In the deafening silence, blood whooshes in my ears, my gaze locked on her parted lips. Jackie sways closer, her eyes gleaming.
“Show me the degree first, and we can talk.” She winks and breezes out the door.
“Don’t bet against the boy genius, Jackie,” I call after her with a laugh.
Could I apply to a med school’s accelerated program to make her eat her words and pay up? Probably. But that dream is long buried. And I’m more than happy meddling with lawmaking.
Jackie role-playing in my bedroom, though? That’s a fantasy I’ll never let go.
“Remind me again why I let you talk me into this?” Jackie asks, crinkling her nose, as she gingerly steps down the chipped stairs leading to the sandy bank, clinging to the metal railing.
Behind her, Patrick’s lips are pressed in a line to the point of turning white. Not that the sunburned lines, camouflage shorts, and sleeve-ripped-plaid-shirt combo help him look too professional either.
Drops of sweat slide under my T-shirt in the sticky mid-morning humidity. Luckily, a faint stir of air wafts under the trees scattered along the riverbank, but I can’t imagine Jackie’stoo thrilled about stepping through sun-warmed grass as I lead her to the spot where the river narrows.
“You have only yourself to blame,” I say. “You can’t turn down a dare.”
“Being confident isn’t a bad thing.”
“Sure isn’t. Doesn’t mean you’ll be perfect at everything, though.”
Her chin tilts high. “We’ll see about that.”
“Fishing is supposed to be a way to get your mind off things. Nobody’s grading you.”
We hike upriver, past abandoned campfire pits, going around tree trunks, until I point to the spot my dad took me fishing all the time.
Through a break in the lush green bank, the familiar rush of water greets us before stepping onto the secluded beach peppered with smooth stones. Green water foams and swirls around the rocks, sunlight glinting off the surface. It’s been years since I’ve been here.
Jackie stops at the worn edge of the bank.
“The currents are strong out there. Don’t go in too far and you’ll be fine.”
“Contrary to popular opinion, I don’t have a death wish.” I know she means the endless arguments she has with Carter about going back to New York. She chooses a broad boulder near the shore. “That looks stable enough. I don’t want to get wet. I’ll fish from there.”
“God forbid you get wet while fishing.”
“I don’t want to ruin my clothes. Sue me.” She climbs the short step onto the mostly flat rock, framed by the rolling hills in the background. Looking like a damn vision with her shapely legs in jean shorts and rubber boots.
“I’m going to wait for this to be over right there.” Patrick points a stubby finger toward one of the trees leaning overthe water, with most of its roots exposed. “More of a golf guy myself.” Then he glowers at me. “You goaded her into this, it’s your responsibility.”
Having a front row seat to Miss Perfect admitting defeat is worth the trouble.
“What are we catching?” Jackie plants her hands on her hips.
I suppress a smile, knowing she’s never even held a rod. “Let’s see if you can land some bass.”
She looks at me expectantly, then at the fishing gear bag. “I said I’d catch one, not that I know how to put the rod together.”
“You don’t have to…” I chuckle. “Never mind.” I pull out a smaller spinning rod and the can Dad packed for bait. “Here.”
She looks at the tin like it might bite her. The second she cracks the lid, she jerks back.
“You’re baiting the hook yourself, right?”
Her glare could peel bark.
“Are you giving up?”
