Page 84 of Someone to Tempt
“You’re my thing,” he clarifies.
Once we get the boat outside into the fresh air, we flip it onto the ground, and Jake returns to the shed for the paddles. It’s not heavy, and we have no trouble carrying it down to the bank. He grabs two rods, a tackle box, and a small cooler from the truck’s bed.
“What else do you have in there?” I ask, standing up on tiptoe like I’m trying to peer over the side. “A small puppy?”
“No puppies. But I have a couple of really nice blankets that will solve your sap problem.”
“What about bear spray?”
He rolls his eyes. “Sweetheart, I’m going to have you screaming so loud, animals three states away will be frightened.”
I open my mouth for a snappy comeback, but all of my brain cells have stopped working, traveled south, and are currently doing their own version of a salsa as visions of Jake’s mouth and tongue on my body, not to mention him pumping inside me, fill my mind.
“You know it’s true,” he says, and walks over to plant a deep kiss on my mouth. “And if you don’t shut down that dreamy look in your eyes, we’re not even going to make it out onto the lake.”
Part of me thinks that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I know he’s not exaggerating his ability to make me scream, but going out on the water means something more. And the fact that he’s bringing me along means I’ve done it. I’ve gotten past some of his defenses. I’m not sure when that started being a goal, but it sure feels like a big one to accomplish.
“We’ll manage the sap later,” I tell him, and he laughs again.
My mom had it all wrong. Fun doesn’t have to mean breaking the rules or flaunting convention or creating chaos. Fun can also be found in the quieter, more meaningful moments. And there’s no one I’d rather spend them with than Jake.
31
IRIS
Jake arranges the rods,tackle box, and cooler in the boat bobbing next to the weather dock. I climb in, gulping when it rocks from side to side.
“It’ll be fine once our weight is evenly distributed,” he reassures me.
Then he grabs the fiberglass edge and holds it steady, panic flashing in his gray-green eyes. “Iris, you can swim, right?”
“If you mean keep my head above water while I doggy paddle like my life depends on it, then yes, I’m a capable swimmer.”
He smiles but studies me more closely. “Not that you’ll need it, but do you want me to run back up to the equipment shed and find an old life jacket for you?”
“A life jacket that’s been used as a cozy home for a family of mice for the past decade? Hard pass.” I give him what I hope looks like a confident grin. “If I need rescuing, I trust you’ve got me.” It’s not just a joke. I need to believe someone’s got me, for once.
“I’ve got you,” he agrees, emotion darkening his gaze. He lowers himself into the boat and leans across the bench seat in the middle to kiss me.
We wobble, I shriek, and Jake laughs, breaking a bit of the tension pulsing between us.
He pushes off, and soon the sound of the oars dipping into the water echoes in the quiet. The bright sun and the gentle swish of the paddles slicing through the surface are almost hypnotic, and my nerves ease.
When we’re in the center of the lake, Jake casts the fishing rod and then hands it to me. “Just hold it steady and wait for the magic to happen.”
“I’m not sure I have the magic.” I grip the rod tightly, and he leans forward to guide my hands with his.
“You’re doing great.”
Much to my amazement, I feel a tug a moment later. “I’ve got one.”
“Time to start reeling,” he says with a laugh at the look of horror I can’t hide.I’ve got one.“Nice and slow.”
When the fish finally breaks the surface, I can’t help my squeal of excitement. “He’s tiny.” I glance at Jake. “How can something that small be so strong?”
“He’s a fighter,” Jake confirms and helps me pull it into the boat. He easily unhooks the brown trout and holds it out to me. “Not bad for your first time, Dixon. Want to do the honors of putting him back?”
He lifts a brow as if he expects me to be squeamish about touching the scaly fish. To be fair, I am, but I’m also caught up in the thrill of it. I take the squirming fish from his hands and try not to grimace. “Have a good life, buddy,” I tell the wiggly creature, then set it in the water. The fish stays frozen on the surface for a few seconds before disappearing from view.
