Fourteen
Fishing was…fun.She knew her hair was all over the place and her cheeks were cold to the touch, probably bright red from the wind. She wore an oversized sweater under the ugliest life preserver ever invented. She’d stolen two pair of Beckett’s socks to protect her Band-Aid-covered feet, but that made her shoes so tight it counteracted her intentions. Regardless, Presley bounced on her toes like Ollie, gripping the rod with determination and using the exact positioning Beckett suggested. The sun was out but the air was cool, and the gentle rocking of the boat lulled her this time rather than making her want to puke.
Ollie stood beside her, her hands wrapped around the railing as she tried to peer over. Beckett had thrown the anchor into what felt like the middle of the world. All they could see around them was water. It was unbelievably peaceful and oddly exciting at the same time.
Beckett joined Presley and Ollie at the starboard side—look at her, learning the lingo. Mel and Richard were on the port side, while Bernie was on the bow. Bo and his friend Morgan had taken the dinghy to go farther out. They were a tiny speck in the water.
“Uncle Beck, can I go in? Can I please?”
“Not while people are fishing, kiddo. You’ll scare the fishies.”
Ollie laughed at this. “Okay. Can I take my jacket off?”
Beckett shook his head. “You like when your mom lets you come, right?”
She nodded, her little chin bouncing up and down rapidly.
“Safety first, sweet pea. For all of us.” He tapped his own life jacket, then gestured to Presley’s.
“But the water is quiet,” Ollie said. It was as close to a whine as Presley had heard from her.
“Things can change in an instant, Olivia.” His voice was so serious. Ollie’s eyes went wide at the use of her whole name. Beckett crouched. “You’re our favorite person. Safety matters.”
Ollie threw her arms around Beckett, not an easy feat since they both had on orange life vests. Presley’s heart warmed right along with her skin. They were the absolute sweetest. He was so genuine with her, speaking to her in a way that didn’t negate her age but didn’t treat her like a baby either.
“Why don’t you go see if anyone needs bait or drinks?” He set her down and stood up.
“Okay. Can I have a pop?”
He laughed. “It’s eightA.M.”
She stared at him. He nodded and she took off, starting to run, but then, like she could hear her uncle’s voice in her head, stopping to walk. Fast.
“You are so good with her,” Presley said, eyes fixed on the water. Why did knowing that,seeingit, make her feel so much?
“She’s a great kid.”
“She is. Any chance I’ll catch anything?”
Presley had secretly worried she’d be bored or seasick but instead was enjoying the morning immensely. It would be incredible to catch something and post a photo, but the thought of sharing wasn’t pulling at her like it usually did. Maybe because she’d had so many comments and DMs, it felt overwhelming. She ignored most of them when she’d posted a picture of the boat before they boarded. She’d tagged the lodge and added a couple of fun hashtags, like #FishOutOfWater #GreatAdventure and #GetLost. Several comments asked for more of Hot Mountain Man, but she didn’t want to do that to Beckett. Posting a great big fish though? That would be awesome. Definitely not something she’d typically do. She’d laughed and sent a simple “No” to Ms. Twain, who’d texted to ask if she was working for a rival company. Clearly, more people followed her than she had thought.
Beckett leaned his forearms on the railing beside her and her pulse sped. She did her best to keep her focus. Just like she’d done her best to crawl into bed last night, pretending to be asleep when she’d heard him come in. Just like she’d tried not to think about the way his mouth had felt on hers, the slide of his tongue, and the pressure of his hands moving over her skin.
“Mel and Richard caught three trout but put them back. Too small. If you catch a big enough one, we can use it for dinner.”
Presley scrunched her nose. “I don’t know about that.”
Beckett bumped her hip with his. “City girl.”
“Absolutely. Though I’ll happily admit, so far, this is fun.”
She turned her head to see him watching her, their bodies touching along their sides.
“Wait until you catch one. It’s a total high,” he said, his voice low, making her feel like it was just the two of them out here.
She wondered which would rank higher: kissing him or the feel of actually catching something and reeling it in. She suspected not much would top Beckett’s kiss.
Like he could read her mind, his face inched closer, his eyes open and on hers like he was seeking permission. She did her best not to shoutYes, please,instead playing it cool and leaning into him as well.
