“Have a seat,” he said when they’d reached the end of the wood planks.
She tucked her sundress under her bottom and sat with her legs dangling. Maverick slid off his shoes and socks before taking the spot right beside her. Their hips touched, then their arms. His feet disappeared under the water with a small ripple.
“Mav, what are you doing?” She wiggled in alarm. “Won’t the fish bite your toes?”
“It’s possible, but doubtful, near the shore like this. They usually swim deeper.” He opened the tackle box, handed her a bottle of sunscreen. While she applied lotion to her arms and legs, he removed a couple of jigs and attached them to their lines. He demonstrated with his pole how to throw the line into the lake. It took her a few tries, but she finally did it. She appreciated his patience and confidence in her.
“Now what?” she asked, back straight, excited to be doing this.
“Now we wait. Jig fishing is all about feel and sensitivity, so pay close attention to your pole. It also takes time.”
“How much time?”
He lifted the pair of sunglasses hanging on his shirt collar and put them on. “Sometimes hours.” All calm and cool, did he have any idea how hard it was for her to sit still doing nothing for hours? “If a fish bites, it feels like a light thump traveling up the line.”
“So fishing is kind of boring.”
“Says you. A lot of people find it just the opposite and enjoy the peacefulness.”
“I can’t figure out if you brought me here to shut me up or get me to talk.” She rested her head on his shoulder.
“How about whichever you want.”
“Okay, tell me the one thing no one else knows about you and then we can meditate on our fishing poles.”
“I’m hoping to brand and market my chemical-free pesticide.”
She lifted away so she could look at him. “Really? That’s great.”
“I’m meeting with a potential investor in a couple of weeks.”
“Won’t you be traveling then?”
“This investor is in Italy. He’s a winemaker. Nicole and I met him and his wife when we were there, and we became friends.”
She couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but she’d gotten pretty good at reading him, and he appeared both nervous and hopeful about the prospect.
“You haven’t told your family?”
“No. I don’t want anyone to get their hopes up.”
“Yours are, I can tell.”
His lips turned slightly upward. “I know I have a good product and a sound proposal. But the pesticide’s been tested only here, and there was a health issue with some of the trees the other day. I cleared it up, but soil variance, air temperature, humidity, precipitation, and different types of pests all play a factor.”
“You’ve got this.” She put her hand on his knee. “You were the only person to get a better grade than me in chemistry, and you wouldn’t even have approached this investor if you weren’t confident in its value and success rate. Plus, I’ve seen your trees. They looked perfect to me.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I appreciate it.” He covered her hand with his, laced their fingers.
“Do you see making the product here or in Italy?”
“Here.”
“Well, I hope it works out. You’ll have to let me know. Send me a postcard from Italy with the good news.” She dropped her gaze to their hands.
“I’ll do that.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. Was that a promise? To keep his word on the postcard? She hoped so, because she suddenly realized that the last thing she wanted was this trip to be the last time she saw or talked to him.
Eleven months ago…
Dear Nicole,
Today was a good day. Hunter and I mended a few fences, mucked out the stables, and then had a beer with lunch while I listened to him talk. The poor guy still has a thing for Callie, and she is oblivious to it. Then I crashed on the couch and played fetch with Barley. She’s been sneaking off onto the neighbor’s ranch more and more lately, and Bear, the neighbor’s dog, has been over here. Then there’s George, who I’m pretty sure thinks he’s a dog. A big dog with no bark. Ha.
Jenna started first grade and loves it. She’s by far the smartest and funniest six-year-old there is. She insists on wearing her yellow rain boots everywhere and has already informed us she wants to be The Mandalorian for Halloween. Cole and Bethany are going out of town for a long weekend and she’s asked to stay with me. She has a list of things for us to do together, including playing veterinarian. It’s her favorite game for the two of us. And while it used to make me uncomfortable, it doesn’t anymore. Sometimes I even think about going back to vet school. Time is definitely healing, at least that’s what I tell myself.
Miss you,
Maverick
Chapter Twenty
One day until the wedding
“Have you been down to the beach yet?” Maverick asked, not quite ready to leave Kennedy’s side. Fishing had lasted approximately one hour before she’d declared the “fish are not jiggy with it today” and they—Kennedy and him, not the fish—should find a better use for their time. He didn’t care what they did, as long as they were together, so standing in front of the inn now, the pathway to the beach called his name.
“I haven’t. Want to walk down there?”
“You read my mind.”
“Uncle Mav! Uncle Mav!”
Maverick turned just in time to catch Jenna as she launched herself at him. She wrapped her little legs around his waist and squeezed his cheeks with her hands. “Can you get me out of here?” she asked.
If Jenna weren’t smooshing his face, he’d smile. “What’s up?” he asked, but it sounded more like “Wasshhup” with her crushing his cheeks.
She released her hold. “Uncle Hunt wants me to pick up poop and I don’t wanna.”
Kennedy covered her mouth with her hand, finding his niece as entertaining and wonderful as he did, he suspected.
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?”
“Nooo.” She shook her head, her pigtails whipping around her face.
“Let’s go put our feet in the ocean, then,” he said, taking quick strides in order to evade his brother.
“Yay!” Jenna said, crawling from his front onto his back for a piggyback ride.