Tattoo (Take It Off #7)(33)
Author: Cambria Hebert

“Nope,” I said and fastened the jacket around her, essentially leaving her one-armed.

“How am I supposed to fish?” she complained.

“I’ll help you.” Before she could protest any more, I lifted her into the boat and waited for her to take a seat.

“Don’t you want help pushing it out into the water?”

I held up my arm, flexing my bicep. It was big and manly. “You see these guns? I don’t need help.”

“Bossy and full of yourself,” she muttered.

A few moments later, we were floating in the gentle waves of the lake. I began to row us out farther into the water, where we could find a really good spot to fish.

“This looks like a good place,” she said a little bit later, gazing out across the water to the other side where there was nothing but trees growing close together.

I stuck the oar I was holding straight down into the water, giving the spot a depth test.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“There are some shallow spots in this lake that are only three feet deep.” The oar hit the bottom of the lake floor as if to prove my point. “Let’s go out a little farther away from this spot for better fishing.”

“It’s really pretty here,” she said, once again staring out over the expansive view. “We used to come here when I was a little girl. My mom would bring a picnic.”

“I used to come out here too. My grandfather always brought me and my brother to fish.”

Off behind us, the lake stretched until there was nothing but a line of trees, almost creating a border around the water. To the right, there was a single-lane paved road that wound around the side. It was the same road we traveled down to get to the boat rental place.

For those that didn’t want to fish from a boat, there was a fishing pier and platform that we could see perfectly from out here in the water.

“There aren’t many people here today,” she said, following my stare toward the pier.

“It’s a workday and its afternoon. Most of the serious fisherman would come early in the morning.” The only people on the pier were a man and young boy who were casting out a fishing line with a brightly colored bobber attached to the line.

When we drove in, we saw several groups of people in the picnic areas and there was also some sailboats and kayaks in the distance.

“So you work at the bank?” I asked as I baited our two fishing lines with hot dog pieces.

She nodded, pushing the loose strands of hair away from her face. “Yes, my father wants me to someday take over.”

“But you don’t want to?”

“Actually, I do,” she said, taking the pole I offered. I watched as she deftly pressed the button on the reel and successfully cast out the line

“Nice,” I told her, admiring her sure movements.

She gave me a grin before continuing to answer my question. “I actually have a degree in accounting. I’ve always liked math. Numbers make sense to me.”

“Then what were you doing at the teller counter?”

“My father thinks a successful CEO of any corporation—including his bank—knows all aspects of the business. So after I graduated college, I came to work at the bank, and I have been spending time in each position, learning the inner workings of the entire business.”

As much as I hated to admit it, I admired her father. Yes, he was powerful and successful, but it was because he worked for it, and he was making sure she did as well.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked.

“Anything.”

“What’s it like being an undercover cop?”

“Sometimes it’s confusing,” I admitted, the confession ripping out of me from deep inside.

“Confusing how?”

“Sometimes I forget what side I’m on.”

She jumped in her seat, leaping back a little and giving a small squeal. For a second, I thought I made a mistake, being so nakedly honest. I probably scared her; she probably thought she was sitting here with a bad guy masquerading as a good one.

Maybe she was.

“I got a bite!” she exclaimed, tugging back on the rod and turning excited eyes on me. She tugged the rod again and lost her balance, slipping backward over the little seat she was perched upon. I surged forward, rocking the boat to steady her.

“I think you might need some help.” I said into her ear. “Might be tough to reel in a fish with only one hand.”

Taylor leaned back into me, her back completely melding into my chest as I took the rod out of her hand. She seemed content to allow me to do all the work, pulling in the fish while she sat in the circle of my body.

I began turning the little handle, slowly towing in the fish. “The key to not losing the fish is to go nice and slow,” I murmured right against her ear.

A little shiver jerked her body and I smiled, liking the effect I had on her.

I adjusted my hands so that my hold on the rod was a little tighter – really I just wanted to hold her closer. “You have to let the water caress the fish as you reel it in, so that when it comes up out of the water its relaxed.”

“Mmm-Hmm,” she replied.

The fish was almost out of the water when I stopped turning and dipped down to press my lips against her cheek. Damn, she smelled so good.

On the end of the line the fish started to struggle so I pulled away from her and brought him up.

She shrieked when it appeared from the water, dripping and flopping around. “It’s a big one!”

“Yep, it’s a beauty.”

I brought it over the side of the boat as it continued to flop around.

“It’s pretty,” she said, admiring her catch.

She made no move at all to leave my arms. In fact, she stayed leaning against me, resting her head against my chest. The fish flopped again and smacked into her ankle. She shrieked and pulled her leg away, shrinking against me.

“Are you telling me you’re afraid to touch it?”

“It’s slimy!”

Unbelievable. There was that girly side coming out again. “I take it you aren’t going to be the one to throw it back?”

“I’ll leave that honor to you.”

I scooped up the fish, gently pulled the hook out of its lip, and then dropped it over the side of the boat and back into the water.

“A girl who likes to fish but refuses to actually touch one,” I muttered.

She giggled and watched the fish jump back into the water. I didn’t bother re-baiting her hook. I liked sharing better. So I handed her my rod, which was lying abandoned off to the side. “Here, hold this,” I said as I made myself more comfortable, spreading my thighs out behind her so she could settle more firmly against me.