by Sharon Sala
“You bathe in the lake? What about snakes and fish and stuff?”
“You worry too much,” he said.
Jessica flopped down on the bed and then winced as she bit her tongue upon the impact.
“Ow,” she muttered, and felt in her mouth to make sure everything was still properly attached.
Stone looked up from digging through his tackle box. “What happened?”
“You tell me,” she said, giving up on her injured tongue to poke at the bed’s lack of springs. “I was expecting to bounce, not ricochet.”
He grinned. “Yeah, it is a little hard, but you know what they say, a firm bed is good for your back.”
She gave the cabin’s interior a slow, thoughtful look. “I think I have been snookered.”
His grin widened. “Well don’t look at me. I never snookered a woman in my life. I have, however, sweet-talked a few.”
She stifled a smile and threw a bag of rubber worms at his head. When Stone was in one of these teasing moods, he was impossible.
“We came to fish, so let’s fish,” she said.
“Don’t you want to unpack?”
She eyed the accommodations once more with undisguised disdain, and then leaned over and unzipped her bag.
“There, I’m unpacked. Now, are you going to put up or shut up?”
He handed her two tackle boxes, and then walked out with the fishing rods, assuming she would follow.
She did, stumbling across tree roots and dodging bramble bushes on their way to the water’s edge. And as she ducked to go under a particularly low limb, it suddenly occurred to her that something was way off-key.
“Hey, you! Why am I carrying the heavy stuff and you’re just carrying the poles?”
Stone grinned, but only because he knew she couldn’t see his face. Once, a few months after he and Naomi had been married, he’d tried to take her fishing. Jessie had already made it farther than Naomi had. His ex had taken one look at the cabin and the accommodations and cried. He’d taken her back to town and given up the idea as a lost cause.
Underbrush crackled beneath their feet as they continued through the woods on their way to the lakeshore, and Stone sighed. He could hear Jessie muttering beneath her breath, but to her credit, she wasn’t yelling. At least not yet.
He knew he was trying her in more ways than one, but the way he had it figured, if she was willing to put up with him during this, there was the possibility that she could handle just about anything.
“Hey!”
At the sound of Jessie’s shout, Stone paused and then turned.
“What’s up?” he asked, trying to ignore the twig stuck in her hair and the spiderweb plastered to her leg.
“I asked you a question and never did get my answer.”
“Sorry,” Stone said. “I guess I was enjoying all this natural beauty and didn’t hear you. What was it you said, honey?”
Jessica thought about glaring. He had some nerve! Piling her down with all this stuff and then calling her “honey.”
“I asked you why I’m carrying all the heavy stuff and you only have a couple of fishing poles?”
“Oh,” he said, hiding a grin. “Why, it’s because you’re the apprentice and I’m the master. Apprentices carry. Masters mast.”
At that, he turned and headed for the lake. Not because he was in that much of a hurry to start fishing, but because he was afraid if he stood there much longer, she was going to take a swing at him with the stuff in her hands.
“That is so much bull,” Jessica muttered, but she continued to follow him right up to the lake’s edge.
“Here you go,” he said, handing her a rod and taking one of the tackle boxes from her.
“Here I go, what?” she asked.
“That’s your rod. That’s your tackle box. Pick a lure out of the box and put it on the end of the line. Cast it into the water. Reel slowly. If something tugs on the line, give it a jerk to set the hook and then reel in your fish.”
“I can do that,” Jessica said, and wiped her hands on the legs of her jeans, then opened the lid to the tackle box.
Inside were lures in all shapes and sizes, as well as a colorful assortment of plastic worms. She dropped to her knees and began poking around, actually taking pleasure in sorting through Stone’s treasures.
“Don’t take all day about it,” he said as he made his first cast. The lure and line arched perfectly as the reel spun out line. The spinner bait he’d chosen dropped in the water with a near-splashless plop.
Jessica watched, mesmerized by the way he stood, the way he moved, the way he held his head cocked to one side, as he reeled the lure toward shore.
When Stone glanced her way, she was picking through lures with studied intent. He smiled. At that moment, he knew he’d never loved her more.
“Need some help, honey?”
“No, I’ve got it,” she said, and rocked back on her heels to attach the lure to her line.
“Don’t get too close to the trees, and easy on the cast or you’ll get backlash,” he warned.
She glanced over her shoulder, then down at the reel, and nodded.
Here goes nothing.
The tip of the rod moved in a beautiful, symmetrical arc. A perfect one-hundred-and-eighty-degree cast—that slipped out of her hands. She watched in openmouthed awe as the rod landed with a splash about ten feet away from the shore and started to sink.
“Oh, turkey feathers.”
Stunned by what she’d done, Stone gawked for no less than a second before wading in to retrieve his second-best rod. Luckily, the water was only waist high, and Stone’s shirt was still mostly dry as he started back to shore. His color was a bit high, but Jessica attributed that to haste rather than distress.
“Sorry,” she said as he handed her the pole. “I don’t know what happened.”
He managed a grin. “That’s okay, honey. It happens to everyone…once.”
She got the message, then dropped down to change the lure.
