Page 22 of Hammer and Hops

“Is that all for me?” It was too much, especially when I’d probably never go fishing again.

“Yes and no. I needed to replenish my supplies anyway. I lost a rod and reel last year.” He shrugged like it was no big deal, but Ryan started laughing.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Shut up, Ryan.”

“What happened? You have to tell me now.” I shoved Cameron’s shoulder.

He growled and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Had a stupid walleye rip it out of my hands.”

“What’s a walleye?”

“It’s in the perch family, I’m sure. They’re kind of a silvery green. This one had to be damn near twenty-five pounds.”

“More like fifteen,” Ryan added with a shrug.

“Whatever.”

“It was at a tournament, and everyone was there. Cameron was standing there, walking back and forth with his line in the water, when suddenly it just took off.” He made a gesture with both hands, one clapping the other, then sailing off into the air.

“Gone. Just gone. Lost a good jig that day too.”

I laughed along with them because Cameron was so remorseful, but Ryan seemed like he’d never let him forget the incident. It warmed my heart a little. Was this the inviting, family-like side of small-town living? Would I ever be included in that?

Cameron put his arm around my shoulders. “Don’t scare my man off with this nonsense, Ryan. Come on, let’s check out.”

In no time, we were headed to the lake together in Cameron’s truck. He said he had a favorite spot he wanted to show me.

“Is it where that walleye ate your pole?”

Cameron snorted. “He didn’t eat my pole. Don’t say things like that.”

“Well…” I snickered.

“No. It’s better.”

We parked in a tiny lot and walked down, carrying our gear. When we hit the lake, I was ready to stop, but Cameron kept going to the left. “It’s down here, out of the way of most other folks.”

I didn’t know how to judge a fishing spot, but this one seemed nice. He set the gear on a relatively flat piece of land beside the water. The trees all around blocked us from view and provided much-needed shade. Honestly, it was lovely. “Uh, what do I do now?”

“Get comfortable. Sit by the water, and I’ll hook you up.” I sat down, and true to his word, he fixed up a pole and showed me how to toss it out. “If that bobber goes under the water, you yank the pole up and start reeling.”

“Is that all there is to it?”

“Not always, but since it’s your first time, we’re keeping it simple.” He fixed his own pole, similar to mine, and sat beside me. “It’s too early for beer, but I’ve got some packed in the cooler for later.”

“It better be FBB IPA.” That was the craft beer we bottled and sold around town, including in the grocery store.

“You know it.”

“Good.”

We waited quietly with nothing happening for a long time. It was a little boring, but also peaceful. “It kind of feels good to be still.”

“Mmm…this is the life, right. You could use more fishing time. It’s not even about catching anything, you know.”

“It’s not?”