Reckless Hearts by Melody Grace Page B

kid. My dad taught me, and we
would spend the whole afternoon out on the water, sitting there with
our lines floating in the water, and a cooler of soda pop and
homemade sandwiches at our side. Even when I got older, and spent my
weekends out at parties or down at the beach with my girlfriends, I
would still make the time every month for our fishing trips; those
relaxed afternoons just talking and laughing, feeling the lines catch
when we finally got a big one. That’s what made it even worse
when he came clean about his affair. All those afternoons, he’d
been lying to me, chatting about school and his work like nothing was
wrong, when all the while, he’d been living this secret life,
fooling us all.
    Today,
I push away those dark associations. It’s a gorgeous summer
afternoon, the heat mellowed to an easy summer’s breeze, and I
know the water will be cool and placid out on the creek. I’ve
already got my rod and tackle box stashed in the trunk of my car and
a bikini under my clothes, so I park, grab them, and head down the
path to where my old family rowboat is moored to the community dock.
Sawyer is already there, loading up the boat with a cooler and his
line.
    “I
hope you bought snacks,” I call ahead. “And I’m not
talking about carrot sticks this time.”
    My
words fade on the breeze. Sawyer straightens up—but it’s
not Sawyer. Not even close.
    “Don’t
worry.” Will smiles at me, back to his sexy, stubbled self in
jeans and a faded blue T-shirt. “I’ve been warned. Sawyer
said you’d push me out of the boat if I so much as dared to
bring a celery stalk.”
    My
heart beats faster. “Where is he?” I ask, trying to seem
cool.
    “He
sends his apologies, something about a breech birth on a mare,”
Will explains. “He didn’t want to leave you in the lurch,
so he sent me instead. Surprise.” He gives me a crooked grin.
    But
I’m not surprised, not one bit. Seeing Will here, looking so
damn good framed in the hazy afternoon sun, it feels strangely
inevitable. The tension I’ve been carrying all week seems to
melt away, and I suddenly feel lighter, free.
    I’m
happy to see him.
    “Have
you ever fished before?” I ask, moving to dump my things in the
rowboat. Will blinks, like he was expecting me to put up a fight,
then nods.
    “I
know my way around a line,” he says, holding out a hand to help
me off the shore. I step into the boat and settle on one of the
narrow wooden benches, tucking my feet beside the cooler. He climbs
in with me, pausing as the rickety old boat rocks and creaks from his
weight. Will looks uneasy. “Are you sure this thing is
seaworthy?”
    “Hey,”
I protest. “Don’t insult Harold.”
    “Harold?”
he echoes, laughing. “Let me guess, he’s Berta’s
cousin.”
    I
laugh, surprised he remembers my old car’s name. “I’ve
had this boat since I was a kid,” I explain. “My dad got
it for me for my seventh birthday. It’s pretty much
indestructible.”
    “Are
you sure?” Will carefully takes a seat.
    I
stick my tongue out. “Just for that, you can row.”
    Will
jams on a baseball cap, grabs the oars, and pushes off from the
shore, rowing us out into the creek with steady, sure strokes. His
biceps flex with every pull, and I’m glad I’ve got my
shades on to hide my lingering eyes.
    “So
how was your week?” I ask, reaching to trail one hand in the
cool water. “I haven’t seen you around.”
    “Miss
me?” Will asks.
    “Maybe,”
I smile back.
    “Then
my devious plan is working.”
    I
arch an eyebrow. “I thought you said you didn’t play
games.”
    “Games,
no. Plans, yes,” Will corrects me. “Everyone needs a
plan.”
    “So
what’s yours?”
    “Well,
right now it’s to spend the afternoon out on the water with a
beautiful woman. So I think I’m doing great.”
    I
can’t help smiling. “That’s it? Nothing beyond the
next two hours?”
    “I
don’t know.” Will grins back. “If the fish are
biting, we could shoot for