Page 61 of Roughing It

“Are you asking?” Shaking his head, he peels open the lid on the cooler, showing me some sodas, water bottles, and snacks. “Worms work better, but we’re using spinners today.”

“You’re such a shit.” With a toss of my hair, I power ahead of him, not stopping until I reach the water’s edge. He only has to adjust my direction three times during the twenty-minute hike from the cabin to the lake, so I’m claiming it as a victory.

Hudson steps onto the bow of his small speedboat and before I can run away, he’s got me onboard. The purr of the motor and the splashing of the water against the stern echo in the eerie quiet of the large body of water. Hudson navigates us away from the shore, the clearing long out of sight, hidden in swathes of trees and the distance we’ve put between it and us.

“How deep is this water?” I ask.

“Maxes out around ninety feet.”

I shake my head and mutter as I stare out over the dark, choppy water. I prefer my water clear, like pools, hot tubs and springs, the Caribbean. This is the perfect setting for a scary movie about a water ghost rising from the cryptic depths and taking its revenge on the living. AKA us.

It doesn’t help that the sun is hiding behind clouds. And while Hudson wasn’t lying when he said it’s warmer than yesterday, it’s still cold, especially with the occasional wind bursts. Out here in the open water, there’s no buffer, and it rips through my sweatshirt.

I’m ready to tell Hudson that we should go back to the cabin when my raincoat hits me in the face.

“What the hell?”

“I figured you’d forget your jacket, so I grabbed it. I can’t stand listening to you whine about being cold all day. Put it on.”

Hudson’s going to owe my dentist for all the teeth grinding he provokes. “Nice to know making out didn’t change your personality. Still an asshole, I see.”

He laughs—an honest to god laugh. The unexpected noise evaporates all my annoyance and makes me tingle. It’s magnificent.Rough, loud, authentic. I’ve heard him chuckle, bark, even snort, but this is special.

Hudson snags one of the fishing poles, places the lure on the line, and hands it to me.

“If I catch a fish, do I have to touch it?”

“You eat fish, right?” He raises one eyebrow at me.

“This is so not the same as eating already dead, prepared, cooked fish.” I bat my lashes at him and pooch my lower lip.

“Fine,” he sighs. “If you catch anything, I’ll help you remove it from the hook. Happy?”

“Yes, very.” I give him a quick kiss.

After what feels like ages of quiet, I scoot closer and nudge him with my knee. “We should have stayed in bed and gotten to know each other more. Instead of this.” I gesture toward my tangled fishing line and the gloomy water.

“I can’t believe I am saying this, but don’t you need content for your socials?”

“Sure, but this is so…” My nose wrinkles.

“That explains it perfectly.” He chuffs, then grows silent. His eyes cut to me once, then twice.

“What?”

Hudson jiggles his fishing pool, his eyes fastened on the tiny red and white bobber dancing in the water. “It goes without saying, but I don’t want any more personal moments filmed.”

“Hey.” I lean in and nuzzle my face against his. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’d still like to have you in my lives and stills, but only these types of things.” I wave around us. “Anything else is ours, Bear. I promise.” As I speak, I skim my fingers over his thigh, inching ever higher until he snatches my wrist.

“Fishing now, fun later,” he says.

“Boo. How about fun now, fishing never?”

“Blakely…”

“Fine,” I huff.

Hudson helps me unknot my line and shows me how to cast, telling me to wiggle it, let it sink, then slowly reel it in and repeat. He models it for me, and while I don’t care about fishing, I care that he cares. He’s so detailed and thorough as he explains what to do, and that level of expertise is damn sexy.

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