Love on the Line

by Aares, Pamela

  Laurel scooted along the flat seat cushion until she was directly beside Cain.

  “It’ll calm in a couple more miles,” Cain said, “once we get past the shoal.”

  Laurel gave a half-hearted nod and gripped the edge of the seat.

  Cain sure knew how to woo a woman. Not. But Ryan’s efforts had fared little better.

  After the party at Grady’s, Ryan had asked Cara to go with him for brunch at a resort in Sonoma. She said she was busy. He’d asked her to come to the Giants game the next night and join him after, and she’d said she had plants to get in the ground. When he’d pointed out that it was a night game and asked if she really planned on planting by moonlight, she’d just laughed and shook her head. When he’d texted her the next day to invite her to go fishing with him and Cain, she’d finally agreed.

  Ryan made his way to the bow, where Cara stood facing the spray.

  “I love it out here,” she said, turning into the wind. “I feel free. Up close like this, I feel I’m a part of the sea.”

  The boat lurched, and she stumbled. Ryan caught her before she slid down to the deck. He tightened his arms around her and closed the space between them, felt her body mold against his. He didn’t want to let her go. She tipped her head up. As if some drug was shooting through him, messing with his senses, the spray of the waves and the rumble of the engine drifted away as he tried to read the look in her eyes. Thoughts raced in her, that much he saw. But his own thoughts stilled as he flicked a glance at her lips. He bent his head, wanting to taste, but she wriggled out of his arms.

  “Nice catch,” she said, her cheeks coloring. “I’m not used to such small boats.” The flush in her face deepened, as if she’d just admitted some great secret.

  “This is the biggest boat I’ve ever been on.” He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Not much call for boats where I grew up.”

  She shivered and looked away, then turned to hold the rail, using it to move cautiously hand over hand toward the cabin. “Maybe we’d better join Cain and Laurel,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s rough out here.”

  Rough indeed. He followed her until she was safely in the cabin and then ducked back out to the bow. He needed more than a few minutes to calm the spike of desire firing in him.

  As they traveled farther from shore, the waters calmed and Cain began setting out fishing poles. Laurel perked up and appeared to enjoy Cain’s very hands-on instructions.

  Ryan eyed his own pole and gave the reel a spin. In East Texas, fishing required a simple pole and line and patiently waiting at the edge of a man-made reservoir for a stocked bass or trout to find the bait. It required some skill, but nothing like pitting yourself against the open ocean and a wild fish that navigated thousands of miles to spawn in the creek it was born in.

  “We’re lucky to get out here at all,” Cain said as he baited Laurel’s hook and helped her feed her line down into the water. “The fishery was closed last year—no pulses.”

  “Fish have pulses?” Ryan had never heard of such a thing.

  Cain pushed back his cap and then rearranged it low on his forehead. “I’m sure they do; I hadn’t considered it. But it’s water pulses that mean life and death to fish like salmon. When the snow melts, pulses of fresh water rush down from the Sierra, through the delta and out the bay to the sea. The salmon rely on the pulses to push them back to the sea. Between lack of snow and the dams, the fresh water flow isn’t what it should be and the fish populations have crashed. And that’s nothing to the way the spawning grounds have been screwed with.”

  Ryan was aware that Cara was listening intently.

  “I thought the state was regulating the water flow for the spawning runs,” she said.

  Cain looked up from the hook he was baiting. “Been studying up on California water regulations, have you?”

  Cara pressed her lips together. “I’ve read a bit in the papers.”

  Like a hermit crab retreating into its shell, she coiled in on herself. Ryan observed bodies for a living; any player who couldn’t read the body language of guys on an opposing team didn’t last long in the game. He wondered what he was seeing in her reaction. Maybe she was one of those women afraid of appearing too intelligent. But this was the twenty-first century and nothing about her fit the type.

  “Water’s a serious issue in Texas,” Ryan said in an attempt to smooth things over. “If the state doesn’t shepherd its groundwater, oil is about the only export we’ll have.”

