This kiss was like the cool, fresh breeze: soft, alluring, and very welcome.
She didn’t want to think too much about what she was doing kissing a man she’d only known for two days. For once, she wanted to follow what felt good. No end goals. Just now. She’d had enough of real life. It had brought her here. Maybe there was a reason.
Her grip on the rod loosened as her body turned into him on its own, settling into him and seeking more. Her arm jolted, and for a second she just thought he wasthatgood with his mouth, which inspired all kinds of ideas.
He pulled back, eyes wide. “You’ve got something.”
She made a little humming sound in the back of her throat. “So do you,” she murmured breathily.
He chuckled, his hand reaching out to grab the rod. “No. A fish. Turn your body, brace your feet.”
He moved behind her as her kiss fog cleared. She didn’t have time to be embarrassed—she’d fixate on it later—because her rod was bending.
Beckett nudged her right hand with a tap. “Reel. Fast. That’s it. Keep going—lean back into me, not forward.”
He surrounded her. It was difficult to identify where the sense of euphoria came from once the fish broke the water, flipping and twisting. The scent and feel of Beckett enhanced the moment and she kept reeling, pulling the fish up farther and farther. Her arms strained as the fish fought, her heart rate revving up like an engine.
Letting her go, Beckett grabbed a net, leaned over the edge of the boat. “Try to bring him in line with the net.”
She did, but the fish fought for his life with everything in his scaled body. He flopped and pulled, spinning in crazy circles that yanked Presley’s arms at their sockets.
“You got it. I’m going to cut the line, okay? Bring him in?” He pulled a pair of scissors from his back pocket. That didn’t seem safe, but who was she to judge?
The rod shook, the line swinging, making the tip bounce. Presley stepped back away from the railing, trying to pull the fish closer. She tripped over Beckett’s shoe, her arms going up over her head, the fish flying through the air, still attached to the line for a second before it broke free, landing with a thud and then slipping along the deck of the boat, right to Ollie’s happy feet. The little girl didn’t miss a beat as she leaned down, grabbed him in both hands, and held him up.
“We got one!” She turned with a wide smile and faced Richard, who had his phone out in front of him, filming.
The fish flopped and flinched in Ollie’s hand, jumping right out. Presley could only watch as the fish hit the deck again, determined for his life to go on. Beckett hurried forward while Ollie bent at the waist, pointing her finger at the fish.
“You’re being rude. Accept your fate, fishy,” she scolded.
Beckett laughed, “It’s fight or flight, kiddo. He’s giving it his all.” Beckett scooped up the fish, dropping it in the net. “Look at this beauty!”
He turned to Presley as she hurried forward. “Look at this. Your first catch!”
The fish continued to flail in the net. Presley’s throat went tight. “Let him go.”
“What?” Ollie yelled.
“That’s our dinner!” Richard called with a hearty laugh.
Presley shook her head. “Please. Let him go.”
Beckett regarded her carefully, handing her the net. She took it, leaned over the rail, feeling his presence directly behind her as she shook the net, turned it upside down. As the fish splashed back into the lake, a gasp escaped Presley’s lungs.
She turned, net in hand, and flung her arms around Beckett. “That was amazing. I just couldn’t keep him.”
“You didn’t need to. Sometimes all you need is the catch.” He squeezed her tight, lifted her off the ground, then, like he remembered they weren’t alone, let her go quickly, stepping back from her.
Presley crouched, looked at Ollie. “I’m sorry. It didn’t feel right to keep him when he wanted to go home so bad.”
Ollie reached out and patted the side of Presley’s head. “It’s okay. Uncle Beck says if you want to keep it you got to clean it, and I don’t want to do that part at all. It’s gross.”
Presley laughed, the sound cutting off when Ollie threw her little arms around her neck, squeezing tight. Her heart filled and soared like a balloon with no limits.
The little girl let go and looked up at Beck. “Everyone’s done fishing. Can we swim?”
He frowned. “That water is cold, Ollie.”
