Page 36 of Cowboy Seeks Husband
Roan opened his mouth, but John leaned forward and cut him off. “If you don’t mind, that’s a conversation I’d like to catch outside of the car.”
They pulled intoa patch of…mud. That was pretty much all Roan could think of to describe it. Dirt with a few trees and a murky-mirror river meandering around it. The pervasive green of the landscape was more sparse here but picked up where the river met a thatch of forest.
“Pretty,” Roan murmured dubiously, peering out of the window. He twisted in his seat to ask John if the nurses really did have antivenom when he found Walker watching him. The gaze was powerful. Roan felt it penetrate into him like the sun, deep into his flesh. With a slow whoosh, he let out the breath he’d taken to ask his question.
“You really think so?” Walker whispered.
Roan smiled. “Yeah. I do.” Maybe he wasn’t talking about the land, though. Maybe he was talking about the rugged beauty of Walker’s face and the cut of his jaw. Pretty meant a lot of things, and Walker could be part of that definition for sure.
Walker gave a firm nod toward the water. “This is the best spot for noodling in the area because the catfish don’t live too deep.”
Roan opened his mouth. Closed it, then said, “Catfish?”
Walker grinned, his teeth white like a flash of lightning. “Yes.”
“So…we’re fishing.” Roan’s shoulders dropped a little in relief. He used to go fishing with his neighbor Lindsay’s ex-husband Roger. And while he was sure the fish here would be different, he wasn’t completely incompetent. He strained his neck to see over Walker’s side of the pickup. “Where’s the boat?” He frowned. “And the gear? I didn’t see any in the back of your truck. And aren’t catfish, like, huge?” Walker’s grin just kept on growing. “I’m going to regret feeling relieved, aren’t I?”
“Do you want to tell him John?” Walker asked. “Or should I?”
“I wouldn’t mind getting that on camera outside too, actually. Maybe with the river in the background.” John nudged the sound guy beside him and they climbed out of the car.
“Is this some ancient hazing ritual or something?” Roan asked.
Walker stopped looking like the cat who got the canary. Or the catfish, rather. “No, it’s a tradition actually. The Native Americans were the first to do it, but during the Great Depression a lot more ranchers and other folks began noodling, because it brought free food to the table. It’s the kind of thing that gets passed on from father to son around here.”
“Oh.” Now Roan felt kind of bad for sounding so pissy. “Is your dad still around?” Roan blurted, and God why. Why?
Walker’s eyes searched his face. “Yes,” he said slowly. “He lives in the farmhouse with my step-mom and me. He’s retired but still helps out. What about your dad?”
Roan shook his head but didn’t say anything more. Another car pulled up behind them. Roan hadn’t even noticed they’d been followed by more crew. Though he should have guessed they would be.
“We’re set up, guys,” John called out from near the winding water. “Ready when you are.”
Roan reached for his door handle but Walker stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Really, if you don’t want to do this—”
“I’m fine,” Roan said. His overalls made a funnypfftsound as he slid off the leather seat. They already stuck to his skin like a layer of clingfilm. He hugged his arms around himself and walked over to where the crew waited. “Here okay?” he asked.
“Perfect,” John said. Roan felt a zing as Walker stepped up behind him, and he shuffled to the side a little, unnerved by his body’s response to the man. “And we’re rolling.”
“So, noodling.” Walker flashed him another breathtaking smile and began to unbutton his shirt.
Roan blinked. Was he hallucinating now? The sun was hot, but, God, he wasn’t having heat stroke already, was he? “Why…are you taking your clothes off?”
“Because we’re going into the water to catch catfish.” His grin turned rakish. A flash of heat went through Roan’s body in response. “With our bare hands.”
Roan gaped and did a comedic double take. “Say what now?” He glanced out toward the murky, dark water. It had an oily layer on it. “We’re actually going in there?”
“Yep.” Walker couldn’t have sounded more excited, and while that was cute as hell, it was also terrifying. “Catfish burrow into holes, and when we stick our hand in a hole, the catfish will bite it.” Walker pantomimed the whole thing. It was the most animated Roan had ever seen him. “Then we’ll hook our fingers into one of its gills and yank it out.”
Roan had no words. None. His jaw dropped open again but there were so many bugs around he snapped it shut pretty fast to keep from swallowing a mouthful.
“Say something Roan,” John called out.
“Do they have teeth?” Roan asked, his voice high and reedy.
Walker’s eyes glinted with excitement. “They have bony bits in their mouth that can scrape a little bit, but no real teeth.”
Roan nodded and swallowed hard. Okay. That didn’t make the idea of sticking his hand in aliving fish’s mouthany more appealing. “So people don’t like, lose their hands or anything?”
