by Rae, Harloe
Reeve widens his eyes at me. “Babe, why’re you crying?”
Inhaling around the vise clamping my chest is a chore. “I’m just really touched that you thought of me.”
“You’re rarely far from my mind, Audria.” Static heat spreads through me at the honesty in his rich timbre.
I want to nuzzle against that warm sensation. Instead, I wipe at my watery eyes. Damn emotions getting the best of me. “Should I make a beef trifle? It might taste like feet.”
Reeve stares at me. “Uh, sure? But I won’t lie. That sounds… disgusting.”
His blank expression is successful in lightening the mood, getting a laugh from me. “You don’t get the reference?”
He shrugs, looking more humble than shepherd’s pie. “I honestly have no clue what you’re talking about.”
My nose stings when I giggle. “It’s from a Thanksgiving episode of Friends. Where’s Gavin when we need him?”
“I’m all the man you need, babe.” It’s not my imagination when he puffs out his chest.
“Don’t I know it,” I purr in response.
“Is it all right that I stopped by unannounced?”
On the list of stupid questions, that one earns a top-tier spot, not that it requires an announcement. The fear of ruining this moment, and us in general, prickles along the back of my neck. “It is so much more than all right. You have no idea how much. And not just because I’m in a sappy mood.”
Reeve’s thumb traces along my chin. “Your smile tells me plenty. I would’ve trudged through miles of snow to see this.”
That only makes my grin lift and expand. Perhaps that’s his intention. “Thank you for giving me a reason, farmer.”
“How about I make you a plate of grub.” He pauses and raises a brow at me. “I should probably ask if you’re a fan of traditional Thanksgiving fare.”
I nod. “Yes, very much so.”
“Thank Christ because if not, my gesture would mean shit.”
I grip his shirt in my fist, yanking him closer with an unflinching gaze. “It means everything, farmer.”
“That’s all I needed to hear.” He cups my jaw, briefly sealing his mouth over mine for a chaste kiss that resonates far longer than short and sweet.
I exhale against his lips. “Want a repeat?”
“I want to feed you. Then we’ll do a marathon binge of your favorite show and cuddle on the couch.”
A hiccupping sigh sputters from me. Another surge of feels threatens to overtake my semblance of recovery. I choke on a ball of joy mixed with gratitude. “Why are you so perfect?”
And why can’t our situation be less complicated? That’s solely for me to ponder.
“Many would argue the opposite,” he rasps.
I find that challenging to even contemplate. “Well, those fools don’t know what they’re missing.”
He’s quiet for long enough that I’m convinced this topic got too intense for him. Then he strokes a thumb down my cheek, so soft and tender. “Your opinion is all that matters to me.”
And just like that, this ruined holiday is becoming one of the best. Because of this man, I have even more to be thankful for.
One benefit to the raging storm last week—aside from surprising Audria—is the staggering drop in temperature. Consequently, the ice is now thick enough to support weight. The first weekend of December is much later than I prefer setting up shop. I’ve been waiting too damn long to put my tackle to use. To be fair, spending more nights with her instead is no hardship. She almost makes me forget about fishing altogether, but I choose not to obsess over that.
A dull hum bounces off the walls as the generator kicks on. The trailer smells like guts and sewage, but at least we’re comfortable. A glance at Audria shows her throat bobbing with a thick swallow as a fresh wave of stink wafts over. That foul odor is another occupational hazard that fades with exposure. I barely notice anymore, but her reaction reminds me of the unpleasant desensitization process.
Instead of focusing on the stench, I study the interior and picture the layout through fresh eyes. What does she see? It has a rustic cabin vibe, or so the salesman spouted. He told me it would feel like I was vacationing at some fancy lodge for the winter. Little did he know, I just wanted a mobile unit that was easy to transport. That dude upsold my ass and made bank on the commission, not that it’s entirely his fault. I admit to going overboard with the customizations. Casting my line while reclining in a deluxe doublewide beats the windchill that sneaks through those flimsy portable huts. I have nothing else I need to spend my paychecks on. I might as well spoil myself.
