Burke stumbled over a backward step, and then another to regain his balance. Once his feet were firm on the ground, he glared into the darkness of the trees and gave the pole an irritated tug.
The branch pulled back.
A stream of curses formed at Burke’s lips as he secured his stance, centered his weight with the pole, and used it to yank it once more. “Come on, you stupid son of…”
Snap!The pole broke in two. The upper half flung under pressure and smacked Burke upside the head. Fishing wire looped around his hands as he struggled against the line, the stupid branch, and the broken pieces of the pole.
Mrs. Walsh could charge him for a whole new set for all he cared. He wanted to wad this thing up, douse it with gasoline, and strike up a match. As it was, he’d have to settle for the trash bin he’d spotted next to the garage.
With the traitorous line and its remains wadded sufficiently in one fist, Burke made his way to the trash bin. He set down the bucket to fling open the lid with one hand and throw in the pole with the other. Slamming the lid closed didn’t offer much release, so Burke reared back and gave the bucket a hard kick for good measure. Unlike the stump, the bucket flung across the yard with a series of satisfying thumps and bumps before it twirled to a stop.
Drops of water had hit Burke’s face in the commotion, probably from the few inches of water the bucket held before he’d kicked it.
“Does this mean you didn’t catch anything?”
The sound of her voice, as pleasant as it was, startled Burke enough that his shoulders jumped up.
“Whoa, you…” He spun around, not wanting to say that she’d scared him, and leveled a look at her beneath the low fray of porch light. Shadows played through her blonde locks and shaded her eyes.
“Hi,” he rasped.
He stepped forward, expecting her to look as entertained by his tantrum as she’d sounded, but the look in her eyes was distant—hard-set on a dilemma outside of the scene before her. She shifted her weight from one foot to the next, tugging at the sleeve of her sweater. “I need to know something,” she said.
Crap. It was the property, wasn’t it? She’d caught wind of the east coast agent who’d met Lenny at the lot.
Burke’s heart thumped out of beat. “Okay,” he encouraged with a nod.
“Did you mean it when you said you’d come to the festival with me this weekend?”
What was this? Burke felt his eyes double in size.
“I mean,” she added, “as my fiancé. Myfakefiancé, of course, but…” She smeared the back of her hand over her forehead.
Burke tipped his head as he stepped closer, noting the flushed appearance of her cheeks. “Are you okay, Justine?”
Her shoulders slumped. She huffed out a breath. “Yes, I’m fine. I just need to know if you’re willing to do it. If not, that’s okay, I just thought—”
“Yes,” he blurted. “Of course I will.”
She nodded then, a quick, curt move while her lips stayed tight. “Thanks.” She spun around then and hurried toward the darkness beyond the drive.
“Wait,” he hollered. “What time do you want me to pick you up?”
She stopped in her tracks. “The booths open at three. So maybe two forty-five?”
Burke nodded. “Alright then. It’s a date.”
Justine nodded too, then darted down the driveway toward her truck.
Burke kept his gaze on the Chevy as she backed out, spun the thing around, and then drove off altogether. The sputter and roar of that engine echoed beneath the trees.
He tucked his hands into his pockets while considering the short exchange. She’d asked him to play the role after all, and boy, was he glad about that. Burke had no trouble playing the part of adoring fiancé to a woman like Justine. It meant she was saving face, something he wanted for her, but it meant something else too. Now, he’d get to spend the entire weekend with her.
He gave the trash bin a passing glance as he rounded the garage. He retrieved the poor bucket, feeling penitent after his outburst, and headed back to his place by the creek. He might not have caught anything tonight, but somehow that didn’t matter any more. Perhaps, in time, he’d manage to catch something much, much better.
* * *
Burke slid on his sunglasses and draped a hand over the wheel as he headed back to Piney Falls. He’d wandered outside of town for some shopping and found just what he’d hoped to find: some casual slacks and jeans, a couple of flannel shirts and—perhaps his favorite—some new mountain boots.