  He leaned over to help Cara bait her line, but she’d already fastened a herring firmly to the hook. She whipped the pole over her head, and her line trailed perfectly out from the boat. He cast his line out beside hers and shoved the handle of the pole into the PVC holder bolted to the side of the boat. For a moment he searched for something neutral to say that wouldn’t spook her.

  Cara’s rod doubled over as her line whizzed out away from the boat.

  “I’ve got it,” she said as she grabbed her rod, braced her legs against the side of the boat and began to turn hard on the reel.

  “You’re in for a battle,” Cain said as he stepped beside her. “Want me to take it?”

  “Ha! No way. This guy’s mine,” she said, laughing.

  The fish quickly peeled off about eighty yards of line, then followed that with a few magnificent leaps. Ryan saw the strain as Cara began the long process of reeling the fish in. Several minutes went by. He bit back the urge to help her and reveled in her determination.

  Cara fought hard, but so did the fish. Cain stepped up to her and motioned for her to follow him.

  “Walk backwards toward the front of the boat,” Cain directed. When she did, he dipped the net into the water, tipped the handle straight up in the air and closed the net around the salmon.

  “If I’d known you were such a hand at this, I would’ve brought you out here sooner,” Cain said as he lowered the net and the fish to the deck. “That’s a twenty-pound buck if I ever saw one.”

  Cara blushed

  “Want to give it another go?” Cain leaned her rod against the side of the boat and reached into the bait pail.

  Cara looked to where Laurel stood, watching them all. “Let’s have a look at Laurel’s line,” Cara said.

  She helped Laurel reel in her line; the bait had been eaten off the hook.

  “I’m not really a fan of fishing,” Laurel said. “I might be wasting your bait.” She looked over to Cain, her cheeks flushed.

  “There’s plenty of bait,” Cain said with a half-hearted grin. “But would you rather have a cup of cocoa and watch?”

  Laurel’s relief was matched only by Ryan’s own. He hated to see anyone forced by circumstance into an activity that didn’t suit them.

  “I’ll join you,” Cara said and followed Laurel into the cabin.

  “Not the cleverest invitation on my part.” Cain nodded toward the boat cabin. “I should’ve asked Laurel if she liked fishing. I should’ve seen she’s a woman who likes land.”

  “Women aren’t always so easy to read,” Ryan said. Especially the woman he’d begun to obsess over.

  “Yeah, well, some are harder than others.” He nodded again toward the boat cabin. “Cara’s a puzzle.”

  Ryan shrugged. She was a puzzle, a puzzle he looked forward to finding the key to, even if he had to do it slowly and step by painstaking step.

  He and Cain each landed a large salmon and then sat for about fifteen minutes with no strikes on their lines.

  “I never like to admit it, but I’d say that’s it for the day,” Cain said as he reeled in. He looked out over the blue-green expanse surrounding them. “I think we got lucky.”

  Cara and Laurel stepped onto the deck and handed them both a steaming mug of cocoa.

  “Had to share the goods,” Cara said.

  “Lucky me.” Ryan felt his face flame. “I mean lucky us,” he added, lifting his mug toward Cain.

  Cara turned to Laurel, who held her mug of cocoa as if it were a life-sa
ving device. “What do you do when you’re not fishing at dawn?”

  “I’m finishing a degree in natural history,” Laurel said, the light returning to her eyes.

  “My brother’s interested in birds,” Cara said.

  Ryan admired the way Cara drew Laurel out, made her feel comfortable, helped her forget the misery of the morning and the rough seas closer to shore. Cara had a touch with people. She sure had a touch with him.

  “I’ll have to take some online courses,” Laurel added. “My new job at the bakery will make it hard to get to class. I might have to put my studies on hold for a while; it might be hard to handle classes and work.”

  “No, better to keep at it,” Ryan said. “I left college to play ball, pissed off my old man. Can’t say I would’ve done it different now, but you’re there. It’s a good idea to finish.”

  Cain started up the engine.

  “Did you go to college?” Laurel asked Cara over the chug of the motor.

  “I did.”

  “Where?”

