Page 46 of Biker Daddy

Drew walked her back to her cabin and listened to her ramble on about her uncle’s spider dogs (split at each end so they would curl into spider legs when cooked over the fire). He was a good listener, but damn, knowing she was about to disobey him made her nervous.

After getting the tools she needed and making damn sure Drew wasn’t hiding in wait, she went back to Uncle Ray’s. She pulled on the rubber boots she’d kicked on the porch earlier and then crouched down and got to work on the lock.

It was easier to pick than she’d thought. Apparently picking locks was like riding a bike. She was thankful for the interviews and research she’d done for Steven and Daniel. She learned a lot: self-defense, first aid in the wild, and eating for survival when you’re nowhere near civilization were just a few of the things she’d learned.

Inside, she shone her flashlight beam on the beast in the tank. The fish was still until the beam caught its eye, then it darted forward, hiding behind a pathetic little plastic leaf. Its mouth hung slightly open, showing lots of sharp teeth.

“It’s okay, grandpa fish. I’m going to let you free for Uncle Ray.”

Addi got closer to the fish before she realized two things: one, it was way bigger than she remembered and two, she hadn’t planned her rescue out. How the hell would she get it to the lake? She couldn’t carry it with all those teeth ready to bite her fingers off. Besides, it was dark and if he flopped out of her arms, she might never find him before he ran out of oxygen.

She glanced around with her flashlight beam searching for something to carry it in. How long could a fish live without water? The lake was close but what was considered close when you were holding your breath and struggling?

What if she put its head in the bucket and wrapped her arms around the body to keep it from flopping out? She looked at the tiny bucket and then back at the huge fish.

“Why couldn’t you just be like a dog and follow the bucket of little fish? Here, fishy-fishy.” She huffed and saw a garbage bag on the counter. Aha!

Addi filled the bag with water, bucket by bucket, ignoring the small tear that let water and an awful fish smell leak onto her booted feet. Once it was half full she looked back at the tank and grimaced. How was she going to hold the bag and get the fish—and how the hell did you get a fish with sharp teeth out of a tank without getting bit?

She held the bag with one hand and tugged the elastic out of her ponytail, tying the bag closed with it. Once she was sure it was secure, she went to the kitchen area and started opening and closing drawers, mumbling and grousing, until she found what she was looking for.

“Ha! Try and bite through these, sucker!” She put her hands in a big pair of oven mitts and grabbed the bag.

She puffed, out of breath, as she dragged the bag closer to the tank and untied it.

“You think…” She breathed. “You could… jump in?” she asked, holding the bag open and looking pleadingly at the fish. Her voice squeaked as a light clicked on and she let go of the bag. Water rushed all over the floor and her boots while she screeched.

A deep chuckle made her yell, “Who’s there?” She covered her eyes, which weren’t used to the bright light that was pointed at her face.

“Ah, baby girl, you look quite adorable in rubber boots and oven mitts, but you’re in so much trouble.”

“Drew?”

“That’s right, honey.”

“But… How’d you get in here?”

“There’s a back door.”

“But…”

He flicked on the big light and she saw he was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs she had passed right by in search of the oven mitts. He looked quite comfortable, with an ankle crossed over his knee and a fishing net in his hands.

“Shit!” She pointed at the net. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

And at that very moment as if the fates were laughing at her and rooting for Drew, the floor creaked and her foot went straight through the wood, knocking her off balance and onto her butt.

She looked at Drew, who set the net down and crossed his arms. “Appropriate oven mitts, by the way. That fish would have bitten right through them though.”

“Oh,” she said, looking sheepish. The oven mitts were shaped and decorated like fish. She’d bought them for Uncle Ray last Christmas. “At least the boot protected my foot,” she offered, pointing at the hole where her booted foot disappeared.

He only shook his head. She yanked her foot out of the rubber footwear and stuck it in the air, wiggling her toes. “Look, no cuts!”

Drew walked to her, avoiding the puddle and the hole and hefted her up by the armpits, only releasing her long enough to scoop her up properly and carry her out to the porch. He set her down and pointed to the rocking chair. She blinked from him to it and back again.

“Addi,” he warned. She stamped the still booted foot and sat.

“What are you going to do?”

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