Roots and Wings (City Limits #1)

by M. Mabie

  Was she planning on pushing me out of the boat? Or was that just a warning…

  “Permission to come aboard?”

  She rolled her eyes and said, “Get on here.” I didn’t miss the way she looked at my lips before she threw her shades on, like she was seeing me in a new light and didn’t know how to react.

  Hannah took the bags, shaking her head at me. I thought that was what you were supposed to say before you got on someone’s boat.

  The small vessel had two seats that were more like bar stools, tall and swiveling, and the boat was shallow and wide. There was a bigger motor in the back and a smaller one lying on the floorboard at the front.

  “Why does your boat have two motors?” I asked as she untied the ropes tethering us to the dock.

  “Ah, good question, Doctor. The one in the back is an outboard; it’s the main motor. The one up there lets me putter around in shallower water. It’s quieter when I’m fishing and it allows me to move around while I’m doing my thing.”

  She took this seriously. Two motors. Shit.

  If I was going to learn how to fish, I was glad to be learning from a professional.

  “Interesting.”

  “Not been on many fishing boats, huh?” She lowered the motor in the back and turned the key, causing it to roar to life.

  “No. Not that many. I’ve been on bigger fishing boats in Cleveland. They’ll take you out to fish on the lake, but they’re nothing like this. I think this boat is quieter than your truck,” I teased.

  “I don’t care how loud my truck is, but I care a lot about how quiet my boat is.”

  She pushed forward on the throttle and we slowly moved away from the dock by her cabin. The morning sun was strong on the water and I was glad for both my hat and glasses.

  She didn’t drive fast, taking her time to show me all of her favorite haunts. She called them her “honey holes” which I thought was cute.

  What wasn’t cute was the look she gave me when she threatened my life and my balls if I ever shared the top-secret information.

  Okay, that was pretty adorable, too.

  She pulled into a narrow piece of water off the main channel and it was peaceful and calm, the current barely noticeable. Green buds sprouted on the trees, but not quite big enough yet to shade the water from the sun. Their branches arched over us like a tunnel made of wooden lace.

  “It’s beautiful back here.”

  “I know. I love this spot. It’s my favorite honey hole. It’s great bass fishing.”

  I wasn’t sure what that meant, other than that’s what she planned on catching, but I admired her zest for all of it. It lit her up.

  “How do you know where to go to catch different kinds of fish?”

  She cut the engine and turned in her seat, swinging her feet into the middle of the boat. She licked her lips and her neck stretched out towards me just enough. Again, it was obvious she wanted to kiss me, but she held back. So I did, too.

  I wanted her to give in to it. To take what she wanted.

  She blew out a quick breath, like she was shaking off the urge to touch me, and spoke.

  “I’d like to say experience, but my dad taught me most of it. I’ve been fishing this river, and the lake outside of town, all my life. Some of it is trial and error, and some of it is just fact.”

  “Don’t you just bait a line and throw it out?”

  “Yes, but there’s more to it than that. Remember what I was talking about last night on our road trip?”

  I remembered she was happily chirping along about fishing, but most of it was Greek to me. Scratch that, I knew some Greek. It was more like Japanese.

  “Yeah, but to tell you the truth, I didn’t get most of it.”

  She smiled. “You’ll catch on.”

  She slid her poles out from the side of the boat she sat on and propped the ends up on her lap. “I’m going to bass fish. Do you want to try?”

  “Yeah. What’s first?”

  Her eyes were hidden behind her shades, and I so wished I could see them. She smiled and laughed at me quite a bit, but her eyes always let me know how I was really doing.

  She handed me one of the poles; immediately, I noticed they were different. The one she gave me had string coming out of a compartment, where hers was open, the string exposed.

  “Is this some sort of beginner’s pole?” I accused, only half joking.

  “No. It’s just easier if you’re not used to an open cast. Don’t feel bad though, it took me years to get my cast to come out right using them. I still make a huge mess from time to time.”

  She opened the tackle box, and moved the top shelf over to get something from the bottom.

  “I like fishing with these when I’m back here. They look like bees.” She held the lure thing in her hand, letting me get a good look. “I don’t know if bass eat bees for real or not, but the ones back here like these little fuckers.”

  She handed one to me. It was a little heavier than it looked and had a triple hook on it.

  “So I get three hooks? What is that—backup?”

  She chuckled and shook her head.

  “No. Those are treble hooks. I use them too. Relax, you’ll catch something, I promise. Now, watch how I tie this and see if you can do it.” She paused and lifted her glasses to the bill of her hat. “And that wasn’t a cheap shot about you not being able to do it. My dad has a hard time and he’s been fishing twice as long as I have. You just have big hands and they’re small lures.”

  Here was where I could shine, if I watched carefully enough. I was a dentist, and, therefore, used to small, fine details.

  I studied her fingers and watched her loop the line in and out, then pull it tight with her teeth, which made me cringe. She snipped the extra line off and proudly said, “Voilà.”

  “Okay. I’ve got this.” Meticulously, I repeated what she’d done and much faster, since I wasn’t demonstrating like she’d been.

