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Jackson took a step toward her, so close that there were barely inches between them, and she inhaled fresh soap and morning sun, intoxicating on his skin.
“I want to show you something on board the boat. After you see it, if you don’t want to go, we can fish off the pier.”
“But we can’t catch anything off the pier. You said—”
He leaned in and kissed her, firmly but without force, and she was so shocked that all she could do was kiss him back. He lingered on her bottom lip for just a second before dropping his chin and lifting her sunglasses.
“I know what I said. But I’m not going to make you do something that’ll make you uncomfortable. So, if we have to fish from here, that’s what we’ll do. Okay?”
All Carly could think in the instant that followed Jackson’s words was that she really wanted him to keep kissing her. “O-okay.”
With her brain too wrapped up in the feel of his lips on hers to make her legs protest, she followed Jackson to the edge of the dock. He boarded the boat with ease before turning to grasp both of her shaking hands, and she placed her feet in his footsteps as she slowly boarded the boat. They were mere feet from the dock where she’d stood without fear just a minute ago, the same clusters of lakeside reeds waving lazily from their anchors in the murky bottom, and okay. Yeah. She could do this.
Probably.
“Great. Why don’t you have a seat for a second? I have to start the engine for what I want to show you, but I promise we won’t leave the dock.”
She nodded her agreement, and Jackson guided her to the bolted-down passenger seat before sitting behind the wheel, pulling a key with a funny-looking foam keychain on it out of his pocket. He slid it into the ignition, starting the boat with a low growl.
“This is a fish finder.” He gestured to a square screen that looked startlingly like the GPS in Carly’s Honda. She narrowed her eyes at it, confused.
“Okay.” She drew the word out like a question, and Jackson pointed to the corner of the screen, continuing in that completely laid-back way that made the knots of tension in Carly’s shoulders slip in spite of her unease.
“It uses sonar to show an image of what’s under the boat. It’s not an exact picture, like a photograph, but it gives you a really good idea of what’s down there based on the shape and density of things.” He pressed a couple of buttons, adjusting the screen to show her a series of colorful blobs.
“Those are fish?” she asked, incredulous. There were a jillion waves and colors on the screen. This lake was loaded with fish, right here at the dock. They had to be able to catch something from dry land. Or at least dry dock boards.
Jackson chuckled, and it rippled through her without permission. “No.”
Carly pursed her mouth into a tight line. “Then why would you show it to me?”
“Because that’s the lake bottom. See? You can see the layers of what’s beneath the boat, all the way to the ground. It even measures how deep it is, right down to a tenth of a foot.”
He pointed to the numbers in the corner of the screen, and the picture formed more clearly in Carly’s mind. It really was the bottom of the lake, with a different color representing the varying thickness of what lay beneath them on the lake bed, and a dark, floating space for the water in between.
“So, I can look at this and see the bottom at any given time?” Her innate fear of being out in open water screeched at her that it didn’t matter, they could still sink like a stone, but her curiosity let the question out of her mouth anyway. Jackson wouldn’t drag her off in a boat that wasn’t structurally sound; plus, the lake wasn’tthatbig. They’d still be able to see land, even if they went pretty far out.
Jackson grinned, an unnervingly lopsided, endearing smile that lit her belly with warmth. “Yup. And bass, which is what we’re fishing for, don’t like deep water, anyway. They stick pretty close to the shore, in the grass where it’s nice and cool. We’ll probably do most of our fishing in about ten feet of water.”
“Really?” Okay, ten feet wasn’t so bad. And she liked that close to the shore part. “If they like it so close to the shore, how come they don’t hang out here by the dock?” The stubborn part of her really wanted to get back on those boards so her feet could celebrate the solidity of dry land. But her curiosity kept her tethered to the middle of the boat.
“I told you, too loud. We have to go out around the far edge of the lake, into the eddies a bit to find quieter ground. Unless you want to stay here.” He shrugged, a gentle lift of his shoulders that told her he really would stay if she wanted to.
But suddenly, she didn’t.
“Okay, Gilligan. But keep the Fish-o-Vision where I can see it. And make it quick, would you? Before I change my mind.”
* * *
Jackson maneuveredthe Bayliner through one of the quieter eddies on the lake, happy to find it unoccupied by other fisherman, or anyone else for that matter. They had a good couple of hours before the tourists would come through and booger things up with pontoon boats and jet skis, making it all but impossible to catch anything. He killed the motor and reached down for his tackle box, propping it on the seat behind him.
“So, does this thing have an anchor, or what?” Carly asked, still a little pale from the ride across the lake. All in all, for someone who was afraid of being on a boat but too stubborn to say so, she’d been a trooper, especially when he’d hit open water and had to crank up the speed to get them across the lake.
“Of course it has an anchor. But we’re not going to use it. Not until I’m sure this is where we want to stay, anyhow.” He pulled a lure out of the box, the metal hook on the end glinting in the morning sun, and reached low for one of the fishing poles he’d stowed in the storage compartment by his feet.
“We’re just going to float?” Carly sounded less than thrilled at the idea. Man, she didn’t like to give up control. He grinned and shook his head, threading the lure onto the monofilament and drawing it tight.
“Yup. We’ll be fine. Trust me.”
