stomach can handle all that grease.”
Gabe cringed, and Melanie wondered what she’d said to cause such a reaction in him.
He relaxed when Fiona just laughed. “Sugar, if you cain’t handle a little grease, you in the wrong restaurant.”
Fiona started to sashay away, but Gabe caught the hem of her apron.
“While you’re at it, could you put in an order for fried chicken with sides to go?” he asked.
“Headin’ to the lake?” she asked.
“That’s the plan.”
“I gotcha, sugar. You just keep smiling pretty for your lady friend.”
Melanie smiled. His lady friend. She hoped he thought of her as something a little more serious than a friend.
While they waited for their meal, Melanie asked Gabe about his favorite foods, the restaurants he liked to visit, and even whether he preferred sandwich crusts on or off. He answered her readily enough, but she felt more like she was interviewing him than having a conversation. He never volunteered information willingly. She wondered if he was that way with everyone.
The gravy and biscuits were to die for and she was glad he’d shared a bit of himself by bringing her here. But she was starting to worry that she was trying too hard. Did her endless trivial questions annoy him? Would he rather talk about string theory and existentialism? Or was he just the strong silent type?
After breakfast and after collecting their picnic lunch for later, Gabe drove her back to the house to pick up their fishing gear and a couple of very eager dogs.
He opened the door of the enormous detached garage and strode inside. Melanie followed him. Like the house, the garage had a log cabin façade. Melanie was certain Gabe could fit ten cars in the expansive space, but apparently he wasn’t a collector of cars. He was fond of water craft and recreational vehicles, however. Parked inside the garage were four boats on trailers—a row boat, a small speed boat, a large speed boat, and a pontoon. There were also jet skis, a smallish silver camper, several ATVs and a rather beat-up dirt bike. The man was full of surprises.
“I didn’t realize you were so outdoorsy,” she said as she watched him choose fishing poles from the long rack on one wall.
“I wish I had time to spend more time outside,” he said. “There’s nothing more relaxing than sitting in the middle of a lake with a line out and nothing to do but think.”
She knew that he liked to think.
“I get my best ideas out on the lake,” he said. “And with you there as inspiration, I’m sure my imagination will run wild.”
“It doesn’t sound like you get much fishing done.”
“The point of fishing isn’t to catch fish,” he said.
“It’s not?”
“Heck no.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.”
He handed her a fishing pole. “Which boat do you want to take?” he asked. “Or I have the big one docked at the marina.”
A marina in the middle of Texas? Weren’t marinas supposed to be marine, as in at the ocean?
“Whatever is easiest,” she said.
“Marina it is. Did you bring a swimsuit?”
“I didn’t know I’d be going swimming.”
“Skinny dipping for you then.”
“I hope it’s a private lake,” she said.
“Not even close.”
He grabbed a tackle box from the garage and closed the doors. He convinced her to wear a tank top and shorts and then slathered her with sunscreen. He looked mighty fine in his own shorts and T-shirt but when he replaced his ball cap with a cowboy hat, she laughed. Until he grinned at her from beneath the wide brim and her heart went pitter-pat. Melanie decided there wasn’t anything funny about Gabe Banner in a cowboy hat.
Fishing poles, tackle, a picnic of chicken, and two enthusiastic dogs in tow, they headed toward Lake Travis.
Melanie didn’t know what she had expected, but the enormous, clear lake surrounded by hills and trees far exceeded her expectations. They bypassed a long line of vehicles at the boat ramp.
“Good call on the marina,” Gabe said.
Her very first fishing license in hand, Melanie was soon seated inside Gabe’s sleek 37-foot powerboat. She knew it was that long because he had very proudly told her so. There was seating at the front of the boat, which he informed her was the bow, a cockpit in the center, and more seating in the rear. Gabe climbed behind the wheel, and his two dogs scampered toward the bow, standing in the seat with their tongues lolling and ears flapping in the breeze as he directed the boat out of the marina and across the large lake. Melanie chose a safer perch at the back of the boat. At least she thought it was safe. When Gabe increased the boat’s speed and cranked the wheel sharply, a spray of water flooded over the side into her lap.
She leaped to her feet and used her hands to sluice the water down her legs. “You did that on purpose,” she accused.
He just grinned at her from the shadows of his cowboy hat. “Maybe you should come up here with me,” he said. “Do you want to pilot?”
On wobbly legs she slid her feet along the slippery deck on her trek toward the seat beside him. “No, thank you.”
