie the fly onto the end of her line.
He’d given her one called a wooly bugger, and it looked like a fat, fuzzy caterpillar with a feather tail on the end of her line.
Now she just had to try to catch a fish.
“This water is freezing,” she said, then swore as her feet slid on the slippery rocks, and she almost dropped her pole—er, rod, or whatever the hell he called the thing.
He reached for her waist, steadying her as he stepped into the water behind her. “You keep splashing around like that, you’re gonna scare all the fish away.”
“Oh sorry, I’ll try not to bother them as I fall into the river.”
“You’re not going to fall,” he said, holding onto her waist. “I’ve got you.”
His hands rested on her hips, offering her support, but also giving her a tingly feeling down her spine. She could almost forget about the iciness of the water as she focused on the warmth spreading through her at being so close to him.
She leaned back against him, getting her balance as she steadied her feet on the rocks and prepared to cast the line. She loved that he was tall, and she liked the solid feel of his chest behind her back. Liked it a little too much.
What was she thinking? She needed to rein it in. There was no point in liking Sully or his solid muscular chest at all. She needed to focus on the article, not the subject of her story. Besides, she was only here for another week. There was nothing to gain by getting involved with a guy that lived so far away.
So why was she letting herself get so worked up over this guy? And she was getting worked up. Her hands were sweating as she gripped the rod and little darts of heat shot up her spine each time his skin brushed against hers.
He spoke softly into her ear. “All right now, remember how I showed you. Ten and two.”
She rocked the rod back and forth, trying to focus on his instructions, slowly letting out the line like he’d shown her. Then she cast the rod back and swung it out toward the water.
“Ow. Holy shit. Don’t move.” He reached to take the rod from her. “Don’t pull on the line. You hooked me in the back of the head.”
Oh no. She didn’t know whether to laugh or apologize. Turning around, she tried not to slip on the rocks. “Let me see. Can I help?”
He turned his head, pointing at the fly stuck in his scalp. “Can you see where the barb went in? I need you to press down on the eye of the hook, then grab the curve of the hook and pull it out.”
She peered at the back of his head. “It just looks like you have a caterpillar in your hair. I don’t know which end is the eye.”
“It’s the part that looks like the caterpillar’s eye. And the curve of the hook is about where the feathered tail starts.” He reached behind his head, searching with his fingers for the fly.
She pushed his hand away. “I can do it. I hooked you with the dang thing. The least I can do is unhook you.” She pushed back the strands of his black hair, searching for the correct parts of the hook. “Okay, I’m going to push down on the caterpillar’s head and pull it out by its butt, right?”
He grimaced. “I probably wouldn’t have phrased it exactly like that. But it works. Whatever it takes to get you to pull the damn hook out of my head.”
“Sorry.” She did as he instructed and pulled the hook free. “Got it.”
He rubbed the back of his head. “The hook didn’t go deep, but the dang thing still smarts a little.” A light smear of blood came away on his fingers, and he swished his hand in the river to wash it clean.
She offered him a wry grin. “Maybe we should have brought the helmet.” Taking a step back, her foot slipped from the rock and her arms pinwheeled as she tried to regain her balance.
Letting out a cry, she plunged backward, butt-first into the freezing water.
The icy water gushed around her and poured into the tops of her waders as she thrashed about, swearing and trying to get back up.
Sully reached for her hand, trying to grab her as she flailed in the water. “Hold still. I can’t get ahold of you.”
Grabbing for his hand, they finally connected, and he hauled her and the rod out of the water. They collapsed onto the bank of the river.
“Holy shit, that’s cold,” she said, shivering as she tried to push the waders down. The wet rubber stuck to her legs. She felt a tickling against her leg and memories of the snake from the day before filled her mind. “Help me get them off. I think something’s in there.”
“What do you mean something’s in there?” Once again, Sully had to peel a pair of waders off her legs, but at least this time she wasn’t in her underwear. He grabbed for her wiggling legs. “Geez, woman, hold still a second.”
