Page 32 of One Whopper of a Love Story

She stepped up beside me. “Thanks. I’ve never been fishing before.”

That wasn’t a surprise.

I baited Layla’s hook, then wrapped my arms around her. “This is how you want to cast the line.”

She leaned back into my chest. “Hmm? Do what? I’m distracted.”

The more time we spent together, the more she flirted and the less she slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. That made me feel like I was winning at this relationship stuff.

“You want me to just teach you how to fish all afternoon?”

Giggling, she tilted her head up to look at me. “Is that an option?”

“Most definitely an option.”

Since meeting her, my ego had grown bigger, but so had my heart. I wasn’t ready to make any rash declarations or hasty plans, but we hadn’t even hit twenty-one days, and I was already thinking about the twenty-one months beyond that.

I showed her how to get her line into the water, noticing that any time her toes neared the edge, she backed up. “Layla, are you afraid of the water?”

She shook her head. “I’m a strong swimmer. If I had a pool, I’d spend all summer in it, near it, or thinking about it.”

It was a bit too chilly to suggest we swim today, but I’d save that thought for later. I’d seen Layla in a mermaid outfit and had no doubt she’d look amazing in a swimsuit.

“What kind of fish do you catch here? Is the water deep?”

“Largemouth bass and catfish mostly. And right here, it’s not too bad, maybe just above your waist.” I let go of her and picked up my rod. “Keep it in the water, and if you feel a tug, pull on it a little. Just real quick.”

We stood on the shore, waiting for the fish to bite and chatting about why I’d become a deputy, what she’d studied in school, and whether chili should have beans in it. It shouldn’t. She didn’t agree, but I forgave her.

When her rod moved, she yanked on it, and before I could drop my rod and wrap my arms around her, whatever she’d nabbed reacted and tugged Layla into the water.

“I’m so sorry.” It surprised me that she’d caught anything, and it was even more of a shocker that she’d caught something big enough to pull her into the water. I waded in and held out my hand to help her up.

Instead of grabbing my hand, Layla wrapped her arms around my neck and shinnied up my body. She wasn’t joking about climbing me like a tree.

But what I’d envisioned when she’d said that before differed from this reality in two ways: Layla’s clothes were soaked with smelly river water and there was a fishing rod in her hand with a flopping catfish at the end of the line.

She seemed almost unaware that she was still holding the rod. The line swung around me, and I batted the fish away from her.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

With her face buried against my shoulder, her head moved back and forth, and her heartrate, which I could feel thumping on my chest, was elevated.

“What’s wrong? Why are you clinging to me like a baby koala?” I held her tighter with one arm while trying to grab the fishing line with the other. “Did you get hurt?”

She pulled her legs up higher and wrapped them around me. “I’m not hurt.”

“Are you cold? I have an extra sweatshirt in the car.” I caught the line and held the fish out to the side so that it didn’t accidentally touch her.

“I don’t want to be in the water because of the fish.” She turned her head to the side, and her eyes widened in fear. “A fish.”

“You caught it. How you hung onto the rod baffles me, but you managed to fall in and still catch a fish.”

She started her climb again and burrowed her face. “I’m terrified of fish.”

When I chuckled, she swatted my chest and slipped ever-so-slightly lower. Then she clutched my neck tighter. I shifted her back up and kept her feet out of the water as best I could. “Afraid of fish? They won’t hurt you. Not too badly. If you get poked with a spine, that hurts.”

“I once watched a show where a bus crashed into the water, and fish ate the people. Ever since then, I’ve had nightmares about fish.” The waver in her voice left no question about her terror, no matter how unreasonable.

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