“It’ll be nice to get out of the house for something other than rodeo for a change, don’t you think? I know the perfect place.” She cocked her head to the side, so I added, “Trust me, Skip.”
“All right. Are you going to tell me where we’re going, or is this another SGU football field situation?” she teased, standing and stretching her arms over her head.
“Well, it’s definitely not illegal.”
A laugh bubbled out of her. “Good to know.”
While she grabbed Pancho’s leash and a warmer layer, I went out to the garage. A couple fishing poles hung on the wall, and I moved them to the bed of my pickup along with my tackle box and some bait I had in the garage minifridge. At the last minute, I also decided to bring a blanket and some lawn chairs.
By the time I finished loading everything, Sierra was waiting in the living room.
“Got everything?” I asked.
She nodded and called Pancho to her side before following me out to the truck. Once we’d gotten settled with our seatbelts on, she threw me an expectant look. I knew Sierra well enough to know she didn’t like surprises, but I had a feeling this one would be worth the wait.
“I know the last few weeks have been stressful, and I thought we could do something relaxing. Get some fresh air, too, and let Pancho run around.” That was the only explanation I was willing to give her as we drove down the gravel road off my property and toward the Silver Creek.
It was already late afternoon, so it was unlikely there were many people still at the river, but we’d still have a couple hours before the sun set.
Open fields transformed into a wooded area, and I rolled the windows down as we got closer, the fresh, earthy scent of the running river filtering into the cab.
Only a couple of cars were parked at the pullout, and when Pancho realized where we were—even though he’d never been here—his ears perked up. Sierra’s lips twitched like she was holding back a smile when I parked.
The crisp Montana air rushed into my lungs as Ihopped out of the pickup and retrieved the fishing gear and chairs from the back.
“Pick a spot, Skip.” I gestured toward the creek.
Pancho was already in the water, paddling and splashing around.
“So, this was your surprise, huh? Fishing?” Amusement danced in her eyes, but she led the way, setting up camp on the far end of the creek away from the few other people here.
“It’s calming.” I shrugged.
She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, and I tried to look anywhere but her mouth. “I’m not gonna lie, I kinda think fishing is boring, but the fresh air is nice.”
Laughing, I handed her a pole. “You probably just don’t have enough patience for it.” Knowing Sierra and how she was always moving onto the next thing, it made sense. Opening my tackle box, I pulled out a couple lures I knew worked well. “I don’t know, something about the quiet is relaxing. I could sit out here all day, never even catch anything, and still go home feeling refreshed and happy.”
After getting everything set up and bait on the hook, I cast my line and plopped down into my lawn chair. Sierra probably would like fly fishing because it was a bit more active than conventional fishing, where you had to sit and wait for a bite.
Despite her claims that she didn’t like to fish, she sure knew how to cast a line. I didn’t have to help her at all, and soon she was sitting next to me in her chair.
There was a good chance Pancho had already scared all the fish away, but any time spent with Sierra was time well spent, even if it was just two friends sitting at a fishing hole.
“If you get cold, let me know. I brought a blanket, too.”
Her eyes cast downward as she shook her head, but there was a subtle smile on her face. “Always taking care of me, aren’t you, Hayes?”
I wasn’t sure how to respond, but luckily I didn’t have to because by some stroke of luck she had a bite. The tip of her rod bent, and her eyes widened.
“Oh my God! I think I have one!” she squealed as she started to reel in her catch.
A few seconds later, we both burst into laughter because her big bite wasn’t actually a fish but a huge chunk of moss.
I scrubbed my hand through my hair, fighting back laughter. “Damn, I really thought we had one.”
“Just my luck, huh.” Her shoulders shook as she bit her lip, plucking the moss off her hook and tossing it back into the water. “Took my bait, too.”
“So far you’re having better luck than I am,” I pointed out, gesturing to my line that hadn’t had so much as a single bite, from fish or otherwise.
