Page 37 of Off the Hook

Heated memories from the night before rushed back… The look of raw desire in her eyes when she pulled me to the bed. The taste of her, and the sounds of her moans that mixed with the croaks of geckos and tree frogs outside the open window. The passion when she called my name into the night as I took her over the edge. The feeling of rightness as the glow of the moon cut through the darkness and we came together.

I carefully shifted, but despite my efforts to not disturb her, I heard Faith’s breathing change and she started to stir. Her eyes fluttering open sleepily. “Morning,” she murmured, lifting her head to plant a soft kiss on my lips. I started to return the kiss, but then pulled back, eliciting a grunt of disapproval from her. A playful smile tugged at my lips.

“You know what we should do?”

“Uh huh…” she said, moving her hand under the sheet.

I pulled my hips back. If she touched my cock I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. “We should go Tarpon fishing. The bite is best at sunrise.”

“Oh. Really?” She replied, letting the sheet dip just low enough to expose her perfect breasts, before tugging it back up and giving me a cheeky grin.

I groaned, remembering how they had felt, so soft and supple, in my hands last night. “I’m already regretting it, but yes. The palm trees are still. I bet there’s not a ripple on the water. Come on…” I pulled her hand to rouse her to the edge of the bed.

She stared at me, clutching the sheet. “You’re serious, aren't you?”

“Why not? You said you’re off work. I am too. No time like the present to teach you how to fish.”

“You are nothing like most men I’ve ever known… choosing fishing over sex.” She giggled, her blue eyes sparkling. “Give me a minute,” she said, stumbling over the end of the sheet as she disappeared into the bathroom. While I tugged on a pair ofboard shorts and an old led Zeppelin t-shirt, I heard the shower start. Eying her uniform crumpled on the floor, I pulled out a pair of spandex shorts I wore under my wetsuit when spearfishing–the only thing I had small enough for her petite frame. I rummaged through my drawer to find a black wife-beater tank top and hollered through the bathroom door. “I left you some boat clothes on the bed.”

“Oh, good call,” she shouted back. “Thank you!”

I skipped out the kitchen, high on life, and put on a pot of coffee. While Faith showered, I stuffed a couple of bagels, cream cheese, and some fruit in a canvas boat bag.

She emerged, wet curls cascading over her shoulders, wearing my clothes. I wanted to rip them right off her, but I was on a mission.

“We need to hustle to catch the bite.” I waved a travel mug of steaming coffee under her nose. “It’s not authentic cafe con leche, but it’ll do the job. You can drink it on the way to the backcountry.”

“Mmmmm,” She grabbed it and took a big sip. “You know the way to my heart.”

“Good.” I hoped it was true because she just made mine skip a beat. “Hopefully you feel the same way about fishing.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it.”

“I bet you’re good at anything you set your mind to, too.” I planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. “Can’t leave you a fishing virgin. Gotta pop that cherry,” I grinned, passing the bag to her before I stepped on the boat.

With a twist of the key, the outboard came to life. Faith grinned ear to ear as I steered us down the dimly-lit canaltoward the bay. Once we were out of the channel, I pushed the throttle forward and we jetted deeper into the Everglades. We meandered through Mangrove tunnels just as the sun peeked over the horizon.

“This is magical,” Faith said with a dreamy voice as the leafy canopy closed in above us, the tangled roots dipping below the surface of the brackish water.

“Ever been out in the Everglades?” I asked, glancing over at Faith.

“Only an airboat ride I did when I was a kid.” She admitted, eyes wide, taking in the parts of the Florida Bay few people get to see. “It was nothing like this though.”

“You’re in for a treat, then,” I said, dropping a quick kiss on her cheek. “You better put on some sunscreen and a hat. I stuck some in the bag.”

“Oooh! Bagels!” She rummaged around, plopping a faded red hat with an embroidered chili pepper on her head before unpacking our picnic. “You packed breakfast!”

“I did,” I laughed. “I’ve seen my sister when she gets hangry. I wasn’t going to risk it. Not even for fishing!”

She giggled and joined me on the seat again, passing off half a cream cheese smeared bagel and wrapping an arm around my waist. “You’re a smart man, Coulter Rodman.”

“Tell Ava that. When I steal her fries, she says we’re all idiots and will never learn!”

We soon reached a promising spot on the flats, and I cut and raised the engine and grabbed the push pole to navigate us into shallower water. Faith watched, as the boat glided silently across the glassy surface.

“Here we go,” I deployed the power pole off the stern to hold us in place and handed Faith a rod. “Let’s catch some fish!”

There was an unusual familiarity between us considering that we barely knew one another. The occasional splash of a fish, and the calls of bird riding the air currents overhead were as comforting as the small talk we made while I showed her how to cast. We settled into a rhythm, the line zipping as we cast, the lure landing with a plunk. Faith’s form was surprisingly good, her cast smooth and precise. I watched, impressed. “You sure you haven’t fished in years?” I teased.

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