Page 9 of Beck & Coll

Her eyes widened. “I can’t believe you stayed with me.” The surprise was evident in her voice. “You stayed all night with me on this sofa when you probably have a pillow-top mattress on your bed at home?” She gave me a pout. “You must be so sore.”

I wasn’t sore at all. I was in the military. I’d slept on worse things than a sofa. “I’m cool. How are your head and your thigh?”

“My head is fine.” She glanced down at her injury from the prior day. “I think my thigh is good, too.”

“Good. So, you’re cool with getting back on schedule today?”

A look of uncertainty flashed across her face, but she replaced it with a look of acceptance. “I guess so. What’s on the agenda for today, again?”

“Fishing. I’ll be back in forty-five minutes. Be ready.”

My fishing boat wasn’t luxurious, but it was a comfortable thirty-foot vessel with leg room and space for up to four adults.

After driving for a little over a half an hour, we got on the waters of Lake Carson around seven o’clock.

It was a little bit of a late start for me, but I wasn’t too worried about it.

After getting us out to the middle of the lake, I cut the engine then turned to Collins.

“All right, city girl,” I teased, and received a grin from her for my efforts.

“The wilderness experience isn’t about making you try everything.

It’s more about exposing you to everything.

With that being said, there's no way in hell that I’m about to even suggest that you put the bait on the hook. I’ll do that.”

She nodded in relief. “Okay. Good.”

“You also don’t have to take the fish off the hook. If you catch a fish or several fish, I’ll be responsible for removing them from the hook.”

She cheesed at me, showing all thirty-two of her pearly whites. “I love this little rapport we have going, Beckham. It’s like you’ve known me all of my life.”

“Definitely know women like you, Collins.”

We both chuckled.

“After I bait your hook, you’ll throw your line out, and you’ll be responsible for reeling in the fish if you get a bite. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

I turned my back to her while I attached a tiny minnow to the hook. Then I turned to her and questioned, “You ever fished before? I don’t wanna assume that you’re completely unfamiliar.”

She hedged. “I’ve gone fishing before. But I was usually jumping rope or playing with other kids who were forced to go fishing with their dads.”

“What?”

“Um, my dad used to take me fishing… Where I’m from you park your car then walk to where you’re allowed to fish.

We didn’t get in a boat. My dad would sit or stand close to the shore of the lake and drop his line.

Where my dad used to fish was by the park.

So I would play at the park while my dad fished. ”

I was trying to visualize what she described but figured it was one of those things where you had to be there. “So, you’ve never casted?”

“Nope. I’ve never touched a fishing pole.”

I spent a few minutes demonstrating the art of casting, handed her a pair of gloves, then let her have at it. The goal wasn’t for her to be perfect. The goal was for her to have the experience and to be comfortable with it.

“People say that you have to be quiet while you're fishing, but that’s not really true, is it? I mean, where my dad used to fish was by a park. We were loud as hell in the park. He still caught fish.” She paused.

“We didn’t eat them. He wasn’t fishing for like…

dinner. It was more like… sport. Fishing was a hobby.

I don’t think my stepmom would’ve let us eat anything he caught. ”

“Nah, you don’t have to be completely quiet. I’m saying, the water isn’t completely quiet. There’s all types of activity happening down there. But I wouldn’t recommend being obviously loud. What kinds of fish did your dad catch?”

“Uh, I think mostly catfish and carp. And probably alewives. They were always turning up dead on the shore by the hundreds. There must be a gang of those in Lake Michigan. He probably caught those. But like I said, he would throw all the fish back.”

After about an hour of fishing, she and I were both into a good rhythm.

“Fishing after a rainstorm typically gives you better fish activity,” I commented as I felt a pull on my line.

“I can tell. How many fish have you caught over there, sir?”

“About fifteen all together. About ten I can keep.”

“And you eat them?”

“I definitely eat them. My mother cleans them, and either my father or I will fry them or put them on the grill.”

“What are we catching?”

“Mostly trout, which I love. We also have a few bass. What I’m hoping for is some Coho.”

“What type of fish is that?”

“Salmon.”

“I love salmon.” She started then stopped abruptly with the pull on her line. “I think I’ve got another fish.”