“I could teach you to waterski,” he said, nodding toward another boat that towed a skier behind it. Water arced away from the skier, who looked to be having a fabulous time racing over the lake at high speed.
For a minute, Melanie thought it looked like fun, but then the skier hit the wake of the boat and face-planted hard on the surface of the water. Melanie decided water skiing looked more hazardous than fun.
“I think I’ll pass,” she said. “I thought we were going to fish.”
“We are. I’m just showing off to impress you. Don’t you know how guys are?”
She chuckled. “I was impressed before we arrived.”
He pulled back the throttle to slow the boat and directed it toward a quiet cove at the shore. As the lake was a dam reservoir, it was surrounded mostly by cliffs and overhangs, but this hidden cove had a small area of shoreline. When the boat drifted to a stop, both dogs immediately leaped into the water. Beau took a trip around the boat and then climbed up onto a ledge on the stern. He hopped into the boat and shook the water from his fur, showering Melanie with cool droplets. Apparently she needed a swimsuit even if she had no plans to swim. Lady swam all the way to shore and climbed up on the bank.
“Lady, get back here,” Gabe said, clapping at her, trying to get her attention. “Come, girl.”
She stood on the shore and barked at him, bouncing playfully on her front paws as if to say, Come and get me if you want me!
“Pardon my poorly behaved dog,” Gabe said to Melanie.
“I think she wants to play.”
“I think she wants to drive me nuts.”
Beau covered his eyes with one paw, as if embarrassed by the antics of his dark-furred counterpart.
“Get the stick, Lady,” Gabe said, flapping his hand toward the shore. “Get the stick, girl.”
Lady stopped barking and sniffed the ground. She disappeared into a copse of trees and Melanie gasped, pivoting toward Gabe. How upset would he be if his dog got lost? But he didn’t look worried. He was studying the tree line, arms folded across his chest, eyes watching from the shadow of the brim of his cowboy hat. And she needn’t have worried either. Less than a minute later the dog appeared back at the shore with a branch in her mouth. She struggled to drag it toward the water, walking backward and tugging when the branch got tangled on some brush.
Gabe laughed her. “That’s a mighty big stick you have there.”
Lady eventually got it into the lake and after some maneuvering, collected one end of the branch in her mouth and started paddling back toward the boat.
“She’s really smart,” Melanie said, watching the dog pull the branch through the water.
“She’s the most stubborn and independent dog I’ve ever owned.” He chuckled as Lady tried to get the branch onto the boat. “I guess that’s why sh
e stole my heart.”
Well, Melanie guessed that meant that she would just have to wrestle his heart away from dog, because she wanted it, teeth marks and all.
“That stick is too big, silly,” Gabe told Lady as he stretched his body over the back of the boat and grabbed the branch out of the water. He broke off a more reasonably sized length of wood and tossed it toward shore.
“Go get the stick,” he said to Lady.
She gave him a look that could only mean I just brought you a better stick than that little thing, dumbass, but turned in the water and started swimming toward shore again.
Melanie laughed. “I don’t think she’s very impressed with your stick, Mr. Banner.”
He grinned. “You’re the one I’m trying to impress, remember?”
Melanie pinched his ass. “I’m overly impressed with your stick.”
“I’ll share it with you later. It’s best to wear Lady out early,” he said. “Then I can concentrate all my attention on you.”
Melanie looked around for Beau, wondering if he wanted to play too. But he’d already stretched out on one of the seats at the back of the boat for his nap. Melanie decided the yellow lab was more her speed. The black one was already on her way back to the boat, treading water like a pro, her master’s puny stick gripped between her teeth.
Gabe took the stick from his dog and handed it to Melanie. “You give it a toss.”
Her toss was more like a flop. Lady looked bored as she swam the three feet from the boat to retrieve it.
“Ah, I definitely recognize that you’re a girl now,” Gabe said.
“So maybe I should leave the hurling to you,” Melanie said. “Since you’re such an expert at handling a stick.”
“But I think you need practice.” He grinned at her and lowered his head to kiss the tip of her nose, the brim of his hat beaning her in the forehead.
“And I think you need practice kissing girls while wearing a cowboy hat.”
He swept a hand to the side. “The line starts here.”
She swatted him. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah, look at all these beauties lining up for a go at me.”
She peered to the empty spot to her left. “It seems you have a line of one.”
“Luckily, it’s the best one.”
