“Never mind about the extra rods, Carter,” Cory said from the boat. “They’re not coming.”
“No worries,” Carter replied. “Miss America here would probably scare off all the fish with her fruity perfume anyway.” The smile almost took the sting out of his words.
“Miss America?” I set my hands on my hips.
“With that hair and makeup you should win some kind of an award.”
I flushed. Maybe I did go overboard with the megabeach waves and extra contour today. At least my lipstick was a nude, though. But the smoky eye, and the mustard-yellow platform sandals, and the tight purple tank, and the rose-gold feather-imprinted earrings, and my stacked rose-gold bracelets . . . maybe he had a point.
“You don’t even know me.” I grinned. He was way too cute. “And, if you did, you’d never say that.”
From the boat Cory coughed once. Loudly.
“Look,” Carter said, “Cory’s head’ll explode if we make him talk again. Why don’t you just come with us? I’m kind of the epitome of outdoorsy.” He tapped the fishing rod on the dock and smiled again, eyes crinkling again. He looked so kind. “I’ll teach you.”
I should sleep. I needed to figure out my life. I had to avoid guys.
But, Cory would be with us.
It wasn’t like it was a date.
And, it could be fun. Just hanging out with two cute boys. Pretending I had no worries.
Besides, I used to love fishing.
“Fine, I’ll come,” I said. “My name’s Lauren by the way. Lauren Derian.”
“Carter Wilson.”
Cory sighed.
Chuckling, Carter slowly eased into the boat, testing his balance with his prosthetic. He sat and offered me his hand. His palm and fingers were rough. Ren’s were so smooth all of the time. Carter’s grip was strong too. He obviously worked outside. A Viking-Lumberjack maybe? Whatever he was, I kind of liked it. The rowboat barely wobbled when I stepped in and sat beside him.
Cory handed Carter an oar and sat at the front. “Rule number one”—Cory pushed us off, and set his brown eyes straight on mine—“no talking.”
“Why not?” I asked. “What else are we supposed to do out here?”
He glared at me, his lips pressed tight together.
“Fish,” Carter whispered.
Carter and Cory rowed us across the lake, the oars sloshing with every stroke. As the sun sank behind the mountain, the stars appeared and their reflection bobbed in the water. We stopped when we reached an alcove along the right finger. All around us a million frogs croaked, the crickets were out on full blast, and the fish jumped in random bursts.
Cory handed two headlamps and a couple of poles to Carter. With a grunt, he swung his line into the lake, the lure landing with a nostalgic plop.
Carter pointed at the fishing pole. “This is called the reel. You have to—”
“Shh. No talking, remember?” I whispered.
I strapped the headlamp on, trying not to think about what it was doing to my hair, and checked the three-quarters lure with a Colorado blade Cory had already tied to the end of the line.
Perfection.
Balancing lightly in the boat, I stood and cast, aiming right in front of the thick grove of reeds lining the side of the lake. I reeled the line in slowly, paused, gave the line a gentle tug trying to copy the motion of a frog and reeled a little more. Drawing a deep breath, I focused on the cycle and exhaled. Bass and Catfish were the most active right after sunset, if I was remembering right. I cringed, thinking back to the few ugly catfish I’d caught in the past.
Please let me catch a bass.
The peacefulness was real out here. The gentle bob of the boat, the musty scent of my life jacket, and the crickets’ little symphony, all of it soothing me better than anything else I’d tried so far today. There was that adorable smile too—Carter’s white teeth and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. Was he looking at me now?
Come on, Lauren. Stop thinking about the Viking. Concentrate on the water, look at the line, aaaand I glanced back.
Carter was watching me—I knew it!—his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I whispered.
He shrugged and returned his sights to his own line.
It was amazing that Carter could be real enough to laugh. I liked that about him. Actually, I liked a lot about him so far. But, even if I wasn’t pregnant—God, please don’t let me be pregnant, please, please, please—I had to change my ways. And jumping into a new relationship, barely two months after my Ren breakup, would be the definition of stupid. Kellie was so right. I had to grow up.
And I had to avoid this guy completely.
-CARTER-
Lauren wasn’t kidding. The girl could fish like nobody’s business. She did it in complete silence, too. Cory watched, scratching his head when she got the first bite. Lauren yanked her pole back and reeled like reeling meant the difference between life and death.
“Yup,” Cory said.
When the fish was close enough, Cory pulled the line in. He flipped a striped bass the size of a football into the boat and it wriggled beneath the light of three headlamps.
Cory grunted approvingly.
Lauren’s laughter hit my ears, jingling like a song. “It’s a beauty, right, Cory?”
He grinned and shrugged.
Lauren squatted, tugging the line and lifting the fish to her sights. “Do you have pliers?”
“Why?” I asked. “Don’t tell me you’re pulling the hook out yourself?”
“It’s catch and release up here.” She held out her hand for the pliers, those hipster-looking bracelets clinking with every move.
“I know. I just meant—”
“Thanks, but I can deal.”
Metal rattled as Cory dug through his tackle box, handing the pliers over. She clipped the line and finessed the hook out of the bass’s mouth with a quick twist of the pliers, like a straight professional. “You know I want my proof, Cory,”
