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I felt my teammates’ gazes, and I turned my eyes to them for a moment. They both had confused looks on their faces—and I knew if I said much more to Angelique and Marcel—that I’d betray their trust.
Trey had been through the wringer for the last year. Overcoming everything he had was no small feat. And I knew he worked daily to keep himself in check.
He didn’t need me reminding him of everything that had gone on in his life. Because he was living it.
Nothing good would come out of pointing fingers.
And if Jillian was right, and Beau was really “skating around on eggshells,” between us, trying to pretend everything was all right—well, then he was going to have to stop doing that.
Just like Trey and I were going to have to stop relying on him so much.
Telling the owners all of our garbage wouldn’t do any good. The only thing that would do is drive a wedge between me and the guys. That wasn’t going to get us to the finals.
I looked back at Angelique and Marcel. “I’d rather talk about some ways to improve.”
3
Cash
“Isn’t it kind of late in the season to be fishing?” Beau’s annoyed voice spat out. He held the pole as though it might explode at any moment.
It was more than a little comical to see him so uncomfortable. Normally, Beau Moreau was calm, cool, and collected at all times. Seeing him out of his element was an eye-opening experience so far.
“He’s right, it’s fucking cold out here,” Trey added his two cents in, not looking pleased with his current situation.
“We fish on ice-covered lakes. This is a lot warmer.” I pointed out the truth. I’d been ice fishing many times in my life. And yes, it was colder than this. A lot colder.
Trey frowned. “You Canadians have issues. It’s cold as balls out here.” He shivered and pulled his hat further down.
Now it was Beau’s turn to frown. “I think the expression is ‘hot as balls.’ Not ‘cold as balls.’”
I couldn’t stop myself from laughing at the direction of the conversation.
Trey rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Who cares? It’s goddamn cold out here, and I don’t think I have any balls left. They’ve either retreated or frozen right off.”
I reached forward, and the boat swayed from side to side. My fingers grasped a tag on Beau’s fishing waders and yanked it off. “You forgot to remove this.” I handed the price tag to Beau.
“Wait, those are new?” Trey’s voice rose a few too many octaves. “I thought you said you’d fished before?”
Trey and I had a good chuckle at Beau’s expense.
Beau frowned at us. “I couldn’t find my fishing supplies. Gigi must’ve moved them around somewhere. So I had to buy new stuff.”
That made Trey and I laugh even harder. When I was finally able to speak, I said, “First, it’s called gear. And if you’d ever fished before—you’d know that.”
Trey burst out into another laughing fit. “And second, Gigi is the most organized person I’ve ever met. If you can’t find your crap—it never existed.”
Beau set down his fishing pole—that looked suspiciously new. He grumbled something inaudible under his breath.
When Trey settled down, he looked at our captain. “We’re just bugging you, man. I can help you bait your hook if you want?”
Beau’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he tilted his head. “Umm, okay.”
Trey shot me a look, and I smirked. “Who’d have thought our Canadian captain had never been fishing before?”
Beau shook his head and ignored our next few jabs at him and his inability to fish.
“Do you fish very often?” Trey asked me while we got Beau set up and his line in the water.
