After they ate, she cleared away his plate and was running water for the dishes when he joined her there.
He was holding up the dishcloth, positioned before the drying rack, ready to dry anything she might wash.
“I thought you hated doing dishes?” She teased, washing their cutlery.
“Maybe I’m trying to score brownie points with you.”
“For what nefarious purpose?” She challenged, with a slow, sexy smile.
The mischief in his eyes excited her.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out, love.”
The promise of adult undertakings in his voice caused her to shiver with anticipation.
“Why don’t you give me a hint?”
“All I can say is, it involves the removal of that blanket.”
“It’s called a sarong, love,” she mocked him, with his accent on her tongue.
The dishes done, she went alone to her room and changed into loose fitting pants and a light green Windbreaker.
She came back down the stairs and was confused by the look of dismay on Brian’s face.
“What’s wrong, Brian?”
“I was hoping to assist you with the removal of your sarong, that’s all.”
“There’s always later,” she replied, in as husky a tone as she could manage.
As she neared him, she decided that there could be no harm in a kiss. The peck on the lips she had given him while he had prepared supper hardly constituted a kiss...
“There’s mischief in your gorgeous green eyes,” he said, as she placed her hands on his shoulder. “What brought this about?”
“Let’s just say I’m showing you my appreciation, for supper.”
She tilted her mouth up to his and moaned as he hungrily took her lips.
His mouth was fierce and demanding, exploring her with unashamed attention.
She kissed him with everything she held dear, right up until the doorbell rang.
It sounded distant to her but intrusive all the same.
“Coming!” She called. “It must be Tommy.”
It was.
“Good evening, Miranda.” Behind the boy was a battered blue ford truck, with a push mower sticking out the back. “Sorry I’m late. My dad just got back from Winnipegosis.”
“And how’s your grandmother doing?”
“It was a bad fall,” said Tommy, concern marking his freckled young face, “But she didn’t break anything. The last time she fell, she broke her hip. This time, she walked away with just a few bad bruises.”
“Well, that’s good. Would you like to come inside? Brian made some lemonade...”
“No, I’d better not. I’m due at Wayne Morgenson’s at seven o’clock and it’s six fifteen now.”
“Let me get my purse...” She left Brian and Tommy talking at the door and came back with a green twenty dollar bill in her hand, the one printed with the queen who wore Mona Lisa’s smile. “Will twenty be enough?”
“I usually only charge ten,” replied Tommy.
Miranda tucked the green bill in his hand.
“It’s a large yard. I’ll leave the cabin unlocked, in case you need to use the phone or the bathroom. Brian and I are going fishing.”
“Yeah, the fish are really catching right now,” said Tommy. “And it’s only June nineteenth!”
“Thanks for doing the lawn,” said Miranda, as she began to close the front door.
“No problem.” Tommy abruptly left to cut the lawn.
“Are you sure that’s wise, leaving the place unlocked?” Brian asked, as they walked back up the stairs to the kitchen. “You barely know the boy...”
“The people around here are different than what you and I are used to,” she told him, with an amused grin. “Trustworthy, for one thing.”
“People are people the world over,” said Brian, unconvinced. “I, for one, am hiding my gun in the bottom of my duffel bag. Wouldn’t want the lad to shoot himself in the foot.”
“Really, Brian – you think he’d go snooping around?”
“He’s a teenage boy. Teenagers are naturally quite curious.”
“Well after you’re done hiding your gun, come out to the boat house.” She took the fishing bait from the fridge. Tiny minnows peered up at her with dead eyes through the clear plastic top of the container. “Grab the ginger ale and two glasses on your way out, okay? I’ve got our licenses, the bait and the bug spray.”
She watched Brian walk up the stairs and left the cabin for the boat house.
The fishing boat was suspended out of water in the boathouse by a pulley system and manual crank.
She opened the boathouse door, in preparation of leaving.
Sleek and powerful, with a forty horsepower motor, the white fishing boat was the twin of the one her uncle had maintained in Montana.
She lowered the boat to the water and added the dip net, two fishing rods, the tackle box and the things she had brought with her. Donning a life jacket, she stepped in the boat and checked the fuel gauge.
Her uncle had left the boat with a full tank of gas.
She wouldn’t have to fuel up...
She heard Brian approach at about the same time that Tommy fired up the lawn mower. He put on the life jacket that he had used the day before and carefully got into the boat, the ginger ale in his large hands.
“This is a very nice boat,” he said, appreciatively. “Your uncle has some taste.”
“Yes, he certainly does.” Miranda fired up the motor and was pleased to see that it did not stall, even after a long winter of dry docking.
Slowly, she steered the boat out of the boathouse and through the shallow marina.
She carefully avoided the rocks she came upon and soon, they were in the main channel of the Waterhen River, the one that Ben had directed her to follow.
“You look good behind the wheel.” Brian called over the drone of the motor.
“What?” She called back.
He got up and joined her at the helm of the boat. “I said, you look good behind the wheel. Very sexy.”
“Sex,” she laughed. “Is that all you have on your mind?”
“Guilty as charged.” He confessed, placing a hand possessively at the small of her back.