What does a single man have without his toys? I’m damn proud of the splurge. This is more of a home for me than the bunkhouse, especially during the winter months. I could haul it to sites during the summer if I had time to camp. It would be great if there were someone to join me. Maybe a certain girl will tag along next year. I mentally pummel myself for that. It’s an unrealistic illusion that I shouldn’t spend an ounce of energy on. But I sure as shit will take advantage while she’s a resident of Bam.
I drop down beside Audria on the cushy sofa. Yep, that’s right. This beast has three couches. “So, what do you think?”
She glances at the checkered curtains over the stainless-steel sink. “I had no idea they made campers this fancy. Growing up, we used a tent like normal people. This is an entirely different realm of recreation, not that I’m shocked in the slightest. I’ve come to realize you don’t cut corners or skimp where most would.”
“This is an icehouse,” I correct.
Her expression is frozen in neutral. “What’s the difference?”
“Campers don’t have the cutouts.” I point to the floor where two are open and ready for us.
“Ah, right. That’s a fairly important factor when weighing your options. Which one has the easiest holes to access?” She holds her palms skyward, tipping them up and down.
Damn, my girl has jokes. My girl? Where in the hell did that crop up from? Certainly not this prime spot on the lake. After Thanksgiving, our relationship—for lack of a better term—shifted. Neither of us has mentioned it. I’ve become accustomed to coasting along without ruffling any feathers. Maybe that makes me a coward, but this chump is living large. I’ll need to do some damage control eventually, just not today. For now, I’ll douse the flames in gasoline and indulge in the burn.
I lean in and trail my nose across the faint freckles on Audria’s cheek. Those brown speckles darken when she blushes, like right now. She seems to like my affection.
“You always find a way to bring new entertainment to an already-enjoyable activity.”
“I’m very proud of the knack.” She dusts imaginary lint from her shoulder.
It’s then I realize she’s still wearing her coat. “Are you warm enough?”
Her face is rosy, but that could be temporary.
She follows my stare to her jacket and shrugs. “It’s super toasty. I could sit out here all day.”
“And we haven’t even started.” I grab a rod and offer her the handle.
Audria accepts the pole with a smile. “It’s so cute and little. What can I possibly catch with such a short stick?”
I hang my head with a chuckle. “You’ve honestly never been fishing?”
“Not even once,” she confirms.
“But you live in the Land of Ten Thousand Lakes.”
“There are plenty of other things to do in the water, farmer.” Her quirked brow reminds me of our tubing escapade. Damn, that was a great day.
I chase off the reverie with a grunt. “Well, fishing is one of the most popular. I’m appalled on your behalf. How many brothers do you have?”
“Three, and they’re all older.”
“And none of them ever took you?”
“We’d go boating, and they’d maybe toss a string or whatever over the side. I didn’t pay much attention. They’ve never gone in the winter, that’s for sure. This is definitely a brand-new exp
erience.”
“I do aim to please.” I top that off with a wink.
She makes the motion of a checkmark. “Done.”
“Not even close.” In all the ways that count. “We need to bait your hook.”
“That sounds painful but kinky. You could probably convince me with further explanation.”
I halt midbreath while considering the creative options. How could we make that a pleasurable thing? Then I curse my arousal for getting me off track—again. I grab a container of night crawlers. After scooting to the edge of my seat, I nod at the closest hole. “All right, babe. Ready to catch a keeper?”
“Pretty sure I have one beside me,” she mumbles under her breath.
I arch a brow. “What’s that?”
She shakes her head and points at the bait. “I already told you that’s not happening.”
“It’s just a worm. Would you prefer a leech?”
A retching sound escapes her. “Absolutely not.”
I laugh at her slightly green complexion. “It’s part of the bragging rights. You can tell all the city girls. Soon you’ll be able to say you’ve done it.”