  In seconds I had it tied, and then I wrapped the line around my finger to give me a better grip for pulling it tight. I wasn’t about to bite it. No, thank you.

  She clipped the excess off for me.

  I looked up into her eyes and they looked at me in wonder. I’d impressed her. On her boat. Point for Dr. Kissylips.

  “Nice job. Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” She was skeptical now and squinted at me like she might be getting hustled.

  “I’m sure.”

  She was wearing hardly any makeup, but she was still just as pretty. Her bare skin revealed the freckles she had on her cheeks and nose.

  I noticed I didn’t have a preference when it came to her. Only that I always adored what she looked like.

  “Yeah. Just like that. Cast and then sort of jerk it as you reel it in slowly. You got it.”

  He was a natural. Why had I expected anything less? He followed instruction and didn’t get the least bit shitty with me when I corrected him.

  “So where are they then?” he asked as he threw his line out once more. This was a hopping little spot and I trusted that within minutes one of us would get a bite.

  “Just be patient.”

  I threw mine out in front of the boat. Having put the trolling motor in the water, my foot rested on the pedal, happy where we were for the moment. The nice thing about this Chute was, it went on for a good little bit and it would be late morning by the time we made it to the end of the island where it divided from the shore.

  He fell into a nice rhythm with his pole, and from where I stood I was only able to give my line half the attention I normally would.

  The way his shirt fit tight across his shoulders did something to me. Or maybe it was the way he shook his ass as he reeled in his line.

  He looked so good in my boat. I’d wanted to kiss him on more than one occasion, his mouth was hard to keep my eyes off of, but I wasn’t sure how any of it worked. I figured it was best to let him lead.

  Besides, I could watch him fish all day. Every day.
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br />   “Whoa. Whoa. I felt something,” he stammered.

  I dropped my rod and went to stand on his open side, away from his pole.

  “Got a nibble, huh? Okay. When you feel that, don’t reel as much. Just give it a few light twitchy pulls. Give him a chance to hit your lure.”

  He looked at me and nodded quickly, concentrating on doing it just right. His line reached the boat and he gave it a nice clean toss right under a limb about thirty feet out.

  It was such pretty cast.

  Then, he worked his magic. Pulling at the right times. Reeling when he should. Like magic, a fish hit his line.

  “There’s a second where you don’t want to move. Then yank and set your hook. Crank like hell back to the boat,” I whispered, not wanting him to lose his fish—our first catch of the day.

  His pole bowed under the weight of the fish.

  “I got it. I think I’ve got it.”

  I grabbed the net and crouched down to pull the fish out for him.

  It was a nice one too. A keeper. Just like him, I thought to myself as I looked up at him. He was in the zone and it was sexy as anything I’d ever seen.

  I grabbed the bass by the mouth, careful not to catch my thumb on the hook.

  “Look at you. Real nice catch. We’re keeping this bad boy.”

  I went to hand him the fish so I could get a bucket to fill the well, and the pliers. Those hooks weren’t anything to mess with, in my experience. There’s no amount of fishing you can do to keep one of those from ruining a perfectly good day. They’re bastards no matter who you are.

  “Okay. Just hold him like I am. Put your thumb in his mouth. It’s rough, but he can’t hurt you. Watch that hook.”

  “I’m used to getting bitten. I’m a dentist.”

  I chuckled, he was probably telling the truth.

  He took it, again following my instruction without any hesitation.

  I filled the well and found the tool.

  “Okay, do you want me to do this or do you want to try?”

  “I want to try,” he answered adamantly and lifted his shades to the bill of his hat. I prayed he’d leave them there. I’d missed seeing his eyes.

  I had to respect a man who didn’t want a woman taking his fish off the hook.

  Impressed, I handed him the tool and he skillfully unsnagged it from the lip of the fish, much gentler than I’d been known to do, by the way.

  “Throw number one in there,” I told him. “See I told you you’d catch something.”

  I liked that he took to it so well, and even though I hadn’t been going easy on him by not catching anything first, really I’d just been distracted.

  He’d caught one and all bets were off. I was about to get my fish on.

  “So you think you’ll catch any or you gonna let me have all the fun,” he challenged, a cocky grin spread across his stubble-covered face.

  “You sit back and watch a pro,” I countered.

  I loved the competition. There was no way to know for sure if he was having fun, but by eleven thirty in the morning we’d each caught about nine, and we’d already cracked open our first beers while we took a little break.

  “You’re pretty good, Vaughn. I’m wondering if it was a mistake to show you all my sweet spots. You’ll be back here without me, cleaning them out.”

  “Your sweet spots? I think there are a few more I don’t know about yet.” He winked and I almost choked on my beer.

  “Are you hungry?” I asked before I attacked him on my boat.

  “A little, but I’m not really that ready to head back yet. I think we should try to fill that tub up.”

  Goddamn, how I loved the sound of that.

  “We don’t have to go back,” I assured him. “I packed us a couple sandwiches.”

  “You did?”

  “Oh, yeah. I had the deli make us some turkey subs and got a thing of pasta salad.”

  I found the small cooler I’d set down in the large tote bag to keep it out of the sun. Then realized I’d forgotten one important thing, after all of that planning.