His shoes squished and his undershorts were in a wad, but it wasn’t the first time he’d fished wet, and it wouldn’t be the last. He picked up his own rod, then glanced back at Jessie.
“What are you doing now?” he asked.
“Changing the lure. That one was bad luck.”
“Oh.” He nodded as he made another cast, a little bit worried that what she’d said almost made sense.
This time, Jessica was determined to do it right. She tightened her grip on the handle until her knuckles turned white. By George, if the rod went in the lake this time, she was going with it.
Stone eyed her stance. The wind was blowing just enough to tousle that crazy haircut all over her head, giving her a childlike appearance. But there was nothing childish about Jessie. She was all woman, everywhere it mattered.
“Easy does it,” he urged as she drew back again. And he knew it was wrong before the arc passed her nose. It looked more like a chop than a cast.
“Ouch!” she squealed, and looked down in dismay at the blue-feathered spinner she’d hooked in her jeans.
Stone dropped his rod and knelt at her feet, inspecting the lure caught near the hem of her jeans.
“Ooh, dang, honey. I’ll bet that hurts. Here, let me see. Naw, you got lucky. It’s not stuck in you, just your pants.”
“Yeah, I’m lucky,” Jessica muttered, and tried not to stagger as Stone hiked her foot on his knee to cut out the hook.
Now she had a hole in her jeans. Fishing was more expensive than she had first imagined. He handed the extracted hook to her, and she dropped it back in the box.
This time, Stone didn’t have to ask. “Gonna change the lure again, are you?”
She nodded. There had to be one in here that could do things right.
A few minutes later, she was ready again, and this time, the glitter of the silver-and-white lure dangling from the end of the line made her smile. She stood and reeled it up toward the tip of the rod.
“Ready to
try it again, are you?” Stone asked.
“If at first you don’t succeed, and all that stuff,” Jessica said.
“Good girl. Give it all you’ve got.” But just to make sure he didn’t become the next casualty, Stone took a couple of steps to the side and winked at her.
Jessica beamed and drew back the rod like a batter at the plate.
“No, honey, don’t—”
Stone’s warning was too late. The line whirred, running out and then recoiling inside the reel. Next to losing the big one, it was a fisherman’s worst fear.
Jessica looked down, wondering why the line hadn’t flown out upon the water like Stone’s always did. When she saw the tangle of line hanging out of the reel, she frowned.
“Oooh. Backwash.”
“Backlash. It’s called backlash.”
She glanced up. He had a strange, fixed expression on his face. “Yeah, right,” she said, then dropped down on the ground and started picking at the knots with an overdone sigh.
Stone’s nerves were as shredded as the line on her reel. The wet socks in his shoes were causing blisters, and the leather belt he was wearing was starting to draw, drying like green rawhide. He looked back at the mirror-perfect surface of the lake and winced when a fish actually flopped in the water beyond. He sighed, looking down at Jessie and her woebegone face.
“Here, honey,” he said gently, handing her his pole. “I’ll cast it for you, and you can practice reeling it in while I untangle your line, okay?”
Her expression brightened as she jumped to her feet. “Oh, thank you, Stone.”
He sighed. “You’re welcome.” Then he cast. The line slipped out of the reel, floating through the air in silent perfection. “Here you go, Jessie. Just reel it in slow, like I was doing.”
She took the rod, almost dancing with delight as he dropped to the ground to stare in dismay at the mess she’d made of the line. There was no need in trying to untangle it. It would never be the same if he did. He took out his pocketknife and started to cut just as Jessica squealed.
“I’ve got one! I’ve got one!” she shrieked, and started running backward, with the line outstretched.
Stone jumped to his feet. “No! Don’t run! Don’t run! Reel it in! Reel it in!”
Jessie froze. “Oh! Yeah, right!”
She started to reel, and to his dismay, she pulled in a fish the size of his forearm. Stone was forced to watch her success while her tangled line dangled from his hands.
“Look!” she cried. “I caught a big one, didn’t I?”
He managed a grin while thinking that if he didn’t love her so much, he would pack up her troublesome little butt and take her back home.
“This is fun,” Jessica said. “Let’s do it again.”
Stone dropped her rod at his feet. “Waste not, want not,” he said quickly. “That fish is big enough for the both of us to eat.” Then he glanced at his watch. “Wow. It’s going to be dark in…oh…five or six hours. Are you ready to go to the cabin?”
“No way,” Jessica said. “Take it off. I want to do it again.”
Hell. I was afraid she’d say that. He reached for the fish to remove the hook.
* * *
The sun was dangling just above the horizon like bait dangles in the water. Still there, but close to sinking.
Jessie’s line was intact once more, and during the afternoon, she’d had a couple of good strikes, but nothing like the fish she’d pulled in hours earlier. She was down on her knees, digging through the mess she’d made of Stone’s tackle, still in search of that perfect lure, when he spoke.
“Jessie?”
She looked up. There was a smudge on her cheek, and her makeup had disappeared hours ago. She smiled just as the sun disappeared, and for a brief flash of glory, the sky showed vivid hues of pink, purple and gold. Stone stared at her, silhouetted by the heavenly palette, and knew she would never be more beautiful to him than she was right then. Unable to contain the love he was feeling, he laid down his fishing rod and dropped to his knees before her.
