“It’s hilarious,” Antonio said. “I’ve watched it several times.”
Of course he had.
I took a breath, plastered on a smile, and walked over to the eager crowd. My fifteen minutes could be up any time now.
7
After signing what felt like a hundred autographs and doing an impromptu speech on the difference between bullsnakes and rattlesnakes, I decided to take a loop around the reservoir to check some licenses and take a breather.
Fishermen that hadn’t had a license check in the last hour covered the dam, and I needed the exercise. I walked up and down the worn and crumbling concrete stairs talking to every man, woman, and child. The fishing was no good—par for the hottest part of an early fall day—but the spirits were high. Several fishermen offered snacks, a chair, and not one mentioned my YouTube video or my Tinder presence. Score one for me.
When I reached the curve in the dam, I noticed a fisherman paying more attention to me than his line. “How’s it going today?” I asked.
The man wearing khaki shorts and a bright white polo looked up from beneath the brim of his tan fishing hat. Garrett. And lying on the concrete next to him was none other than his trusty sidekick, Babbitt.
“Hi Rylie,” his deep voice bashful. “I-I probably shouldn’t have come, but I just couldn’t wait until Sunday to see you.”
I could feel the goofy grin spread across my face as I reached down to pat Babbitt on the head.
“No boat today?” I rocked back on my heels tucking my hands into my pockets.
The fishing gear around him was as pristine as his home. A different tackle box than the one from the boat was open with neat rows of brightly colored lures and brand new jars of power bait. Notably absent were the prescription drug bottles. Had Seamus said something to him?
“Nah, I only had an hour or so. I’m just glad I caught you.” He stood from his foldable camp chair and even though he stood two steps down from me, he still met my eye.
“I’m going to have to check your fishing license, you know.” I held out a hand.
He bent down and fumbled around in the tackle box. “Here it is.” He pulled it out triumphantly. “I had to get a replacement this morning. Couldn’t find the other one.”
It had probably blown out from the bottom of his boat where he’d tossed it after Seamus had checked it.
“Looks good.” I handed it back to him.
“So are we still on for the game this weekend?” He looked down at his bright white ankle socks and Birkenstocks. “I understand if you’ve changed your mind after how poorly I acted last night.”
“We’re still on,” I said, and he looked back up.
“Perfect. I’ll pick you up—”
“That’s okay.” Panic welled in my chest. “I can meet you there.” The last thing I needed him to know was that I lived in my parents’ basement. He’d likely think I was only dating him for his money.
“Okay.” He eyed me quizzically but didn’t push. “Then I’ll meet you in front of the stadium by the waterfall with the horses.”
I’d never actually been to the stadium, but I figured I’d be able to find it. “Sounds great.”
He stepped up to the step right in front of me and reached a hand up. “May I?”
I nodded and felt his fingers tuck a piece of stray hair behind my ear. His touch was gentle, his fingertips barely brushing the tip of my ear.
“There.” He smiled and looked down into my eyes, his face dangerously close to mine.
He was going to kiss me. My heart nearly stopped.
He hooked a finger under my chin and kissed me gently on the cheek. “Thanks for giving me a second chance,” he whispered in my ear then stepped back putting some space between us to combat the sparks.
I couldn’t find my voice. My hand moved on its own up to my cheek. “You’re welcome.” I finally croaked out.
Garrett stood smiling at me as if we were the only two people on the dam . . . the dam. Dammit. I was working.
My heart began to beat again. What if someone saw him kiss me? One of the fishermen or Shayla or . . . Antonio?
I glanced around as subtly as I could, but no one seemed to be watching. I let out a breath.
“I should probably get back . . .”
“Of course.” He smiled.
“See you Sunday.”
“Can’t wait.”
I could feel his gaze on me while I walked the length of the dam back to my truck. Once safely within, I let out a short squeal.
“He kissed you?” Shayla asked when we sat down for a frozen TV dinner together at the shop.
“On the cheek.” Heat rose to where the brush of his lips still lingered on my skin.
“You’re lucky Antonio didn’t see. He’d have probably punched the guy.” Shayla pulled the plastic back on what looked like a frozen pile of mud claiming to be Salisbury steak and threw it in the microwave.
“Antonio needs to chill out. He’s only been separated from his wife for what? A day?” I took a bite of my macaroni and cheese meal not sure whether that bite would still be cold as a polar bear’s butt or hot as gooey yellow lava. There didn’t seem to be much in between.
“Have you heard anything about that dead guy over on Golden Rock Trail?” Shayla asked.
“Nope. Luke’s not exactly talking to me. Plus, I’m keeping my nose out of it, remember.” I stuck out my tongue.
She rolled her eyes. “Do you think Boy Boy’s out there lurking around, waiting to kill again?”
“Nah. He’s probably holed up in someone’s basement trying to stay away from the cops. Or in another state altogether.” I took another bite. “The most logical thing is that he got his revenge on whoever this guy was and then high-tailed it to Canada.”
“You’re probably right. I just hate thinking he’s out there.”
“He’s not the only murderer in the
