Page 12 of Stick Break
A chuckle rumbles in my throat just as a noise at the door gains my attention. I set my phone down, shade the last day sun from my eyes and spot Big Bear stepping into the back yard.
“Something funny?”
“Just texting my brother.” Shoot, I shouldn’t have said that. We’re not sharing details of our lives, and the less we know the better. Although, something does tell me this man can keep a secret. Heck he’s keeping one of his own. But I plan to help him with that. He just doesn’t have to know it.
“Crispy yet?”
I poke my leg. “Medium well,” I say, and sit up. I might have sunbathed nude, considering I don’t have a bathing suit with me, but no way would I do it with Rip in the house. I am not leaning into the things the media is saying about me.
He jerks his hand out. “Thought I’d go catch us some dinner.”
I angle my head. “You’re going to catch dinner? Should I be worried?”
He laughs. “Nah, did you see those rocks today, when we were doing yoga.”
He waves his hand, pointing to somewhere far in the distance, but all I see is the fence hugging the backyard. “Vaguely.”
“Good fishing spot. I can hook us some summer flounder.”
I sit up a little straighter. Honestly, I’m not build or lounging. Sure the backyard is peaceful and quiet, which is exactly what I thought I need, but I’m already starting to feel like a decorative. A slightly sweaty, restless gnome.
Rip, meanwhile, look like he was born to recline in silence and look handsome doing it. I don’t want to ruin his zen more than I already have.
“Sounds fun,” I respond, like someone pretending to know the difference between a flounder and a door stop.
“Sound fun.”
He turns, about to walk off, then hesitates. “I have an extra rod, if you want to tag along.”
Cue internal confetti cannon.
“I’ve actually never fished before,” I blurt out, already scrambling to my feet like this is a limited-time off and I have to react. My body is hallway to the house when my mouth tries to play it cool. But I don’t want to get in your way.”
Jeez, way to act casual, Charly. Maybe throw in a cartwheel next time.
“Kind of seems like you do,” he teases as I brush past him.
“It’s just that I don’t like to half-ass anything,” I shoot back as I flash him a grin over my shoulder. “Mother always told me if you’re going to do something do it right.”
“So she means, if you’re going to be a nuisance, you’re going to be an award-winning nuisance?
“I don’t do amateur hour, Rip.” His laughter curls around me as I shut the bathroom door. I wash up quickly, buzzing with way too much excitement for what is technically a yucky fish-based activity. Heck, I thought I wanted quiet and calm. Turns out calm is kind of boring without my guitar, and nothing is boring around Big Bear.
After washing up, I step into the living room and find it empty. “Rip?” Did he leave without me. The place isn’t big and there are no spots a man his size can hide. Rustling sounds from outside reach my ears, and I slip on my flip flops and step out front, to find him pulling rods and a toolbox from the small shed. I stand back for a moment, take pleasure in the strength of his big body.
While I’d like to suggest he ice his groin, I’m not supposed to know about his injury. There are ways I can probably get around that though.
I walk up to him. “Need help?” I ask and he jumps. “Sorry.”
“I’m going to have to put a bell on you,” he grumps.
“Or you can just remember that you’re sharing this place with me now. Have you forgotten already?”
He hands me a rod. “No, of course not.”
Okay, why is he saying it like that?
Maybe because you’re really an annoyance, girlfriend.
