Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Yes. Just don’t go too far. It’s going to get dark soon.”
“I just want to… yeah, I won’t go where I can’t see you.” The words are barely out of my mouth before I jump out of the truck and snap pictures as I walk through the field of wildflowers. Archer’s deep chuckle trails behind me.
When I reach the opposite side of the clearing, there’s a small wall of rocks. It’s perfect to climb up on and get a higher vantage point. I get lost in my love of photography. I take shot after shot. I even zoom in on Archer, who’s sitting in a chair on the river bank with his fishing pole in his hand.
I don’t know that I’ve ever had a man think about my passion. He didn’t really want to go fishing. I know him well enough to know that. He knew I would fall in love with this place. I should be worried that he’s making this “arrangement” of ours about more than just sex, but I can’t be. Not right now. I love that he did this for me, and I have the sudden urge to show him. The sun is starting to set, and I snap a few more pictures. The lighting is incredible as the sun sets over the lake. These are shots that I’m certain I’m going to want to blow up and hang on my wall.
I’m in Willow River for several more months. I can make my rental more my own until then. I’m not much to brag about, but I’m certain these shots deserve to be displayed. Maybe I’ll give Archer a copy too.
I make my way to where he’s sitting on the bank. He looks up when he hears me. He’s smiling. “Good time?” he asks.
“Yeah, Popeye.” My voice is thick from the emotions welling up inside me. “Good time,” I manage to reply.
“That’s yours.” He nods toward the empty chair. “You ready to fish?”
“Sure. I just need to get my camera bag.”
“Here.” He reaches beside him and grabs it from the top of the cooler. “I didn’t want to set it on the ground, and I assumed you’d want it when you got back.”
“Thank you.”
He nods. “Now, are you willing to bait your own hook?”
“What exactly does that consist of?” I ask.
“Putting a worm on the hook.”
I shrug. “I’ll try it. No promises.” He looks surprised but stands and grabs the extra pole and shows me what I need to do. “Ewww,” I say, as I run the hook through the worm like he instructs. “That’s not pleasant,” I tell him. “And the poor little worm.”
“You did great, Scar.” He moves to stand behind me. “Okay, this is how you cast.” He places his hands over mine, and we pretend to cast a few times so I can get the hang of the motion. Then he shows me what to do, and together we cast my line.
“Now what?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at him.
“Now we wait.” He moves to take his seat, and I do the same in the one he brought for me.
“This is so peaceful.”
“Yeah.”
The silence ebbs between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. In fact, it’s the most relaxed I’ve felt in years.
“You didn’t really want to go fishing, did you?”
He turns to look at me and studies me for a few heartbeats. “I like fishing. It’s been a while, but I just wanted to spend time with you. I thought you might like this place.” He motions toward the field of flowers behind us.
“You were right.” I turn my gaze back to the river, which really looks more like a really large lake. “The company’s not so bad either,” I confess.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Archer
The sun set about thirty minutes ago, bathing us in darkness, with nothing but the moon and the stars to light our way. I hate that I can no longer see her beautiful green eyes, but that’s okay. I know what they look like. I don’t think I’ll ever forget their emerald-green color.
“I thought the point of fishing was to actually catch the fish?” Scarlett asks.
I chuckle. “Somedays you have better luck than others.”
“At least it’s a nice night.”
I turn to watch as she tilts her head back, peering up at the stars.
“Yeah,” I agree.
“Is the water warm?” she asks.
“Yeah. This time of year it is.”
“Are we allowed to swim in it?”
“Some do. Are you a good swimmer?” No way am I letting her go in at night if she’s not, and she has to stay close to the shore. What am I saying? No, we’re not going swimming tonight. I can’t risk something happening to her.
“We should do it.”
“Not tonight.”
“What? Why?”
“We don’t have suits.” Not that that really matters. That’s a better excuse than me admitting that I’m stressed about something happening to her in the dark water.