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Hank Heron’s been fishing at Friendly Beach for five or six years. There was a contest to name him, and Friendly Middle School’s baseball team suggested Hank Heron. It was the favorite by a landslide. The boys got to ride in a heron-shaped float in Friendly’s Earth Day parade.
The memory brings a smile to my face. Jared was on that team. He looked proud as a peacock on the heron float.
He’d be devastated if Hank swallowed a fishhook. Everyone in Friendly would be.
I look up at Hank. “What can we do to keep that from happening?”
Bishop runs a hand through his hair. “Fishermen need to be careful, of course. But I’ve been brainstorming other ideas. Jared’s helping me. We talked about it when I helped him with the forms for his LLC. In his paddle tours, he’s going to spread the message that’s it important not to feed or harass wildlife.” A smile stretches across his handsome face. “You’ve raised an amazing kid.”
Just when I think I can’t be crazier about this man, he manages to compliment both me and my son in a single sentence.Could he be more perfect?
“Jared’s amazing,” I agree, “but I didn’t raise him on my own. Mom and Tuck played a huge role. Coop, too.” I take a deep breath before adding, “And you, Bishop. You’ve always been there for us.”
“I’ll always be there for you, Hazel.” His beautiful eyes meet mine once more.Oh, my. The smolder is real, y’all.Then he breaks eye contact and looks up at Hank. “I guess it’s time to check the poles to see if we have any fish on.”
He pushes up from the ground and holds out a hand to help me up. I look at his extended hand for a moment before shaking my head.If he touches me right now,I may not be able to resist throwing myself into his arms.
I gesture at Honey, who’s now fast asleep. “Mind if Honey and I stay right here?”
He smiles. “Not at all. I’ll be right back.”
I watch as the heron walks along the rail beside Bishop, dogging his every move. From that position, the heron has a significant height advantage, and my stomach flips with nerves. Bishop’s strong and fit with muscles clearly visible beneath his T-shirt. But with the sharp beak and claws, the heron is formidable.
Bishop opens a cooler filled with ice, getting it ready for any fish that are keepers. Hank watches as Bishop checks the first line.
“Fish on!” Bishop reels in the line and whistles. “A pretty seatrout.”
“Nice.” With a brother who owns a bait shop, I have an appreciation for tasty fish. “Smoked trout is my favorite.”
He works quickly, careful to keep the fish—and the hook—out of Hank’s reach. Once he’s removed the hook, he tosses the trout toward the open cooler.
Calamity strikes in the form of a ginger tabby cat.
“Houdini, no!” Bishop reaches out to block the cat, but he’s too late. The damage is done. The trout is too big for Houdini to make a clean catch, but he knocks it off course. It sails over the cooler and hits the deck, flopping around like…well, like a fish out of water.
Then several things happen at once.
Woken by the commotion, Honey darts toward Houdini, desperate to play with a new friend. Houdini jumps out of reach and lands gracefully on the railing. My little dog leaps with all her might to follow him—and tumbles right off the pier.
I scream, scrambling to grab hold of her leash and gripping it tight as Bishop shouts, “Watch out!” He hurls himself on top of me, pushing me against the deck, and covers me with his body.
A moment later, the heron is there, beating us with his flapping wings as he attempts to snap up the flopping fish.
The heron’s wings are powerful, but with Bishop protecting me, I’m not afraid for my safety.
But my sweet dog…“Honey,” I whimper.
“She’s okay,” Bishop breathes into my ear. “Listen.”
At first, I can only hear the fish flopping on the dock and the bird flapping it’s enormous wings. Then I hear the barking.
Honey!My hand is wrapped tightly around the leash and Honey’s clipped into her harness. She’s dangling over the edge, but she’s okay.
The heron flaps his wings for a few more moments, and I can hear his feet scratching at the surface of the deck. But now that I know Honey’s safe, all I can think of is Bishop. On top of me.
On. Top. Of. Me.
And my goodness, he smells good. Like sunscreen and sunshine and the hint of cologne.
