She didn’t push, though. Just nodded and cast again.
“Keep your elbow tucked,” I said. “Back smooth. No wrist flick.”
She nodded, her shoulder brushing my chest. She gave a small shiver.
“Cold?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “I know it’s summer, but this river sometimes doesn’t know that.”
“Just a little bit,” she said, not turning around. “Or nerves. Hard to tell.”
God help me, I couldn’t stop myself from moving. From wrapping my arms around her in a way that had nothing to do with teaching her how to fish. I should have backed off. But instead, I adjusted her grip again, fingers skimming over hers.
Every time I touched her, something inside me said to do it again. And again.
Every time she bit her lip or glanced up at me with those wide, curious eyes, I had to remind myself why I didn’t get involved.
Why I couldn’t.
I just kept guiding her through the motions. We practiced cast after cast, and slowly, her line started to fly straighter.Smoother. Closer to something that might actually catch a fish someday. She managed to stay upright the entire time—which was probably for the best, because if she’d ended up soaked and pressed against me again, I might’ve forgotten every rule I had about women.
The morning wore on. She never caught anything, but she got close a few times. Close enough to feel the fish hit the line, close enough to get excited and then disappointed when it got away.
“I’m hopeless,” she said finally, reeling in her line as the sun started to sink toward the mountains.
“You’re not hopeless.” I meant it. “You’re just learning. And you’re getting better.
“Don’t lie to me, Nate, I can actually hear the trees laughing.”
“They’re impressed. Big fans of perseverance.”
She laughed. “My grandfather would have been so embarrassed.”
“Your grandfather would have been proud that you tried.” The words came out before I could stop them, and she looked up at me with surprise.
“You think so?”
“I know so. It takes guts to try something new. Especially something that meant a lot to someone you loved.”
She was quiet for a moment. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Why do you guide? I mean, you’re good at it, but you don’t seem to particularly enjoy people.”
I considered how much truth to give her. “It’s easy. Most people who come here to fish, don’t talk much.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I guess I ruined the winnings streak for you.”
I smiled at her for the first time that day. “Today was different.”
“Score one for the city girl. But seriously, after a day of fishing, what do you do?”
I didn’t know if she was working up the nerve to ask me to dinner or what. I’d had that happen a time or two, but I didn’t hook up with women who were just passing through. I didn’t hook up with women period. I’d sworn off them. The next few days standing beside her in ice cold water waiting for the fish to bite would be enough strain on my control.
“I go back to my cabin and my dog and pretend tourists don’t exist.”
She laughed, but it was softer this time. “It sounds lonely.”
It was. But lonely was safe. Lonely meant no one could disappoint you, use you, or leave you when things got complicated.