“That’s not necessary.” Audria pushes the Styrofoam away.
I scoff and try again. “It’s pretty vital to the catching process. You won’t get a nibble without a little something to entice them.”
She bites her bottom lip with a soft purr. A spark detonates in her brown eyes while she cuts a path to my groin.
I hold up a finger, stopping whatever sexy distraction she’s about to spew. “No, I’m not referring to my dick. I’d fuck you all day and get nothing else done, but that’s not healthy.”
“I’m not sure that’s ever been proven. We could try and share our results. I bet the research field would eat that data as a gourmet meal. Think of it as dedication to the cause.” Another throaty provocation vibrates from her throat.
I adjust the aching throb in my jeans. My balls are ready to riot. “Babe, you’re nearly impossible to resist. Trust me. This will hurt me more than you, but I really want us to fish. Together.”
Audria’s gaze gets that glossy sheen that tells me I’ve got her. She sags against the cushions with a long sigh. “I can’t refuse your sweet talking. Bait my hook, and I’ll hold the rod.”
“It really does sound dirty,” I agree.
“See? We should make it a thing.” She leans in and skips her fingers down my chest.
I catch her wrist before she can descend too far. “Right after you catch a fish.”
Her mouth forms a tiny circle. “Oh, more incentives? You know the direct route to my willpower.”
“That’s how it goes when you lo—” I clamp my mouth shut so fast that my teeth clack. Lord almighty, what the fuck was I about to admit? I scrub over my forehead with a chuckle. “When you look at me that way.”
She blinks her lashes in rapid succession, as if trying to weed around my flub to uncover the truth. I’m certain she can find proof on the surface, if my blazing skin is any indication. She doesn’t have to dig far while resting her chin on my shoulder, getting a front-row seat. “Let’s get going then. I’m perfectly content to hang out in your swanky digs and offer moral support. Please be a gentleman and handle the gross stuff for me.”
How do I argue with that? “All right, I’ll let you off the hook for now. But not this guy.” I grab a crawler, piercing the wiggling form until its body is in a compact stack.
Audria gags again. “Poor worm.”
“Fish food,” I correct, dropping the line. It whizzes into the frigid depths with a plop. I ready my own pole, repeating the steps, and prop both handles in their designated holders—more unnecessary shit I don’t need but have come to appreciate. “And now, we wait and relax. Would you like a beverage?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Audria hums when I pass her a porter.
I never would’ve pegged her for a dark-beer drinker with all that fruity shit she likes.
She pops the top and takes a swig. “This is more my style. I’m all for fishing so long as I don’t have to touch anything slimy.”
“You didn’t seem to have an issue earlier.”
She giggles, hiding a wide grin behind her can. “Okay, I’ll rephrase. No slimy business unless it’s attached to your body.”
I stick out my thumb. “Does a fish count if it’s biting my finger?”
Her gasp is sharp enough to puncture glass. “Has that happened?”
“Couple times. Doesn’t hurt too bad.”
She scoffs. “And you want to put me in direct contact with these monsters?”
“You’re being dramatic.” I chuckle.
“Hey.” She stabs me in the chest with a blunt nail. “Only Vannah is allowed to call me out on overreacting.”
“She gave me permission,” I fib.
Audria wrinkles her nose. “I highly doubt that. She takes the privilege very seriously.”
“I’m pretty sure you taught me that sharing is caring.”
“That reference doesn’t apply here.” She laughs. “I’ll give you credit for the association.”
“Thanks, babe.” I extend my legs, crossing them at the ankles. “How cool is it that we were swimming in this water less than six months ago?”
She takes a sip of her drink. “And now we’re trying to catch the fish I pretended most definitely didn’t exist.”
On cue, the tip of her pole bobs.
“Looks like you’ve got something. Reel ’em in, babe.”
“What? How? I’m not prepared for this.” She sets her beer down and grabs the pole.
