Page 3 of Backwater Bachelor

"Fishing, huh?" His eyes still twinkle with open interest. "Need a man to show you the ropes?"

"I think I can manage," I say, a bit more firmly than necessary. I grab my gear, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. ”How hard can it be to hook a worm and make a stupid fish catch it?”

”Oh, you’d be surprised.” Danny crosses his arms over his broad chest, clearly not affected by my stubbornness. "Mind if I watch?"

I hesitate for a moment, expecting him to leave. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, watching me with that infuriatingly charming smile. "Suit yourself," I mutter, trying to focus on the task at hand. ”Though, I doubt it’ll be anything interesting.”

I head down to the water, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. I can do this. How hard can fishing be? I set up the fishing rod, fumbling a bit with the bait. When I finally get everything ready, I cast the line into the water, feeling a small sense of accomplishment.

Danny is still standing there, arms crossed, watching me with a mix of curiosity and concern. I resist the urge to turn around and tell him to leave. Instead, I take a deep breath and concentrate on the water, willing a fish to bite.

Minutes pass, and nothing happens. The bayou is quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant call of a bird. I sneak a glance at Danny, and he’s still there, leaning casually against a tree, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Having any luck?" he calls out, his voice laced with suppressed laughter.

"Patience is a virtue," I reply, trying to sound like I know what I’m talking about.

Just then, I feel a tug on the line. My heart leaps. I’ve got one! I start reeling it in, excitement coursing through me. But my excitement quickly turns to panic as the fish puts up a fight, thrashing wildly. I struggle to keep my balance, nearly toppling into the water.

Danny takes a step forward, clearly ready to jump in if needed. ”Still don’t need a hand?"

"No, I’ve got it!" I insist, though my grip is slipping. With one final effort, I manage to pull the fish out of the water, a triumphant smile spreading across my face. It’s not the biggest fish, but it’s a fish nonetheless. Only that then…the whole hook comes off. I didn’t secure it properly and it plunges back into the water…together with my catch.

Danny claps, acting as if he’s impressed. "Nice job, Jane. Looks like you’re a natural."

I wince, struggling to not let my embarrassment escalate. ”I totally did that on purpose," I say, trying to sound nonchalant.

Danny chuckles, a soft smile on his face. "You know," he says after a moment, "there’s a great spot just around the bend where the fish practically jump into the boat. I could show you, if you’d like."

I glance at him, considering the offer. Part of me wants to keep proving I can do this on my own, but another part of me—one that’s growing louder by the minute—realizes that maybe having a little help isn’t such a bad thing. And besides, spending more time with Danny doesn’t sound too terrible.

”Alright, tough-guy,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "Lead the way."

”That’s a good girl,” he grins. ”Putting her fate in the hands of a stranger.”

I shiver a little, but I’m not worried. Danny’s hands seem pretty sturdy to me and…big. My face heats and I shrug myself. Do not think about his big hands. Or anything else that might be big for that matter.

4.

Danny

I steer the boat down the bayou, pointing out the best fishing spots along the way. Jane listens intently, her eyes wide as if she’s impressed with my knowledge. She’s refreshing— different from anyone I’ve met out here. City people don’t usually stick around long, but Jane... Jane might be different.

We arrive at my favorite fishing spot, a quiet bend in the bayou where the water is calm and the catch are plenty. I drop anchor and turn to her, grinning. “Alright, this is it. The fish here are practically begging to be caught.”

She laughs, a light, soft sound that makes me smile even wider. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

I move closer, taking her fishing rod and showing her how to bait the hook properly this time. Our hands brush, and I take a deep breath, catching the scent of her hair. It’s sweet, like juicy oranges, and it’s a welcome change from the usual swamp smells. “You’re doing great,” I say quietly, looking into her eyes.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “I’m actually pretty glad you’re here to help.”

”See?” I smirk. ”No need to be so defensive.”

She scowls at me, but then hums in agreement and I bet that if she just lets things unfold naturally, I’ll have her purring in no time.

We cast our lines and settle in, the silence between us comfortable. I find myself watching her more than the water. She’s got this sweet stubbornness about her, a determination that’s both amusing and endearing. She’s trying so hard to fight for herself, and I admire that.

As we wait for the fish to bite, we talk about everything and nothing. She tells me about her life, her stressful job, and the boss she needed a break from. But at the same time, she’s careful about what she tells me as if she doesn’t want to say too much. I try to get her to open up some more, by sharing a couple of stories of growing up in the bayou, the adventures and misadventures that come with living in such a wild place.

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