  There it was again, Ryan observed—the drawing back. Cara obviously did not like answering questions.

  “Oh, a small school back East.”

  “I’ve always wanted to go to New York,” Laurel said. “I’m saving up. Have you been there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, ladies and gentleman,” Cain boomed. “Places everyone. We’ll be hitting a rough spot in about five minutes.” He motioned to Laurel. “Sit back up here.”

  Laurel smiled, but Ryan saw her shoulders brace as she prepared for another bout of rough seas. She wasn’t a girlfriend for an ocean hunter like Cain. He looked back to where Cara stood, braced and riding the motion of the boat with the finesse of a rodeo rider. The wind spread her hair out behind her like a chestnut-colored flag of independence.

  Cain was right—she was a puzzle. A puzzle he was no closer to solving than when they’d set out.

  “Looks like trouble,” Cain said as they came in sight of the marina at Albion Bay.

  On the short stretch of rocky beach north of the marina, Ryan could make out a woman wielding a massive pole net. At first he thought she was trying to net a dog, but as Cain maneuvered closer to the dock, Ryan saw that it was a sea lion. A very big and apparently angry sea lion.

  “Grab the dock line and loop it through the cleat,” Cain said to Ryan. “Jackie’s going to need some help with that big boy.”

  The four of them jogged down the dock and over to where the woman Cain had called Jackie was trying to net the sea lion.

  “Stay back,” she shouted to them.

  “Jackie, I’ve helped you do this a dozen times,” Cain said, ignoring her. He turned to Ryan. “Go around to the other side, but keep your distance. I’ll cut the sea lion off at the shoreline. Laurel, Cara, stay put.”

  Cain waded into the water and spread his jacket open. To Ryan he looked like some sort of crazed superhero from a video game. The sea lion backed away from the water and moved a few feet up the beach.

  “I have it handled,” Jackie said.

  The animal snorted and lunged for Jackie. She dodged out of the way and the net she’d held fell to the pebbled beach.

  “Well, almost handled,” she said with a laughing English accent.

  The woman was about to be charged by a four-hundred-pound sea creature and she was laughing?

  Ryan grabbed the net and stretched out to hand it back to her.

  “You’re taller,” she said to him. “See if you can get the net over him.”

  With a move he’d used a hundred times to rope steers, Ryan settled the net over the animal’s head.

  “One sea lion about to be freed from a packing strap,” Jackie said.

  But the sea lion fought in the net and roared its disapproval. Cain splashed out of the shoreline and helped Ryan and Jackie steady the net against the animal’s forceful bucking.

  “Can you grab my case?” Jackie shouted over to where Cara stood with Laurel.

  Cara dashed up the shore and grabbed what looked like an oversized tackle box.

  “Open it and hand me the syringe on the right.”

  Cara pulled a large hypodermic needle from the case. The sea lion lunged through the net at Cara as she approached.

  Jackie took the syringe and with a quick, deft move, injected the sea lion, then backed away from its snapping jaws.

  “Hold the net tight,” she ordered. “Maybe four or five minutes. That sedative will put him out enough for me to clip off the packing strap and see to his wound.”

  The sea lion stopped bucking and slumped to the beach.

  “Keep the net on,” Jackie said in a level voice. “I’ll work through it, just in case.”

  Cain braced both feet on the rim of the net. “Where’s your rescue crew?”

  “Helping out in the Sausalito headquarters today. I was out for a walk on the beach. Lucky thing I had the net in my truck. Another couple days and this guy would’ve been done for. It’s only a few centimeters from severing his artery.” She turned to Cara. “Nice save. I’ve seen you around town, but we haven’t met. I’m Jackie.”

  “Cara.”

  Jackie turned to Ryan. “I’m your first baseman’s wife,” she said with a grin.

  Ryan had known that Alex Tavonesi’s wife headed the Marine Mammal Center and that they’d built a small triage center and research lab just outside of Albion Bay. He actually had Alex to thank for finding his ranch; it was Alex who’d suggested that Ryan look for land up in the area. He’d just never expected to meet her like this.