“Here.” I twist the knob a few turns.
She takes over. “Oh, there’s some tension. Maybe I caught a big one.”
We watch the hole as she draws in the line. A miniscule crappie appears, flailing on the hook with all its might. The little guy is barely a bite.
“So cute,” she coos. “He could fit in a little bowl at my house.”
“We aren’t trying to find you a pet. That’s not how this works.” I laugh. He’s definitely a throwaway, not that I planned for us to take any home. This is all catch and release to get Audria acclimated.
She nods. “You’re right. Getting attached is a bad idea.”
“Very,” I say mostly to remind myself. That couldn’t be more clear.
“Okay, now what?”
“Take it off the hook.” I smooth a hand down its scales and get a strong grip, pointing the mouth at her.
“Me? No way.” She crosses her arms, staging a formal protest. “That looks like a job for you. Go for it.”
“Come on, babe. You can wear gloves and use pliers. It won’t bite you.” Or I’ll never get her to go fishing again.
She squeals and backs herself against the wall. “This is above my pay grade. I demand a raise with extra benefits. It’s going to poop on me. I’ve heard the truth.”
“That’s rare, and you wouldn’t even notice.” I’m fucking with her, of course. This is purely for my entertainment, and I hope she’ll forgive me. I would never expect her to detach the fish, but it’s difficult to forgo joy in the finest form. My abs twinge from laughing so hard.
“Lies,” she squeaks and moves further away.
“Just touch it,” I urge.
She clenches her eyes shut, curling her fingers into fists. “I refuse to believe that’s all you want.”
“I’ll be satisfied, babe.” The inuendo isn’t lost on either of us.
She peels her lids open. “That’s another one of my secret talents.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Audria takes off her mitten and makes the barest of contact next to its fin. “Are you happy, farmer?”
“That depends.” I take the opportunity to use her frequent conditional phrase. With a quick tug, I rid the crappie of his cheek piercing and dump the floppy guy back into the water.
“On?” She nibbles at my bait.
Audria wouldn’t likely accept what I actually w
ant to offer. She would probably take her chances plunging into the freezing water instead. Settling has become the name for this game. “Are you ready for a break in the action?”
She climbs onto my lap in the following second. “Oh, yes. Please bait my hook, farmer.”
“Second graders,” I call across the room. “Can you please meet me on the rug?”
Twenty-one squirming bodies don’t even bother to pause their constant movement. They continue dashing about in disorganized chaos, using tables and chairs as a makeshift obstacle course. Since the playground is off-limits due to extreme windchill, we have to be inventive for recess. I should’ve known letting them eat their gingerbread houses was a bad idea. The room practically smells of gumdrops, icing, and licorice. A glance at the clock makes a rush of air tumble from my lungs. Soon it won’t be my problem.
Sorry, parents. I might’ve doped your kid with extra sugar, but just wait until Valentine’s Day.
My spirits sink a bit at that. I’ll be in another classroom for the next holiday. Will they miss me? I roll my eyes with an internal scolding. These are days for celebration—not moping.
I shift my focus to the rowdy youngsters, who appear seconds away from climbing the walls. My students are typically very well-mannered. This rare display of defiance, short as it might be, makes me smile. The Christmas season is cause for added flair—frosted snacks and glittery crafts included—but wrangling their attention at this point in the afternoon is more complicated than roping a rocking cow, which doesn’t even move.
I clap three times, loud enough for the sound to carry above their mayhem. “Children, we need to meet for circle. The bell will ring soon.”
That gets their attention, and they stampede toward me in a thunderous formation that pounds the floor. Infectious energy and shimmering glee waft off them as they crash onto the carpet in front of my chair.
“It’s been so much fun celebrating with you all. We won’t see each other until next year.” I grin as the hidden meaning registers in their wide eyes. “I hope you all have a wonderful break—”
“Aren’t you gonna open the bag I gave you? My dad said you’d like a new mug,” Kurtis blurts.