She increased the speed of the boat, since they were in deeper water and steered clear of the floating Javex bottles she saw along the waterway, remembering Ben’s warning that they served as markers for the large rocks in the channel.
Soon, they were gliding smoothly past the Clarions’ long white farm house and yard, seen from a distance, as they were in the middle of one of the wider parts of the river.
The wall of reeds marking Balkan’s Hole loomed ahead in the distance.
Miranda could see that a red boat was already there, with a single occupant wearing a bright orange life jacket.
She slowed as they approached the hole, slowed even more as the boat neared. There was a reef to her right side and deeper water beneath them as she pulled up next to the boat.
“We’re looking for Balkan’s Hole,” she called out to the lone man.
She recognized him from the potluck supper but his name escaped her.
“You’ve found it.” The man replied cheerily. “Drop your anchor up there a few yards and let the current pull you back here. It’s the perfect spot.”
Miranda did as the old man told her, heading the boat further upstream.
Brian grabbed the anchor and dropped it with a splash when the old man called: “Right there, sonny!”
The anchor caught and they drifted back a few yards, until they were parallel with the man’s smaller boat.
“Catch any fish today, sir?” Brian called, readying his fishing rod.
“I’m almost at my limit.” The man lifted his stringer from the water, revealing a number of dangling fish. “Five pickerel on my stringer so far. Threw two of the smaller ones back, so seven in total, an’ I’ve only been out here two hours.”
“I’m sorry,
I don’t remember your name,” began Miranda, “But we met at the potluck?”
“Alex Chamberlain, m’girl,” said Alex, reeling in his fishing line. “Will you look at that?” He laughed, indicating the large green weed on his fishing line. “I got me a whole salad this time.”
Miranda opened the bait and skewered one of the short, plump silver minnows on her barbless hook. “Your wife doesn’t care for fishing much?”
“Nah, Milly’s busy making cinnamon buns. The grandkids area coming over tomorrow.” He paused to cast his line back out into the water. “Gotta feed them something. Fish for supper, at this rate.”
He glanced at Brian, who was struggling to unravel his lead weight from his line. “If’n you don’t mind me asking, sonny, who’re you?”
“I’m Brian, Miranda’s brother.”
“Australian, huh?”
“Good ear.” Brian grinned at the older man.
Alex grinned back. “Funny thing is, Russ never mentioned having a nephew. Spoke a whole lot about his daughter and Miranda here but...” He paused. “Why didn’t he bring you hunting with him?”
Brian finally untangled his line. “I was, er, overseas a lot.”
“Ah, I see.” Alex tugged on his line, teasing the fish below. “Milly went to Australia, when she was in University. A work exchange program. Said Australia was nice but that New Zealand was far prettier. Any truth to that?”
“Depends on what part of home she saw.” Brian accepted a minnow from Miranda and baited his hook. “But she’s right, I think New Zealand’s a bit more lush, more green and pretty than sandy ol’ Australia. She’s more or less a rock.”
Miranda cast her rod easily, the hook and sinker landing far downstream of the boats. She reeled in a few feet and waited for the fish to react.
Brian stood and tried casting, nearly catching Miranda with his hook.
The sinker end of the line landed in the floor of the boat.
Alex chuckled. Brian blushed.
It was the first time Miranda had ever seen him blush...
And it wasn’t just a little bit of color to his cheeks.
From his collar bone to the tips of his ears and the top of his hairline, he was turning scarlet.
Miranda couldn’t stifle her giggle.
“Like I said,” Brian admitted sheepishly, “I haven’t fished since I was a lad.”
“I can see that.” Miranda laughed, securing her rod to get up and help him. “Here.” She took the rod from him and instructed him on the proper way to cast. “Like this...”
The line sailed gracefully out toward the spot where hers rested and splashed into the water.
“Thanks,” said Brian, taking the rod from her.
His ears were still as red with embarrassment as his cheeks.
She smiled endearingly at him. “You’re welcome.”
A few minutes later, Miranda felt a few tugs on her line and jostled it but no fish was to be had – they had nibbled away her bait though, she discovered upon reeling in.
It was upon rebaiting her hook that she noticed Brian’s rod bowing over the edge of the boat.
“Uh, Brian, I think you have a fish.”
“Naw, that’s just a nibble.” He told her, holding the rod firmly in his hands.
The rod dipped and moved.
“That looks like a fish to me, son,” said Alex. “Reel it in.”
Brian reeled in and to his surprise, a fish was indeed caught on the end of his line.
A small fish but a fish just the same.
“Aw, that’s just a baby,” said Alex, disapprovingly. “Walleye, also known as a pickerel. Great for eating, just not when they’re that size... Around here, we catch and release ones of that size. Barely a pound...”
Brian reeled the fish in – it bounced and struggled against his persuasion but was affixed to the end of his line.
Once it quit struggling, Miranda pulled Brian’s line into the boat and prepared to free the fish.
Miranda sought the glove and needle nose pliers from the tackle box and removed the hook from the fish’s mouth.
Gently as she could with the fish squirming in her hand, she tossed it back over the side, where it swam quickly away.
