While we ate, the sun climbed higher, changing the palette. I was tempted to take out my phone for photos, but it was too sweet a moment. I tried instead to commit every sensation to memory.
We drank coffee from a thermos, drifting off Alligator Reef with the lighthouse as backdrop, and I couldn’t remember ever experiencing anything like it.
“This is a great first real date. I’m glad I came.”
“It gets better,” he assured, eyes playful. “We’ve only caught bait.”
The fish didn’t matter to me. He was the catch I didn’t want to let get away. “It’s hard to improve on perfect, but by all means…”
He crooked a smile. “You’re on.”
Kai eased the throttle forward, the bow rising as we left the shallow turquoise behind for the endless sweep of deep blue. His gaze skimmed the horizon, never still, and he handed me a pair of salt-spotted binoculars. “Keep an eye out for birds working the surface. If they’re diving, it means bait’s getting pushed up—and the tuna won’t be far behind.”
I lifted the lenses, scanning where the water and sky blurred. My stomach fluttered with anticipation, exhilaration from taking part in the hunt. My eyes teared after minutes of straining, so I wasn’t sure I could trust them when I saw movement ahead. “I think there’s birds that way, around two o’clock.” I handed him the binoculars to confirm. His smile flashed quick and certain. “There are indeed. Good job, babe.”
As we approached the half dozen birds circling and diving, the water erupted in a boil. “There,” he murmured, eyes locked on the chaos ahead. “Tuna.” He pointed with a sharp grin at the silver flashes ravaging the baitfish.
He throttled back and put the engine in neutral. Moving fast, he pulled two rods from the holders and rigged them with practiced efficiency. His fingers worked with easy confidence—line, hook, bait, cast—each motion fluid as the sea. He had both lines in, in record time. I tracked the baits skipping out into the frenzy for only a second before they were lost in the wash.
We waited, the boat rocking gently beneath us, my heart keeping time with the tick of the reels. Then one sang out, line screaming as something powerful hit. Kai lurched for the rod, and then, for some strange reason, thrust it into my hands. “Keep the tip up—let him run, then reel when you can.”
I had no idea what I was doing, but I called upon any remnants of childhood fishing memories. The weight of the fish jolted through me, a wild rush in my chest. This was nothing like pond bass. This fish felt stronger than me. But Kai coached me, telling me when to reel, how to use my weight. My arms shook as I cranked, and it felt like I was making progress. But just as I thought I had it, the line went slack. My breath caught. “I lost it.” The letdown washed over me. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Kai said easily, resetting the rig with quick hands. “Happens to us pros all the time.”
I doubted that was true, but I wasn’t sure what I’d done wrong. I didn’t have long to contemplate. Within a couple of minutes, the second rod bent hard, the reel shrieking. I froze. “Maybe you should—”
Kai was already at my side, pressing the rod into my hands, his chest brushing my shoulder. “Nope. This one’s yours.” His voice was low in my ear, steady despite the chaos on the line. His hand covered mine on the reel, guiding. “Use your legs, not just your arms. Twist from your core. Let the fish wear itself out.”
The heat of him at my back steadied me more than his words. My knees bent, swaying with the rhythm he set—pull, reel, brace. Every time the fish surged, his voice coaxed me through it. His body against mine, an anchor against the strain and my burning biceps.
When I’d reeled it in close and the silver body finally broke the surface, Kai was already reaching for the gaff, his arm brushing mine as we hauled the thrashing tuna aboard. It hit the deck in a spray of saltwater, scales flashing like sequins.
I laughed, breathless and exhilarated, my whole body humming with victory. Kai’s smile was wide. “See there, I knew you could do it.”
His confidence was sexy as hell. But the way he used it to build me up—that was lethal.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I said, excitement still threading my words.
“I guess we make a good team then,” he said with the confident smile that melted me.
"After all we’ve been through, we kind of have to be.” I grinned. Today felt like the first normal day we’d had together. And, honestly, it was the best day ever.
When Kai grabbed a knife, I turned away, ashamed to witness the killing.
I couldn’t catch my breath—from the thrill of the fight, sure. But the residual full-body tingle from Kai pressed against me left me semi-dazed.
“You could probably get really good at fishing,” he said from behind me. I turned my ear toward him, but not my eyes. “Really fast, if you wanted to.” His deep voice rasped in a playful cadence, vibrating from my ear to somewhere deep in my belly and chest.
“Are you offering to teach me?” I asked him, halfway over my shoulder.
“Absofuckinglutely.”
The corners of my mouth drew upward, hard and fast. I couldn’t stop smiling. “Then, yeah,” I said, staring out at the horizon but picturing his face with the same goofy smile I wore. “That would be nice.”
I turned around, slowly. The tail of the tuna was sticking out from under the lid of a cooler. Kai was washing down the deck, a faint pink swirl circling the drain.
“Sorry, I couldn’t bear to watch that part,” I said, feeling like a wimp.