  “And that’s Laurel,” Cain said with a nod up the beach. “She’s... um, she’s—”

  “Crazy to be going out with you on a day like this,” Jackie finished for him. She clipped the strap and smoothed a thick ribbon of salve on the wound. “You all are.”

  She injected the sea lion with a hefty dose of antibiotics and asked Ryan and Cain to help her remove the net. But it had caught under the animal’s front flipper and it took him, Cain, Jackie and Cara to move the sea lion enough to pull the net free.

  “Normally I’d have a crew take him down to headquarters,” she said. “But I think he’ll do better in the wild.”

  She motioned for them to back away. “We’ll hear if he re-strands.” She put her hands on her hips and stared down at the sea lion. “That light sedative will wear off in about five minutes.” She squatted down and packed up her case. “You the same Ryan that stitched up Belva?”

  “Guilty,” Ryan said. “Apparently this town is short of a clinic.”

  “We make do,” Cain said.

  Ryan heard the defensiveness in his voice and saw Cara brace. He hadn’t meant it as a criticism, but he was an outsider. He’d have to watch his step if he wanted to be accepted into the community.

  They watched from up the beach as the sea lion revived. Ryan couldn’t help cheering as it waddled down to the water and swam off.

  At his suggestion, the five of them celebrated over cinnamon buns and coffee at the diner. The story of the rescue had already spread around town. Several locals came up to congratulate them and to ask Cain about the best spots for fishing, but Ryan’s attention was on Cara. Though he noticed that Cara asked more questions than she answered, she and Jackie seemed to hit it off. Laurel appeared fascinated by the fast banter between the two women. Jackie watched Cara with a thoughtful look in her eyes.

  Before they paid their bill, Laurel offered to volunteer for Jackie’s marine mammal rescue squad. As long as she didn’t ever have to get on a boat, she qualified with a shy laugh.

  Ryan was intent on securing another date with Cara. When she rose to leave, he walked with her out of the diner.

  “I have a game tonight,” he said as they stepped onto the front sidewalk. “Would you like to come?” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I could send a driver for you,” he added when she didn’t reply.

  She stared at him for a moment and then shook her head.

  “That’s kind
,” she said, “but I can’t.”

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday, it’s a day game. We could have dinner in the city after. There’s a new chef at the Ritz”—he saw her stiffen—“or we could just drive up the coast to The Blue Heron and have some oysters.”

  “I really can’t,” she said again.

  Maybe she hated baseball.

  “How about a hike? There are some good trails that back up to my ranch.”

  He was grasping at anything he could think of. Hiking was not an activity high on his list. If he’d gone out hiking on the ranch where his father worked, the hands would’ve thought he was nuts. But right then he would’ve offered up almost anything just to have another opportunity to see her. A hike was a small price to pay.

  She laughed. “Okay.” She crossed her arms and shrugged, and an enchanting smile curved into her face. “I thought I’d better stop you before you threw in an offer for hang-gliding.”

  He laughed with her, but he felt off balance. One minute she seemed a simple country soul and the next her smooth, sophisticated manner and ability to charm him made him feel like he was dealing with a worldly Cleopatra. She had a damned disturbing way of shifting her behavior and his expectations.

  Chapter Eight

  Cara pulled up to the gate at Ryan’s ranch. All week she’d considered calling and canceling their date to hike.

  It’d been a week from hell.

  The school bus blew a tire and scared the daylights out of her, to the delight of Sam Rivers and his friends. If they’d been on anything but a straight stretch of road... Well, she didn’t want to think about what could’ve happened.

  Her mother was still insisting on coming out to Albion Bay. Cara had put her off again, but the deferment wouldn’t last.

  The details and bother of dealing with her financial life had mushroomed beyond belief. She’d bought herself a reprieve by stalling her decisions, but it was just that, a stall.

  And hiding her business was becoming more difficult. Although she’d wisely opened a post office box in a neighboring town, the clerk had eyed the pile of registered letters when she’d gone in to collect her mail. She hoped he wasn’t a talker.