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I took that to mean he’d tossed the medal overboard at some point after he’d returned to the States.
“What about you, Caleb Cortano?” Jace asked with a loud sigh. “What are you good at?”
Besides fucking my father?
I shoved the errant thought away and began reeling in my line, more so I’d have something to occupy my hands while I spoke than anything else.
“Everything,” I admitted. “Well, I was, anyway.” I cast him a glance. “Straight-A student, captain of the football team, basketball team, baseball team, soccer team… you get my drift,” I said with a shrug. “I made friends wherever I went and grown-ups loved me because I was respectful and well-behaved. Perfect kid,” I muttered. I looked over at him and said, “So to answer your question… nothing important.”
I expected him to argue with me and he did.
But not in the way I was expecting.
“Not true… you’re a much better hook-from-ass remover than Dalton, and I’ve never seen anyone bait a hook so gracefully.”
I couldn’t help the smile that drifted across my mouth.
“And the lengths you went to just to feed your Sno Balls habit? Impressive,” Jace said in all seriousness.
“Shut up,” I growled. “At least I don’t still need a cup of warm milk at bedtime.”
“Hey,” Jace said loudly. He pointed at me with mock irritation. “That’s pink milk, not warm milk. Because that shit’s just nasty.”
I chuckled and we both fell into a more comfortable silence. I cast my line back out.
“Jace,” I said as I kept my eyes on the water.
“Yeah?”
“If it helps, I don’t think there’s anything average about you.”
He was quiet for a really long time. “Caleb?”
“Yeah?”
“It helps.”
I found myself smiling wide, but I kept from looking at him.
“Caleb?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you want to know what you’re good at?”
I didn’t answer him. I heard him shift his weight and then sensed him behind me, but I didn’t turn to look at him, though I really wanted to. I shivered when his fingers briefly drifted over the back of my neck. Then his lips were dropping to the top of my head and his fingers curled around my throat until they were resting on my thrumming pulse.
“All the stuff that really matters. Don’t forget that, okay?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he reached past me to grab my nearly empty water bottle. The move put his face precariously close to mine. “Will you watch my line for a second?”
I swallowed around the knot of anticipation in my throat. “Yeah,” I choked out.
Then he was gone and I finally managed to take in a deep breath. Seconds later I heard a clanging sound behind me. I looked over my shoulder just in time to see Jace’s fishing pole bounce along the bench and then disappear over the side of the boat and splash into the water below. I let out a bark of laughter as I realized Jace had forgotten to put his rod in one of the holders to keep the pole from going overboard in case a fish took the bait.
I began laughing.
And laughing.
And laughing.
And that was how Jace found me.
Bent over my own rod, tears of laughter streaming down my face.
“What?” he asked. “What happened?”
I managed to point at the place his pole had been.
“Oh hell,” he muttered. “Not again. Dalton’s going to fucking kill me.”
That just sent more peals of laughter bursting from my throat.
Jace had been right.
He couldn’t fish for shit.
And it was in that exact moment that I lost the first little bit of my heart to Jace Christenson, and I just knew it would only be a matter of time before the rest followed.
Chapter 9
Jace
“Favorite color?”
“Black,” I responded between bites.
“Nuh-uh, no one’s favorite color is black.”
“Not how this works,” I reminded Caleb. “Favorite movie?”
He sent me a dirty look, then said, “Lord of the Rings. Favorite celebrity?”
“Martha Stewart.”
“No way!” Caleb practically yelled.
“Favorite holiday?” I asked.
“Nope, we’re going back to the Martha Stewart thing.” I nearly chuckled at his look of outrage. “Martha Stewart is not your favorite celebrity.”
“She is,” I said. “Scout’s honor.”
“Were you even a scout?”
“You answer my question first.”
“Halloween,” Caleb said. “Were you really a scout?”
“I was… most of my merit badges were the pity ones, but—”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Caleb said as he put his hands up in the universal time-out sign. “Time out. Martha Stewart? Martha Stewart? What… how… what?”
I felt my insides warm as I watched Caleb. He was so animated and… free. It was the first time in the six days since we’d been on the boat that he’d finally let his guard completely down and was just himself.
“Why Halloween?” I asked. Predictably, Caleb sent me an annoyed look.
“Because…”
When I arched my eyebrows at him, he sighed and said, “Because I got to go as my favorite character from Harry Potter.”
I nodded. “Harry,” I said knowingly.