Jessica’s heart surged. The expression on his face gave her more hope than she’d had in weeks. If she didn’t miss her guess, that was love, true love, staring back at her. She rose to her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Stone’s arms enfolded her and he held her close, feeling her tremble as she leaned against his strength.
“Jessie, I very much want to make love to you.”
The deep timbre of his voice raked across her senses, and she hid her face against the curve of his neck and sighed.
“Dare I assume this means yes?” he asked.
She lifted her head and got lost in the hope in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “But I’ve said yes so many times in my dreams that I guess I thought you already knew.”
Even though he’d been pretty sure she would say it, he went weak with relief and pulled her forward, tasting the tears on her face.
“Thank you, Jessie.”
“For what?” she asked. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
As he combed his fingers through the tangles in her hair, he glanced down at the hole in her jeans and the light in her eyes.
“On the contrary, Jessie Leigh. You’ve done something I would never have believed possible.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ve proved me wrong about the staying power of a woman.”
The smile slid off her face as his meaning sank in. “All I asked for was a chance.”
He sighed. If only he could believe their whole life would be like this. And then she shivered and he looked up, realizing it was getting late. The air was getting cooler. And, as much as he hated to move, they needed to be inside before dark. He kissed her once more, just because he could, and then got to his feet and held out his hand.
“Come on, honey. We’d better head for the cabin. It’s going to be dark soon.”
Jessica let him pull her upright, and then stood while he shut the tackle boxes, watching as he pulled the stringer out of the lake. Her fish flopped, and Jessica eyed it nervously as she picked up the rods before starting back the way they’d first come.
“Hey,” Stone yelled when he heard her walking away. “What about your fish and the tackle boxes?”
She pivoted slowly. “I caught the only fish, right?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Then, that would make me the master and you the apprentice…right?”
He started to grin. “Are you threatening me, woman?”
“Oh, no. However, once we get back to the cabin, I can promise you many wonderful things.”
His grin widened. “That sounds like a bribe.”
She spun on her heel and started into the woods. “Take it any way you like,” she yelled back. “But I suggest that you hurry. I’m feeling terribly grateful for this day and for my daily bread.”
His laughter followed her all the way back to the cabin.
Chapter Twelve
“I don’t know how to clean fish.”
Stone stood in the doorway of the cabin with the tackle boxes in one hand and the dangling fish in the other, grinning wryly as Jessie made her nervous announcement from the other side of the room. He dropped the boxes, then looked up. There was a thick drawl in his voice that made her nervous.
“Well now, I don’t know about this. My daddy always taught me that if you catch it, you clean it.”
Stone stifled a chuckle as she stared at the fish he was holding with complete dismay.
“Then put it back,” she said. “I’ll eat beans.”
This time, he did laugh. “Ease up, Jessie. I was just teasing. I’ll clean it, and if you don’t mind, I’ll cook it, as well.”
She sniffed. “Are you hinting that I might ruin our meal?”
“No, ma’am. I’m pretty much saying it outright.”
She dropped down on the bed and stared at her shoes, only now realizing that she’d come into a house—howe
ver dubious the distinction—with dirty feet.
“I’m not much good at the things that count, am I, Stone?”
He dropped the fish on the floor and pulled her off the bed and into his arms.
“On the contrary, Jessie Leigh, you are very, very good at what matters. You love and give love better than anyone I’ve ever known. You’re smart, and besides that, you’re awful damn cute.”
When she blushed and grinned, he felt his heart swelling inside his chest to the point it might burst.
“The way I see it, anyone can learn to cook. But people don’t learn what you already know. That comes from instinct, and from the heart.”
She felt a great sense of peace. “I’ll take cooking lessons.”
He smiled and hugged her to him, nuzzling his chin on the crown of her head as she laid her cheek against his chest.
“You do whatever makes you happy, Jessie Leigh. Just don’t let anyone mess with your heart. It’s already perfect.”
She sighed, hugging him to her. “You know what?”
“What, honey?”
“So are you.”
For Stone, it was the best thing she could have ever said.
“Well now,” he said, more touched than he could show, “I guess we’d better get some light going in here. I’ll bring in the gear and then clean your fish while you sort out the stuff, okay?”
“Okay.”
And that night, Jessie ate fish by lamplight, and made love by the light of the moon.
* * *
The case involving Olivia Stuart’s murder was going nowhere. Stone and Jack Stryker were dealing with dead-end leads and daily frustration.
Before Stone and Jessica knew it, the month of July was almost gone, heralding August and the last carefree days of a Colorado summer. And while their Fourth of July fishing trip had pretty much been a bust, Stone was still determined to take her to the woods and make her like it.
And, because Jessica loved the man like there was no tomorrow, she valiantly agreed to take a Friday off of work and give it one more try, with the following exceptions. No fishing allowed. No rustic cabin without indoor plumbing or electricity.
Stone couldn’t wait for it to begin. Jessica was counting the hours until it would be over. But more than escape from a weekend in the woods, she wanted something from him that she was afraid she might never get. A commitment.
