Hard and Fast (Fast Track #2)(46)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“I would have thought baiting fish would have gotten more sophisticated these days.”

“We’re just pleasure fishing. We don’t need anything special.”

“It’s very nice that you can rent the boat, get the fishing license and all the accoutrements right here at the lake.” She crammed her worm onto her hook. “There. I’m good to go.”

“Just cast your line again, then.”

Imogen was staring at the worm. “So . . . does the worm die when I jam that hook through him? Because he looks like he’s still moving.”

“No. Worms can actually survive parts of their body being chopped off.”

“That’s impressive.” She lifted her rod. “But does the worm drown, then? Or is it still alive when the fish eats it?”

“I have no idea how long it takes a worm to drown.”

“Maybe I should just kill mine now, then, so as not to prolong his agony.”

Trust Imogen to consider the consequences of fishing to the worm. She didn’t look particularly upset or disturbed, she was just clearly thinking it through.

“If that seems appropriate to you, go for it. I’m tossing mine in, because I suspect the fish likes a wiggling, live worm better than a dead one.”

“Really? They have discerning tastes?”

“I would just think a moving worm would attract their attention more than a dead one. They might just think it’s debris floating in the water if it isn’t wiggling around.”

“Oh. That’s a valid point.” Imogen lifted her rod and spoke to her worm. “I’m sorry, but try to remember you are a part of the circle of life.” She cast her line. “Speaking of which, I’m hungry. I should have brought some snack foods.”

“I did.” Ty reached into his smaller, portable backpack. “Water, pretzels, and granola bars. And if you’re nice to me, I’ll share.”

She pushed her glasses up on her nose and trained those big wide eyes on him. “You promised to take care of me on this camping adventure.”

Ouch. She went for the jugular. “Fine. Here’s some water.” He tucked it between her legs. “And do you want pretzels or a granola bar?”

“Both.”

Of course she wanted both. Ty pulled out some antibacterial gel and squirted it into his hand. “Hold out your palms.”

“I can’t. I’m holding the rod.”

“Well, then one of them.”

She did, gingerly, and he put gel in her hand. Sticking the rod between her legs with the water, Imogen tried to carefully rub her hands together. “If I drop the rod, grab it,” she ordered him.

“Of course.” Ty watched her, trying not to grin. She did everything so cautiously, so precisely. When she held her palm out, he dropped three pretzel twists in it and she popped them in her mouth.

“Whew, it’s hot out here on the water,” she said when she was finished chewing, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Drink your water.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?” Ty drank some of his just to make a point.

“What if I have to go to the bathroom? We’re on a rowboat in the middle of the lake.”

“You go in the water.”

She shot him a look of horror. “I am not a man.”

“So I noticed.”

“Therefore, I cannot take aim and just send it into the lake.”

“Yeah, but we’re going to go swimming soon, so go then.”

“In my bathing suit?” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “No, thank you.”

“So take your bathing suit off and go skinny dipping. I’d like that.”

“We’re in public. We’ll get caught. We’ll get arrested.”

She had an answer for everything. “So you’re just going to dehydrate?”

“It is a conundrum,” she admitted. “I am really thirsty. And hot.”

There was no questioning that. “Here, I’ll hold your rod. Take a sip of your water before you overheat. One sip won’t make you have to go to the bathroom. Taking your jeans off will cool you down, too, and we’re going to want to go swimming soon anyway. Just be careful moving on the bench. You don’t want to capsize us.”

“No pressure or anything,” she said, handing him her rod. After sipping her water and handing it to him, she unsnapped her jeans and began delicately tugging them off.

Ty blatantly watched. Her ponytail flopped around and her glasses slipped down her nose as she tried to wiggle out of her pants with as little movement as possible. After a couple of precarious minutes, she had them in a puddle on the bottom of the boat and had her flip-flops back on her feet. Imogen was wearing black bikini bottoms with a little tie on each side, and Ty appreciated the nice view of her long, pale legs.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much.” She took her pole back from him. “Thank you.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, the sun hot on his arms, a sleepy and pleasant lethargy stealing over him. Now, this was the way to spend his day off—out on the lake with a woman whose company he really enjoyed.

Imogen sat up straight suddenly. “Oh, something’s happening!” She had a look of fear on her face and held her pole like it had suddenly come alive.

“Hold steady,” Ty said, leaning over and peering out into the water. He could see the ripples of movement where her line was cast. “Okay, just start reeling it in, slow and steady.”

“Just turn the little handle thingie?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.” Imogen took a deep breath and started reeling in her line.

Ty reached over to feel the line. It was taut and there was definitely something on it.

“What are you doing?” she asked, pausing.

“Just checking it. Keep going.”

She did, biting her lip and spreading her feet to brace herself. Ty just sat and watched her, enjoying the concentration on her face, appreciating the beauty of her face in profile. He turned to the water right at the moment a striped bass emerged, dangling and flopping on her line.

“Alright!” he told her, pulling the line forward so that the fish fell on the floor of the boat. “You got a bass, babe.”

“I did?” Imogen stared at the fish jumping around, then smiled. “Well, of course I did.”

Ty laughed. “Exactly.” He released the fish from the hook and dropped it into the small cooler he had brought with them. “Very impressive.”