I watched her line bob. “I think you do, too. You want me to reel it in?” I had reeled in the three others she’d caught.

“No. I want to try to reel it in myself.”

“Do your thing.”

She planted her feet.

“Keep the tension in your line. Reel. Reel, Collins. Keep your rod tip up.” She was sexy as hell, biting her bottom lip and trying her damnedest to follow my directives as I gave them. “Keep doing the same thing. Keep the fishing rod up and keep the tension. Let me know if you need help.”

I looked on with pride as she worked to reel in her very first fish. She did a great job getting the fish out of the water and over the boat.

“Let me grab it.”

As I went to grab the fish, the damn thing bucked right in her face, causing her to throw the entire pole down and back away from it. While she was backing up, she lost her footing, and once again, ended up on her back.

“Damn, baby.” The words slipped from my mouth before I could catch them.

She didn’t notice. She was too busy trying to get off the floor of the boat.

“The wilderness doesn’t like me,” she mumbled once we were back in my truck headed toward the resort.

After the mishap, she had been quiet. She stared off at the horizon not saying a word while I did a cursory check of her body to make sure there weren’t any serious injuries. After I made sure that she hadn’t sustained any damage that would require immediate or medical attention, I let her make it.

“Don’t get discouraged, mama?—”

She cut me off. “How can I not? This is the second time I’ve fallen doing some type of outdoorsy shit.”

I didn’t mean to laugh, but she caught me off guard with the profanity. “Come on now, Coll. You can’t really blame the fact that you're clumsy as hell on nature.”

“I’m not clumsy.”

Before I could protest with my receipts, she giggled.

“Okay,” she said. “I am a little clumsy.”

“Why are fine ass women always clumsy?” Shit! I thought to myself. My mouth was getting out of control. The first time I said something unprofessional, she’d been too distracted to catch it. This time… there was no way she didn’t hear me. “I’m sorry,” I told her.

At the same she said, “So you're lumping me into the gorgeous but clumsy category? I won’t complain about that.”

I took my eyes off the road for a second to cut them at her. “Come on, girl. You know you’re beautiful.”

“My sisters and my mother are beautiful,” she corrected me. “I’m pretty .”

“That’s your opinion. You can’t tell me who I think is beautiful.”

“You’re right. Sorry. And thank you. I don’t feel very beautiful right now all covered in fish juice, dirt, and whatever else was on the nasty ass floor of the boat.”

I chuckled before teasing her. “You’re still beautiful, even while you smell like fish and bait… and…”

“Stop talking, Beckham.”

I did, but I couldn’t help the fact that I continued to chuckle.

I pulled my pickup to a stop right next to her rented Subaru outside of Sunset Cliff Cottage.

“If you want to take a shower, I’ll swing back by here in an hour or so.

I need to run over to the tour office at the lodge.

When I get back, we can grab a late breakfast at STG Homestead . You have to be starving.”

STG Homestead was the only restaurant on the property that served breakfast. Delicious breakfast fare was served from early in the morning well into the late afternoon.

On the weekend, the restaurant served a brunch that locals flocked to the resort’s property to indulge in.

Reservations were usually booked up to three months out, but I could get us in.

“Okay. I’ll be ready when you get back because I am starving.”

It was cute the way she continued to pout. Her mouth was full. Both the upper and the bottom lip were equally juicy. They looked good as hell poked out.

“Stop pouting.”

“Whatever. I just hope you’re not planning to feed me any of the fish we caught.

I know people do it all of the time, but I’m not ready to eat my catch.

I’ve heard of farm to table, but I can’t eat any fish knowing it just came out of the water.

That’s too damn fresh. I’mma need my fish to be at least three days old before I can eat them. ”

I laughed heartily.

“I’m for real. I don’t want that fish for breakfast or brunch or whatever. I’m feeling like I want to be a vegetarian today. All I want is pancakes. Just pancakes.”

“You sure about that?” I was still laughing. “ STG is known for having the best salmon croquettes in the state.”

She seemed to consider my words. “What type of fish did we catch? What type of fish got in my face? Was that a salmon?”

“That was a trout.”

“Okay then. Maybe I can be open to salmon croquettes.”