AllFreeNovel
Share Us
They remained.
Her stomach pitched a little when the wave from a speedboat rocked the small canoe she shared with William. The muscles in his arms working as he rowed were the highlight of the trip. Her massive neon orange life jacket suffocated her skin, and the dang thing chafed. A lot.
Universal fit. Not even.
Finally, she’d had enough of the thing. She unlatched the clasp and tugged the keyhole opening over her head, breathing a sigh of relief as cool air hit the sweaty skin trapped under the polyester-covered foam.
Heaven.
William sat at one end of the boat; his legs sprawled while he twitched his rod every so often. Lucy stayed at the other end, ignoring her line completely.
“Does anyone actually enjoy this?” she asked.
He glanced from the lake to her. “It’s peaceful. Don’t think. Relax.”
That’s what he’d said at the barn dance, too. That didn’t end so well.
“I can’t relax,” she muttered.
“What’s on your mind then?” He set his fishing pole against his leg and focused on her. “How are you liking Confluence?”
“It’s okay.” She shrugged. “You know how it is in this business. Don’t get too comfortable anywhere because the next opportunity is always going to move you away.”
“You’re not staying in Confluence?” he asked seriously.
“Not forever.” She shook her head. Facing her fears was the first step. But even without that, broadcast journalism was an inherently fickle industry. He had been in the business long enough to know how things worked at this level.
He scowled, rummaging through the tackle box near his feet. “I don’t know why everyone wants to leave Confluence. You’re an excellent producer, and Parker’s happy with the way you’re handling the assignment editing. Maybe you should consider sticking around. You could easily make news director in a year.”
No. His idea didn’t fit into her goal of moving up quickly to the national stage. News directors stood at the top of the food chain in the news department of any station, but that didn’t work with her plan. A top-twenty market. Cleveland, maybe, would be next. Then onto Los Angeles or New York.
“What’s your end game then?” He twitched his rod again.
For the briefest of moments, she had forgotten she talked to an exceptional reporter with a specialty for digging out information. She didn’t want to share more than absolutely necessary so she dodged his question with one of her own. “Why do you do that? The twitching-your-rod thing.”
The edges of his lips tugged up. “Twitching my rod?”
“Yeah, the whole jiggling your pole bit.”
His shoulders began to shake with laughter. “Jiggling my pole?”
“Oh my God, seriously, Will?”
He began chuckling uncontrollably. “Every time we talk about my rod, your cheeks turn red.”
He could not be for real.
“It’s the sun,” she said, defending herself.
He pulled himself together. “You’re the best wife ever, Lucy. I want you to know that. I haven’t had this much fun since I was a kid.”
“Best pretend wife. Seriously, though, what’s with the flicking thing?”
“Well, Luce, I flick my thing so the fish will think the worm is alive. Try it.”
She mimicked what he did. Nothing happened. The story of this fishing trip was summed up in those two words—nothing happened.
Light played across the ripples of the water, and the boat swayed slightly. They’d been drifting for a while when the tip of her fishing rod jerked. She held tight to the pole and glanced at him. He saw it, too, and moved carefully toward her.
