“Dusty and I call them the three amigos. They’re almost always fishing here at sun up. Go on.”
I searched slowly around the perimeter of the pond, “A flock of geese just landed on the north side and . . . there’s a boat.” I adjusted the binoculars to focus more closely. “It’s a small boat with an electric motor, and there are two men fishing. I can’t see their faces, but they look to be around the same size.”
I searched for anything else of note, but nothing popped up. “I think that’s it.”
“Okay,” he held his hand out for the binoculars, “Let me have a go.”
It was too early in the morning for a test. But at least we weren’t talking about my love life anymore.
“I see the three amigos. They seem to be at their usual antics. Though there is more around them than a cooler, a thermos, and a chair. They also have tackle boxes and poles with them.” He glanced over at me. “Don’t worry. It’s early.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. Of course they had tackle boxes and fishing poles, what fisherman didn’t?
“As far as the geese, yep, they’re definitely there.” He scanned further. “And the boat . . . wait . . . how many fishermen did yeh say were in the boat?”
“Two.”
“Take another look,” he handed the binoculars back to me.
Upon second glance, I could only make out the profile of one fisherman. I watched a bit longer. Maybe the other was leaning down to prepare his line, but after several minutes nothing changed. “I know there were two before.”
“There is definitely only one person in that boat.” His tone was teasing, and a grin spread over his face. “Maybe yeh need more coffee and less Tinder if you’re starting to conjure up men in your head.”
“No, I’m serious. There were two men in that boat.” A warning blared in my head. “What if one pushed the other out or something?” A man could be drowning out there, and Seamus was making a joke about it.
“Calm down, Blondie. I’m sure it was just the sunrise shadows playing tricks on yer eyes. I know yeh came in blazin’ with a murder on yer first day, but those things don’t happen very often. Yeh can’t go makin’ a big deal out of every little thing.”
“Can I see again?” I asked holding my hand out. Surely there had to be an explanation.
He obliged and handed the binoculars over. By now the sun was starting to peek up over the mountains and rays of sunlight made it harder and harder to see the details of the boat. “I know I saw two figures. They looked almost identical,” I murmured under my breath.
“Maybe it was a reflection in the binoculars. You only saw them for a few seconds.”
The single figure was reeling in his line. The water surrounding him was totally calm—no sign of someone drowning.
“Can we at least go over there and check it out?” I asked. The man was now heading back to the boat ramp.
“If it’ll soothe yer mind, sure.” Seamus smiled. “But I’m pretty sure I’m not going to rely on yeh to give me detailed information in the future.” He nudged my arm, and I glared at him. “I’m kiddin’. I’m kiddin’.” He pushed his aviators back on his face as if he were Tom Cruise in Top Gun and put the truck in gear.
The three amigos waved when we drove by, their identical white mustaches twitching upward into smiles. “They’re good guys. Retired vets.”
I nodded, trying to focus on what Seamus was saying, but finding it hard over the pounding of my heart. The water where the boat had previously been anchored was still calm, and the fisherman was loading the boat onto a trailer when we pulled up.
“Let me do the talking.” He stepped out of the truck before I could respond. “Hey there. How was the fishing this morning?”
“Not bad. Caught a few little trout. Threw ‘em all back.” The man was huge. He towered over my five foot eight frame, and his bicep was probably as big as my head. “Anyone else have any luck?”
“Couldn’t say. Haven’t talked to anyone else. Could I see yer fishing license?”
“Oh sure.” He pulled out his tackle box and produced a folded blue piece of paper. The inside of the tackle box was far from orderly with tangled lures, crusty jars of sticky marshmallow bait, and a few prescription drug bottles.
“Thank you, Garrett.” Seamus handed the license back. Garrett tossed it in with the rest of the mess, slammed the lid shut, and dropped the box back into his boat next to a large black duffle bag.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” Garrett asked. I tore my eyes from the contents of the boat and focused on the bearded man in front of me. He had to be in his early thirties.
My thoughts whirled. Did I know him?
“Oh, no way,” the guy’s mouth curled into a smile, “You’re the badass ranger on Tinder.” He looked me up and down. “Your profile wasn’t lying. I kinda wish I would’ve swiped right.” He let out a low whistle.
I didn’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed. It wasn’t that he wasn’t handsome—he definitely was—but his cocky attitude was a bit off-putting.
Seamus let out a bray like that of an ass, which was exactly what I wanted to call him at that very moment.
“Were you fishing alone?” I blurted out, my hands on my hips.
The guy mimicked my stance. “Yes, but next time you can come with me.”
Classic deflection. “That’s not why I was—”
“We’ll let yeh get on with yer day,” Seamus grabbed me by the crook of my arm and pulled me back to the truck.
“Let me give you my number,” Garrett said.
Seamus dropped my arm and walked back.
No.
He wouldn’t.
I spun around to see Seamus take a business card Garrett had pulled from the back pocket of his ripped jeans.
“Call me.