He got ahold of her heel and tugged, and the wader let go with a sloppy sucking sound as the suction released. Tipping the wader up, he poured the water onto the bank, along with a tiny minnow that flopped onto the dirt. He grabbed the little fish and held it up, laughing. “Hey look, you caught one. Your first fish—and it’s a whopper. It’s at least a good ounce.”
She glared at him, and he held it out to her.
“You want a selfie with it? Or you can hold it up, and I’ll take your picture. Where’s your phone?”
Oh, shit. Double shit.
She reached into the pocket of her sopping wet pants and withdrew her soaked phone.
“Oh crap,” he said, taking the phone from her and wiping it against his dry T-shirt. “Didn’t you at least put it into a plastic baggy?”
She shook her head. “No, I didn’t think of that, since I wasn’t planning on falling into the river.” Her body shook as a shiver ran through her.
“Here, put this on.” He took off his faded flannel shirt and wrapped it around her shoulders.
She pushed her arms through the soft cotton. The shirt was warm from the sun and smelled like him. She wrapped it around her. “I think I might be done fishing for the day.”
He appeared to be holding back another grin. “Yeah, you don’t want to press your luck after hooking such a big one right out of the gate.”
“I think I liked you better before I knew you were funny.”
As he reached down to give her a hand up, she couldn’t help but notice the solid muscles of his arms as they flexed and tightened, bulging against the hems of his T-shirt sleeves.
He lifted her easily to her feet then spent a few minutes removing his own waders (sans small fish) and collecting their gear from the banks. Whistling for the dog, he led them back toward the shop. She trudged along behind him, the dog racing through the grass.
Following him along the trail, she had time to admire his muscled calves and toned legs. He wore khaki shorts and hiking boots. She hadn’t noticed what a nice butt he had before because it had been covered by the flannel shirt, but she noticed now.
His body was lean but looked strong, his skin tan from spending so much time outdoors. E
ven the back of his neck was tan.
Sullivan Reed was actually a bit of a catch himself.
…
They made it back to the shop, and Sully dropped the gear by the door and walked Avery to her car. Her hair had begun to dry and fell out in little wisps along her neck.
She’d pulled her hair back and wrapped an elastic band around it before putting on the waders. She looked prettier with her hair absently pulled into a loose and messy knot than Leanne did when she had her hair meticulously pulled back into a perfect ponytail.
Not that he noticed.
Yeah, right. He noticed everything about Avery Oliver.
From the way her snug yoga pants fit her rounded bottom to the way her wet shirt clung to the lacy bra, visible through the open flannel shirt. Not that he had to use much imagination to envision what she looked like in that bra. Hell, he’d seen her in it the day before. But it was still damn sexy to see the outlines of lace through the damp fabric of her shirt.
Pretty much everything about Avery was damn sexy.
And now she’d gone and offered to pretend to be his girlfriend in exchange for letting her write that damn article. She must be pretty desperate for that story to go to those lengths. And what the hell had he been thinking, agreeing to such a stupid idea?
Once she started pumping him for information about the article, she wouldn’t need to worry about playing his girlfriend anymore. Not once she had what she needed. It was a dumb idea anyway. She’d probably already forgotten about it.
“So what time do you want to pick me up tonight?”
Her question took him by surprise. Did he miss something? “Pick you up? For what?”
“For Operation Empty Hook. I’m only going to be in town for a week and a half. I figured we should be seen together as much as possible. What’s a good place to go where we’ll be seen by the majority of people in town?”
“There’s the big event tonight, the Get Outdoors deal. It’s at the city park, and the focus is on getting kids to enjoy nature. They have concession stands and a bunch of booths from different outfits that specialize in anything that gets kids outside. The bike shop has a booth and so does the kite store. I’m running a booth for the fishing shop from six to eight, and Matt and I are giving away fifty kid’s fishing poles.”