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“Okay, okay. Technically, I didn’t take a day off. My boss, Luke, had some stuff he was going to take care of on Saturday, but I did it instead. He’s covering me today to make up for it.”
Her narrow gaze softened. “You really didn’t have to do that just to take me fishing.”
“Are you kidding? Luke was so grateful to sleep in on a Saturday, I think he considered giving me tomorrow off, too. And if you want to have a shot at catching anything worth eating, then yeah. I really did have to do it. Morning’s the best time to catch fish around here. Too late in the day and the tourists get loud.”
Carly laughed, a magical sound that popped him right in the gut. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware fish had ears.”
“Not all animals need ears to hear. When there are a lot of people on the lake, water skiing and tubing and whatnot, most fish don’t tend to stick around. The disturbances in the water along with the higher temperatures later in the day send them packing.” He paused to take a sip of coffee. Bold, rich flavor hit his taste buds, and he drew back, impressed. “Wow, this is insanely good.”
Carly laced her fingers around her own travel mug, a satisfied smile on her lips. “Thanks. It’s a special blend from Jamaica. A little tough to get, and kinda pricey, but if you’re going to get up this early, you might as well have something that’ll kick-start the hell out of your day.”
“What’d you do to make it taste so good?” Jackson took another draw, inhaling as he went. The second sip didn’t disappoint, either, all deep and earthy, and he savored the smooth aftertaste on his tongue.
“It’s fresh-ground, but other than running it through a French press and adding a little sugar and milk to offset the strength, I didn’t have to do much.” Carly closed her eyes and inhaled, the curve of her breasts rising up to meet the open V of her hoodie, and every one of Jackson’s nerve endings sizzled to life.
She exhaled, slow and sweet. “It also doesn’t hurt that we’re drinking it on a gorgeous morning with fresh air pouring in through the windows, you know?” A long strand snapped free from the knot on her head, bringing the smell of wildflowers with it.
Forget the coffee. The scent of Carly’s hair, the way she made something as innocent as a fleece hoodie look so utterly sexy, the jolt of heat that coursed through him every time he looked at her…nowthatwas worth waking up for.
“Right.” Jackson laughed as he made the turn toward the docks. “I forgot. Everything’s an experience.”
Carly smiled over the rim of her coffee mug, and her fresh-scrubbed face and big brown eyes ganged up on his libido in a move that he’d swear was unfair, except he liked it too much to complain.
“Life’s an experience. You might as well eat good food on the way.”
* * *
Carly eyed the small,pristine boat moored to the dock with sinking uncertainty, her knuckles going white around the wicker handles of her picnic basket. This was not the kind of life experience she’d had in mind.
“You didn’t mention we’d be going on a boat,” Carly said, her vocal cords threatening to betray her casual façade. She shifted her weight against the silvery, weather-worn boards, watching Jackson step aboard the boat in a seamless transition from dock to deck.
“It’s pretty much impossible to catch anything you’d eat in water this shallow, so I asked my brother-in-law if we could borrow his boat for the day. Why, is that a problem?” Jackson paused, his blond brow furrowed in concern.
Carly eyed the lazily bobbing boat in a standoff, grateful for the cover of her sunglasses on the off chance it could sense her fear.
“Nope,” she lied. How the hell was she supposed to know you couldn’t fish off the perfectly good pier jutting out from the end of the dock, and that Jackson’s brother-in-law had a boat just right for the job? Her desire to use local resources felt far less emphatic than it had when she’d started tossing the idea around in her head a few weeks ago.
“You want a hand?” Jackson put the fishing poles and supplies they’d picked up from the bait shop down on the deck by his feet, turning to give her a crooked smile on his way back to standing.
“Sure,” Carly replied, feeling anything but. “So, um, what kind of boat is this, exactly?” Her inner voice willed him to answer with something along the lines ofthe kind that’s physically impossible to sink.
“It’s a nineteen-foot Bayliner with a hundred-fifty horsepower motor.” He reached out, presumably to help Carly on board, but she rooted her feet to the dock and passed over the picnic basket in an effort to stall. It figured her one fear in life would rear its ugly head. How had she not seen this coming? Nineteen feet was downright miniscule for a boat. The Staten Island ferry could probably eat ten of these little things for breakfast. And she wasn’t even crazy about the ferry.
Jackson cleared his throat, and Carly was startled to realize he’d stepped back off the boat to stand next to her on the dock. “You’ve never been on a boat before, have you?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, a trickle of sweat beading between her shoulder blades even though it wasn’t all that hot out.
“For your information, I have,” Carly corrected, her chin lifted high. “Just…not one this small.”
“Ah. I take it you’re not a fan.” Jackson’s trademark smirk was conspicuously absent, and she exhaled in a slow leak.
“I don’t like being right on the water, that’s all. I thought we’d go fishing from the pier.”
But rather than tease her or give her a hard time, he just gestured to the boards beneath their feet. “So, you’re okay on the dock.”
“Well, the dock is anchored to the ground. Plus, the water’s not so deep here.” Carly pointed to the shoreline, where a tall swath of reeds poked up from the bottom. “I just feel more comfortable knowing where the bottom is.”
Stupid, irrational fear! Why couldn’t she be afraid of thunderstorms like Sloane? At least that made sense—natural disasters were way scarier than plain old watercraft, for God’s sake.
