Page 14 of The Wedding Twist

When he’d emerged from the tackle shop, caught her eye, and waved, her stomach had just about bottomed out.

There was no denying she was attracted to him. But his type was all too common in the area, and even though the desire was undeniable, they were in no way compatible.

Celeste took after her mother in her level of interest in the outdoor-granola lifestyle, a level hovering at zero. Was it so wrong that she preferred a climate-controlled room and her down comforter over sleeping on rocky, uneven ground, with the threat of a bear attack always in the back of her mind? That she liked eating well-cooked food from sanitized dishes at a level table rather than gross camp food from a tin plate balanced on her lap?

Jack was exactly the kind of guy who looked down on people like Celeste. And even if he wasn’t, she had one job right now, and that job required all her spare time and headspace.

“Earth to Celeste,” Quinn said, waving a piece of waffle on a fork in her face.

“Fine, you can come to the class with me,” she said. “But if you do anything to embarrass me, you’re never borrowing my car again.”

“I’ll behave. Scout’s honor,” Quinn said. She grinned. “But I was asking you to pass the ketchup.”

Celeste’s cheeks burned as her sisters erupted in laughter. “All right, laugh it up,” she said and tossed a sugar packet across the table at Quinn. “You can pay for your own breakfasts.”

Chapter Five

On Monday evening,Celeste strode down the hallway at Oakview College balancing a container of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies she’d nicked from the rack Jeannie had made for happy hour, Quinn trailing behind her with her Pentax hanging from a strap around her neck.

Celeste paused outside of the classroom, finger combed her hair, then looked back at her sister before entering. “Make sure you get a good shot of me working,” she said. If Quinn insisted on tagging along, she might as well be useful. Nothing wrong with getting a shot of her up on the Butterfly Lake Lodge social media pages, in case a prospective employer happened to look her up. She already had some hashtags in mind:#LifelongLearning,#KnowledgeableHost.

#HireMePlease, she thought.

“On it,” said Quinn. “And you’re looking extra cute today. Did someone spend time getting ready for class?”

“Quinn,” Celeste warned. Maybe she’d taken a few minutes to add some waves to her hair with her curling iron and picked the white bodysuit she knew hugged her waist nicely with jeans. So what? She didn’t get out much, so what was wrong with making an effort when she did? “Let’s go.”

All five other class members had already arrived and were seated with their materials laid out in front of them. Jack was perched on a desk, wearing a black sweater and army-green khakis, a pen tucked behind his ear and a smile on his face. As his gaze roamed over her, she couldn’t help but revel in the sensation of his eyes tracing the contours of her outfit. He might’ve been into women who wore fleece and Gore-Tex, but he was only a man.

“She’s back,” said the man with the gray ponytail. Bryant, she remembered. “And she brought a friend!”

“Couldn’t miss Jackpine week,” Celeste said. “This is my sister, Quinn. She’s here to take some photos.”

“Great to see you back,” Bryant said. “Glad you changed your mind.”

The man beside him—George, was it?—held out his fist to bump against hers. Of all the places she’d never thought she’d find herself.

“I thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea to acquaint myself with something that brings in a lot of tourism to the area.” With Jack’s gaze lingering on her, Celeste felt a tinge of nervousness tingling down her spine yet a newfound confidence rising within her. She stood up a bit straighter. “I know a lot of the local hotels cater to fishing trips. And it’s always nice to be able to make conversation with guests about their interests.”

“So does this mean that we’re going to get you out on the river?” Jack said. His lips were turned up in a teasing smile. “Experiential learning at its best.”

“Don’t push it,” Celeste said, even though the idea held the slightest bit more appeal if it involved spending more time with Jack.

“All right, well. Glad to have you back.”

Quinn gave him a wave and approached the desks, which once again were set up with a variety of different feathers and string.

“Cool,” Quinn said and immediately started snapping pictures.

Jack started the lesson and took them through another fly, a miniature blue feature tied with a yellow string on a black hook and a small piece of red fabric.

“We’re actually going to make a Skirrow’s Fancy today,” Jack said, holding up his exemplar for the group to see. “We use seal’s fur for this one. Gives it a nice buggy look but doesn’t weigh it down.”

“Seal’s fur? How on earth did people figure out that this would attract fish?” Celeste asked.

“Trial and error, likely,” said Jack. “Years and years of fishers making educated guesses. And it seems an unlucky trout took the bait on this one.”

“It’s a good lesson: Beware of things that attract you. They could also kill you.”

---