  “But you know what? I don’t think I brought any forks. Shit.”

  Our hands were dirty from fishing. The sandwiches wouldn’t be any trouble; they were wrapped in paper, but the pasta salad would be nearly impossible.

  “Wait, I have toothpicks,” I suggested.

  “We’ll make it work.”

  So in the middle of the Chute, with a cooler for a table, we ate our sandwiches and used toothpicks to stab the creamy shells. Laughing and talking about the one that he claimed got away, just like a real fisherman.

  It was the best lunch of my life.

  The day grew hot on the water, and soon we were just looking for the shady spots, puttering around along the bank on the way back to the cabin.

  “So you think you’re ready to clean all of these fish?” It was the worst part, but it had to be done. If you caught fish, and you wanted to eat them, there was no way around it. Guts and all.

  I was used to it, and I’d found a way that was fast, but I still didn’t love that part.

  “It has to be done, right? I’ll help, maybe it’ll go faster with two of us.”

  Other than my dad, and on occasion Dean, I’d never had someone help me clean my catch. Never in a million years did I ever imagine I’d find, not just a sexy, well educated, funny man, but one who wanted to help me clean fish—that we’d caught together, no less.

  If I wasn’t careful, I was going to get in way over my head with him. Honestly, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.

  After we tied the boat up and cleaned up our mess, we hauled the cooler and bags back to the cabin. Then we went back and pulled out the well, and, each carrying a side, we hauled it over to my fish cleaning station.

  I uncoiled the hose I had under the shack and snuck it through the contraption I’d made to hold it. Quickly, I ran upstairs to get my fillet knives and said a prayer that this went just as smoothly as … well, everything had gone all day.

  I showed him my trick to cutting the fillets and he quickly caught on. Maybe it was because he was a doctor, of sorts, and therefore had a great attention to detail, or maybe he was just a great learner, but after he did the first few, he was flying through them at about the same speed I was.

  After about an hour of some really gross stuff, we were finished and glad for it.

  “Thanks for helping. It sucks, but it’s worth it. They’ll taste good, I promise.”

  I bagged up the last of the fish for the freezer, keeping some aside for us for dinner later that evening.

  “It wasn’t that bad. I’ve been inside some really gross mouths. I have a strong stomach. It was pretty nasty though.”

  I laughed at the face he was pulling. Even covered in sweat and fish guts, he was oh, so fine.

  “So the cabin has a shower, but the hot water tank is kinda small.” I knew I needed a shower, but I wasn’t sure if he’d want to take one here or if he’d go home and clean up.

  “That sounds like an invitation.”

  God. Had it?

  My insides dropped as he stepped closer, his voice taking that tone again. The one I didn’t yet know how to react to. The one that was making me doublethink everything I’d ever thought about relationships. The one that could easily talk me into a shower, cold water be damned.

  We were both disgusting, hands only cleaned by the running water out of the hose.

  I leaned against the makeshift sink under my cabin, and in front of me he stepped closer and closer.

  Excited nerves controlled my words and I began to ramble, something I was sure he’d be sick of sooner than later. How was I supposed to be in a mature relationship? I had zero experience. I was no smoother than a thirteen-year-old. It wouldn’t take him long to get sick of trying to have an adult situation with someone so inexperienced in those ways.

  “No. I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, if you want to share a shower, I’m game. I’d love to see you naked.
Wait, did I just … ignore that part. I didn’t know if you brought out anything clean to wear or not. I figured we could clean up and maybe have another fire or something.”

  If he was annoyed with my awkward rambling in those moments, it wasn’t showing. He was smiling and nodding, looking amused and full of life.

  I was a jackass.

  “I wish I’d brought a change, but I didn’t. How about you take a shower and I’ll run home, but there’s one thing that’s really been bothering me all day.”

  Here it comes.

  I’d been waiting for the shoe to drop and now was the time. I was too much of a tomboy. He was looking for someone more sophisticated. I was too crude, and he wanted someone who could hold a worldly conversation, or at least one that didn’t have anything to do with Wynne, or construction, or guts for that matter.

  I was covered in fish slime.

  I’d pulled my own boat in the water without waiting for him.

  I’d been too bossy when we were fishing and I’d emasculated him.

  Just like Sunny had told me I did to the kid who took me to prom. I’d picked him up because it was raining really hard and I had better tires. I didn’t want to wreck on our way to the dance. And I certainly didn’t want to change a tire in the only dress I’d ever owned that had a zip up the side.

  Men wanted someone delicate they could take care of and protect. They wanted someone who made them feel powerful and needed.

  And I’d never be a woman who couldn’t take care of herself. A girl who couldn’t survive if left alone.

  I’d been left alone before.

  My mom left both of us. I’d watched my dad struggle with trying to teach me things a mother would have. From baking when he’d rather have been hunting. Or making Christmas decorations when the game was on.

  He’d fallen in love with a woman who couldn’t sit still. A woman who would abandon her child and never come back. I knew he struggled with it. I knew it broke him. He was lonely, and often he’d apologize that it was him I was doing things with when it should have been her.

  That’s what stuck in my head. I never wanted to feel like I was left lost. Wandering around, needing someone else to save me.