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“Of course it does,” Larry says. “You have the ability to do it yourself. Just took the tiniest bit of guidance to make the catch happen.”
I laugh. “I wouldn’t say the guidance I needed was all that tiny. But thank y’all.” I let out a breath. “Wow. This is actually kind of fun.”
“Told you,” Beau says, wagging his eyebrows.
The sheer joy I feel at witnessing his joy nearly bowls me over.
This is our friendship at its best.
“Two whole regular-sized fish,” Beau replies. “Brad Pitt would be proud.”
“I should’ve been in that movie.”
His eyes move over my face, and his smile fades a bit. “Nah. You’re too pretty. You’d show him up.”
Please, I silently pray. Please don’t let this morning ever end.
“While we’re on the subject of movies. What d’you think this porn would be called? You know, where the guy and girl are fishing,” I say.
Larry clears his throat.
But Beau flashes me a smile. “And one thing leads to another and they end up ripping their waders off each other? Hmm. Baited?”
“I was thinking Hooked. Or A Penis Runs Through It.”
“Legends of the Fly-Fishing Fellatio.”
This time Larry laughs and so do I.
I have to confess that being with Beau like this—trying to keep my feelings friendly—is almost painful in the most delicious, most awful way. Because I can’t help but fantasize about what we’d be doing right now if he’d agreed to try more with me. Would he lean over, kiss my mouth in mock congratulations? Would we have held hands over coffee this morning and had hot, athletic shower sex before heading to the creek?
Sex with Beau. Lord, the idea is almost too wonderful to contemplate. But I’m thinking about it.
I’m thinking about it a lot. If his kiss gave me such a sense of freedom, a sense of hope, I can only imagine how incredible sleeping with him would make me feel.
“Feels good to be out here,” Beau says a bit later when we’re back on our own rods. “One of the reasons I wanted to come back to the farm after I retired was to do stuff like this.”
I turn my head to look at him. “When was the last time you fished?”
Beau has to think about this for a minute. “You know, I don’t remember. The first few years up here were a lot about modifying the structures we had and building the ones we didn’t. Lots of strategic planning. Roads, interior design, landscape architecture, permits. That kind of thing. Then getting a marketing team together and coming up with a campaign. Interviewing staff for all the other teams. You know, all the stuff I droned on about in my emails.” He laughs. He’s had a frantic five years, but it’s paid off. “I’ve been so busy getting this place up and running…yeah. It’s been a while since I could kick back like this.”
“I know the feeling. I was just thinking how it’s been forever since I had fun. Just played.”
“Good thing you’re friends with me. A guy who literally played for a living.”
“Hey. Let’s not forget this was my idea.”
“Your idea. My resort.” He casts his line again. “Came together just right, didn’t it?”
He turns his head to look at me.
What if we came together just right, too?
But before I’m able to gather the courage to say what I’m thinking, Beau looks away, giving his pole a sharp, almost annoyed tug.
I look away, too, but not before stealing a glimpse of his hand on the rod.
His knuckles are white. I wonder, wildly, if he’s thinking about it too—what sex would be like. How good and intense and soul-affirming it might be.
Later, we head back to the resort. At the main house, Mom is waiting for us in one of the rocking chairs on the front porch. She’s got a yummy-looking cocktail on the table beside her and Maisie in her lap.
Her face breaks into a smile when she sees us.
“Beau, your mom had to run a little while ago. She said she’ll see you later. How’d the fishing go?”
“Annabel here netted three whole fish,” Larry replies, smiling back at Mom. He holds out his hand. “I’m Larry, their guide.”
Mom’s smile grows. She moves to get up, but Larry waves her away, moving closer so they can shake hands.
“I’m Lizzie, Annabel’s mom.”
“Really? I would’ve guessed y’all were sisters.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “Nice try, Larry.”
“Ma’am, I do my best.” He nods at Mom’s cocktail. “Looks mighty refreshing.”
“It’s something called a basil vodka smash.”
“Smash. Will that get you, well, smashed?”
“Aw,” Beau murmurs. “Larry’s got dad-humor game. It’s cute.”
Laughing, I reach for my daughter and say to Mom, “Thank you so much for watching her.”
“Happy to do it. She’s in good spirits today.”
My baby is in good spirits this afternoon, cuddly and sweet, and I can’t help inhaling her sweet baby smell as she tucks her head into my neck. Almost like she’s missed me.