She smiled up at Brian. “Like I said, caveman: come zombie apocalypse, you’re gonna want me on your team.”
“I can always swing a club, love.” He grinned at her. “Get me a moose to go with your fish.”
“You’ll get a bigger one next time, m’boy,” said Alex. “Don’t you worry - lots of fish in this ol’ hole.”
Miranda was the next to catch a fish, while Brian was pouring himself a glass of ginger ale.
Hers was far larger than his had been and she had a joy of a time trying to get it into the boat.
Brian stood by with the dip net, ready to catch the fish.
“Looks like a monster, eh?” Alex commented, approval in his voice.
Once it was in the air, Miranda determined that it was a pickerel, the same species that Alex had on his stringer and little over a foot long.
“Feels like about three pounds,” she said gleefully as they got the fish into the boat. She was upon it at once with the stringer and the pliers. “This one has supper written all over him.”
Brian was incredulous.
He didn’t expect Miranda to be the type for eating anything she caught in the wild. He had considered her a spoiled little rich girl, caught up in a life of manicures and caviar, not canoeing and pickerel.
As much private information as he knew about her, she surprised him every time he turned around.
It delighted him to know that there were so many sides to her...
“Nice fish, Miranda.”
“Thanks.” She winked at Brian as she put the secured fish over the side of the boat. “He sure put up a fight.”
They fished for the rest of the evening, keeping only three of the dozen fish they caught.
Miranda filleted the fish on the dock, while Brian watched, awestruck.
She sure was some breed of woman.
Full of surprises.
And he had thought he’d known her so well...
By ten o’clock, back in the cabin, her sunburn had begun to ache.
Brian touched her shoulder gingerly.
Even through her Windbreaker, he could feel the heat emanating from the sunburn.
“Poor love,” he purred, as she removed the light jacket. “You really should let me put some aloe vera gel on that for you.”
“Would you?” She asked softly, delighting in the possibility of his hands upon her body.
“Gladly,” he replied, brushing his fingertips over her red skin. “Since I probably won’t be able to make wild, passionate love to you until well after this burn begins to fade.”
Indeed, she was in poor position to do anything about her arousal. Her sunburn ached so badly.
She returned from the bathroom with the aloe and a smile.
She was wearing the sarong and nothing else besides her grin.
“I believe you said something about removing my sarong?”
“How naughty you are, teasing me when I can’t possibly have you...” He got up from the arm chair and kissed her roughly, showing her his frustration. All the kiss did was excite them both... “Damn that hot summer sun!”
Gently, Brian untied the knot of her sarong.
With slow sensuality, he unwrapped the sarong from her long, superb body and indrew a great swallow of air.
“Was that a lustful gasp I heard?” She asked, coyly.
“No,” he replied honestly.
His own skin prickled empathetically as he viewed the stark contrast between her burned and unburned skin. He felt so badly for her.
She was going to suffer from the burn.
It was quite bad.
Triangles of white at her breasts and pubic mound was all that was left of her ivory skin.
“It isn’t all that bad, is it?” She asked, pained.
“Oh but it is.” He replied though in taking the aloe gel from her, was unsure where to begin.
Consciously struggling with sensual thoughts, he squirted some of the cool gel into his hands and spread it over her reddened shoulders.
Hearing her sharp intake of breath, he asked, “Did I hurt you?”
Quite the opposite had occurred.
Initially shocking, his cooling touch was heavenly, the gel relieving some of the burning sensation.
“That’s wonderful, Brian. Don’t stop.”
As carefully and gently as he was able he worked the gel across her hot flesh, mindful of the burn, hoping that he was not causing her any discomfort, for that was unthinkable.
Hurting her was the last thing he ever wanted to do.
He finished smoothing the gel into her back.
It was time now to consider her front...
The tantalizing scent of her perfume brought him back to thoughts full of adult notions. He silently groaned as he felt the rush of blood to his loins, at the sight of her full, rounded breasts and the enticing V of her long, sexy legs.
“See something you like?” She purred, licking her luscious lips.
Hiding his trembling hands, Brian cursed his lack of control.
What was it about her that weakened him so, reduced him to quivering man flesh, ready and willing to do her bidding?
She had his heart in the palm of his hand, whether she knew it or not, he belonged now to her.
All other women pale in comparison, he thought and in looking back at her sunburned flesh, realized how true that was.
“Yes,” he replied, fully aware of his weakness. “This really is torture, you know, touching you but not having you.”
“If it makes you uncomfortable, I can do the rest myself,” she offered, aware of his arousal.
“No, I can finish.” He stammered, squeezing more of the aloe into his palms. “I’ll finish your legs first...”
When at long last the torture was over, Miranda rewarded Brian with a long, passionate kiss.
He wasn’t sure whether to consider it further torture or a test of his self control, what with her standing so lovely and naked before him.
Only her sunburn kept him from ravaging her sweet, sexy body.
“Oh, Miranda, the things you do to me...”
“You know, Brian, there are…things I can do for you that don’t necessarily constitute intercourse.” She crooned, kissing his neck, her hands on that part of him that was most sensitive and ever alert to her nudity.
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