Page 65 of The Pink House

Before Hannah could reply, her pole jerked, and the force pulled the rod from her hand.

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

The rod was barely free of Hannah’s hand when Charlie clamped his fingers around it.

“Take it,” he ordered, shoving the rod back at her.

She obeyed, but gazed wide-eyed at him, a look of panic on her face. “What do I do?”

“First, don’t let go.” He kept his tone calm, almost matter-of-fact. “We don’t know how good he’s hooked, so you don’t want to jerk and maybe lose him.”

“He’s strong.” Hannah’s fingers tightened around the rod.

Charlie flashed a smile. “Now you’re going to slowly reel him in.”

“I don’t know how to do that.” She stood now, both hands wrapped around the rod.

“That’s what I’m here for.” Pushing to his feet, he got behind her and put his arms around her.

For a second, she shuddered.

“No reason to be scared. You’ve got this.” Despite the feel of her soft body in his arms doing a number on his concentration, Charlie did his best to block out everything except the task at hand. He wasn’t about to have her first fishing expedition end in disaster.

His hands remained over hers as he assessed the pull and the pressure in the line. “It’s time to reel him in.”

She turned her head ever so slightly, her cheek brushing against his stubble as she lifted questioning eyes to his.

“Like this.” He showed her how to slowly reel in the fish. “Don’t let go of the pole while you do it.”

She chuckled. “Letting go would be counterproductive.”

“I can’t wait to see what you hooked.”

“That makes two of us.” She set her jaw, and the rod bowed as she continued to draw the fish closer to shore.

Charlie was beginning to think the fish would never make an appearance when it broke free of the surface. “That’s okay. Keep him there. Let him swim and splash around for a bit.”

With fishing gloves on, he moved forward, ignoring the sucking sound of mud under his boots.

“It’s huge.” Hannah gazed in awe at the fish. “And so pretty.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. Charlie didn’t know many people who’d call a catfish of any variety pretty. Reaching down, he grasped the catfish behind its three front spines.

Hannah craned her neck to see better. “What are you doing?”

“It’s important to hold it behind the spines located on the edges of its dorsal and pectoral fins,” Charlie answered as he made his way to shore with the wiggling fish. “When catfish feel threatened, they lock out their spines. If those spines happened to puncture your hand or your arm, it hurts like hell.”

“Don’t let him hurt you.”

“Under control.” He smiled, keeping his tone reassuring as he stepped onto dry land.

“How big is he?” Hannah asked, her eyes wide and very blue.

After studying the fish more closely, Charlie gave his best guess. “I’d say ten pounds.”

“How big do they get?”

“The last I knew, the state record for blue was eighty-four pounds.”

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