He leaned in to kiss her again, tilting his head to close in on her lips. Lady’s insistent whining shortened his promising kiss as he went to tend to her again. After several additional fetches, Lady scrambled back onto the boat, shook out her drenched coat and climbed on top of Beau for a rest. Beau grunted in protest as Lady wriggled around to find a more comfortable position on his large body—which apparently had to include her forepaw under his chin. Beau didn’t move from the spot he’d claimed, though he looked rather annoyed to be considered Lady’s personal doggie bed.
“The calm should last at least thirty minutes,” Gabe said with a chuckle. “Maybe I should have left the dogs at home.”
Melanie shook her head. “They’re having a great time.”
“Yeah, but are you?”
“Of course I am. I always have a great time when I’m with you.”
Fishing pole in hand, Gabe handed her a surprisingly light Styrofoam container that he’d bought at the marina when she’d procured her fishing license.
She gave it a little shake and found it wasn’t empty. “What’s in here? Coleslaw?”
“I don’t think you want to eat that,” he said. He pinched his hook between two fingers and held out his other hand in Melanie’s direction. “Hand me one,” he said.
“One what?”
“Bait.”
She shook her head in incomprehension.
“It’s in the cup.”
“Oh.” She hadn’t been playing coy when she said she’d never been fishing; she was totally clueless. She pried the lid of the cup and peered into it. Something small and white squirmed in a bed of what appeared to be sawdust. On closer inspection, she saw what appeared to be hundreds of plump maggots writhing about in the cup. She screamed and tossed the cup in the air, scrambling away from the spill.
Gabe stared at her. “What are you so freaked out about?”
“Your bait is infested with maggots.”
He chuckled. “My bait is maggots.”
She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, her stomach heaving. She should have said no to the sausage gravy.
“You are such a girl,” Gabe said.
“I thought we’d already established that,” she mumbled against her hand.
He stooped down to scoop the escaped maggots back into the cup with his bare hand.
“Oh my God,” she said, swallowing hard to keep her breakfast where it belonged. “You are never touching me with that hand again.”
“Oh, please,” he said, piercing the body of a wriggling maggot with his hook. “You aren’t afraid of a baby fly are you?”
“Afraid of? No.” She turned her head, unable to watch him add a second creature to his hook. “Disgusted by? Very much so.”
“I guess I should have gone with the fish heads,” he said. “You have to jab the hook right through the eyes, otherwise you hit bone.”
Melanie shuddered at the image his words conjured. “Are you trying to make me throw up?”
“Of course not. What kind of asshole would describe poking a hook into a slimy worm’s ass and threading the metal all the way through the center of the squirmy thing’s body?”
“You, obviously, would never be that kind of asshole,” she said.
He chuckled and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. “Ah well, it wouldn’t bother you if you weren’t such a girl.”
She glared at him, but couldn’t stay perturbed at someone so obviously trying to get a rise out of her.
He cast his line into the water with practiced ease, turned a little crank until something clicked inside the reel, and then placed the handle of the pole into a holder on the edge of the boat.
“Your turn,” he said, holding a rod in her direction.
“My turn to what?”
“Bait your hook.”
She licked her lips nervously and took a step closer to the container of squirmy things. As soon as they were in view, she averted her gaze and squeezed her eyes shut. “Will you do it for me?” she asked. “Please.”
“And I thought you once wanted to be an entomologist. Do baby butterflies freak you out too?
“No, but caterpillars are vegetarians. They don’t devour rotting flesh.”
“But these are clean maggots,” he tried reasoning with her.
There was no way in hell that she was touching a maggot, much less impaling it on a sharp spike of metal.
“I’ll just watch you fish,” she said.
Gabe sighed and taking pity on her, he baited her hook. He then showed her how to cast and reel in her line. She found she was really bad at casting—her bobbing thingy never landed more than a few feet from the side of the boat—and she didn’t have the patience to just let the line sit without reeling. So she cast and reeled and cast and reeled and cast and reeled, lost her bait, and waited for Gabe to resupply it before casting and reeling some more.
Gabe eventually took her pole, cast her line dozens of yards across the lake, and then stuck the handle in a holder rather than giving the pole back to her.
“Now for the most important part of fishing,” he said, sitting on a front-facing bench seat and extending his arm across its back. He patted the empty space beside him and she sat.
“What’s the most important part?”
“Sitting quietly and letting your mind wander.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and gave her upper arm a squeeze. The scenery was breathtaking, but she only lasted about three minutes before she felt compelled to break the silence.
“Have you been fishing a lot?” she asked.
“Mmm hmm, now quiet. You’ll scare the fish away.”