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But after an hour or so, he’d started having fun.
“I did,” Sam assured her for the third time. “I caught the biggest fish, after all.”
She laughed. “Yes, you did.”
“Twenty-eight inches and nearly nine pounds,” he boasted, his pride making Kit grin.
The California halibut had been well over the minimum keeper size. Akiko had excitedly told Sam that his fish was probably six or seven years old, and that was when Sam’s excitement had begun to wane.
It had survived all that time, he’d said. He hadn’t wanted to kill it. So after getting a photo with it, Akiko had shown him how to safely return it to the water.
“You nearly made Akiko cry,” Kit said, chuckling at the memory.
He shrugged. “I couldn’t kill it.”
“It’s okay. Really. It’s just that grilled halibut is her favorite meal.”
They reached the edge of the dock and she paused to look up at him. She’d been anxious at the thought of spending an entire day with him, but her anxiety had been unfounded.
He’d been wonderful. The perfect companion.
Perfectly polite. Too polite, if she were being honest.
He hadn’t touched her once, except to help her on and off the boat. As if she’d needed the help. She’d been boating since she was a teenager and her footing was sure. But she’d taken his hand anyway, which had made Akiko grin with a delight that her sister hadn’t even tried to disguise.
Kit had held her breath for the second hour—he’d been busy clutching the rail during the first. She’d wondered when he’d make his move, but he hadn’t. So she’d finally relaxed and had a good time, too.
“I still shouldn’t have forced you to go,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry for that.”
He smiled at her. “You didn’t force me to do anything. You gave me a choice. Dinner for two or a whole day on a fishing boat, chaperoned by your sister. Not that I realized Akiko would be there. But that was good, too.”
“I don’t have a captain’s license. I can only be first mate.”
“Kit, I get it. And I had a wonderful time.” He tipped her chin up. “Because I was with you.”
She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. This was the moment she’d been both anticipating and fearing. The good-night kiss.
“You are a very nice man,” she murmured. “A true gentle-man.”
He lifted his eyebrows over the rims of his nerdy Clark Kent glasses. “On the outside, sure.”
She narrowed her eyes. “And on the inside?”
He shrugged, but he was still smiling. “Mine to know.”
“And mine to find out?”
“Maybe.” He winked. “I guess we’ll see.” He continued to smile down at her, patience personified.
She was starting to hate his patience. “What are you doing tomorrow?” she blurted.
“Going to Shady Oaks in the morning.”
“Arts and crafts day?”
“No, I’m picking up Henry Whitfield from his house and taking him to see Georgia. His grandson’s picking him up after lunch to take him home.”
Kit stared at him. “Georgia and Frankie’s old homicide partner? Our Georgia?”
