The woman had a heart of gold. She deserved a lot better than Jack, despite his money and fame.
Ten minutes later, Dee had changed into white shorts and sneakers. She hadn’t brought a hat, so he’d lent her a baseball cap. It looked adorable with her big sunglasses and curly hair. After spritzing his clothes with bug spray, he handed the bottle to her.
She wrinkled her nose. “No, thanks.”
“Trust me. You’ll need it. The mosquitoes here are as big as birds.” He eyed her endless legs, imagining them damp with mist. “At least spray the hat and your shoes.”
“Where’s the boat?” she asked after following his suggestion.
He handed her the tackle box and carried two poles plus a small cooler out the back door. “It’s a little walk down here.”
“Is all this your land?” she asked as they strolled through acres of greenery.
“Yep.” As they approached the water, oaks gave way to pines and mangrove thickets.
“A swamp,” she exclaimed. “How cool!”
He led her to the small pier where his flat-bottomed bass boat was tethered. Maybe Plan B would turn out, after all. Staying in the house might have tempted him to take her to bed too soon. And before the day ended, he would definitely take her to bed. Even if he had to give his brother ten sleeping pills.
After seating her in front, he sat at the stern. He started the small motor and steered them deeper into the swamp. As usual, the chorus of birds and frogs—along with the rich, earthy smell—soothed his nerves.
“Have you ever fished before?” he asked.
She nodded. “Dad fishes in the river sometimes to save money on meat, but he always deals with the worms.”
What a unique woman. Sophisticated city attorney on one hand. Rugged country girl on the other. Exactly his type… He wished everyone else would agree. Why did their skin have to be different tones?
He chose a spot where he’d had good luck before. Would he get lucky with her, too? God, she made him feel like a horny teenager. The stress of touring melted away under the dappled sunlight.
After he baited her hook, he handed her the pole and told her how to cast it. “The swamp is a little different from the river. The trick is to be gentle and quiet.”
Good advice for an interracial relationship. Relationship? Would they even get to that point? He hoped not. His life was stressful enough. This weekend, if it went well, would be a nice memory to get him through nights of not enough sleep and morning hangovers.
Hopefully, she felt the same way. After all, a civil rights attorney didn’t have much business hanging out with a dyed-in-the wool rebel.
As if reading his mind, she pointed to the small Dixie flag hanging from a pole mounted on the boat’s bow.
“You sure love that flag, don’t you?”
“Oh, I forgot it was there.” He’d also forgotten about the one in his bedroom. Seeing it would probably turn her off as much as his bigoted brother had. “Does it bother you?”
“It doesn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy,” she admitted, “but I can deal. Why are you so obsessed with them, anyway?”
“I wouldn’t call it obsessed.” His line jiggled as a muscle twitched in his arm. “Last time we saw each other, I told you what the South means to me. The flag is just my way of showing pride and joy in my heritage. History shouldn’t be completely obliterated. Otherwise, we won’t learn anything from it.”
“It is your property and not a public library,” she agreed. “Sometimes, I think the pride thing goes too far, though. Waving a flag is like saying I’m different, I’m special, I’m better. I prefer to blend in and point out my similarities with others so everybody is one.”
Irritation prickled down his arms, and it had nothing to do with the sun and bug spray on them. Did this woman ever stop debating? He needed peace and relaxation, not more stress. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring her here. She’d gone to that rally ready to embrace conflict. He’d gone because his brother had dragged him there.
He should definitely take the flag in his bedroom down if he expected to sleep with her… Maybe he needed a peaceful woman. Someone like Linda.
The idea bored him. In bed, he’d rather be stirred up. Otherwise, he’d just agree with Dee and focus on fishing. Speaking of fish, where were they? Their sparring must be putting out bad vibes and keeping them away.
“Your friend giving everyone the finger doesn’t exactly blend in,” he said instead.
She grimaced. “I told her that. She’s angry about a lot of stuff most white people don’t care or even know about.”
“Hostility just causes more hostility,” he said. “Racial harmony will never happen with that going on.”
“I agree there.”
“We are one,” he repeated. “Your parents got that from the sixties, right?”
“Probably. It’s been their way of life ever since.”
“Believing everybody is one is cool,” he continued, “but impossible to achieve in reality. There’s always somebody who’s going to have hard times and feel worthless and left out. The flag says I’m somebody. I’m important. I belong somewhere.”
“Black lives matter,” she murmured. “In a weird way, I think we’re getting at the same thing.”
“My flag doesn’t say I think I’m better than anyone else,” he said, setting down his pole. “It just says I’m me, and it’s my right to show it. Like I have a choice in what clothes I wear or how I wear my hair. Would you want to live in a society where everyone is forced to have the same cars and clothes? To listen to the same kind of music, or none at all?”
“Of course not.”
“Other people can have their flags, too,” he said. “It doesn’t bother me.”
She squinted at the water. “Maybe we should change the subject.”
“We should if we want to catch anything. Our vibes are scaring off every
