The table has gone quiet. Even Trent has stopped chewing.
Aileen looks at me for a long moment. I can see her wanting to say no. What I can’t figure out iswhy.
"There's a line in my budget for a local operator," she admits slowly. "I'm not sure if they’ll approve your regular guide rate, though. I’ll have to check on that.”
I shrug. “That’s fine.”
"But why would you want to help me?”
And there it is. The whole table is waiting for my answer. Rayna with her hands pressed together like she's praying. Ace grinning like an idiot. Everyone else staring with wide eyes.
I could give her an easy answer. I could say I care about the lake, which is true, and leave it there.
Instead, I tell her the actual truth, because I've watched enough of my friends fall in love to know that there’s no reward without a little risk.
"Because I care about the health of this lake," I say. "And because I'd rather spend those mornings with you than without you."
Somebody—Trent, probably—makes a strangled sound.
Aileen stares at me. Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
"That's—" She stops. Swallows. "You can't justsaythings like that."
"Just did." I pick up my slice. "You in or not, Doc?"
The pause stretches out so long that Ace actually holds his breath.
Then Aileen huffs out a laugh, shaking her head, and something in my chest unlocks.
"Fine," she says. "Five-thirty at the launch. Four mornings a week. Don't be late."
"I'm never late."
"We'll see."
The next morning, I'm at the launch at 5:10, coffee in hand, watching the mist rise off the water, and when her state truck pulls in, I’m positive this was the best idea I’ve ever had in my life.
Twenty years I've had this lake to myself at dawn. But maybe I was just saving a seat in my boat for her all along.
Chapter Four
Aileen
Ikeepwaitingforthe catch.There must be one.
Every man I've ever let close has come with terms and conditions. He wanted me to be less busy, or less driven, or less intelligent. Wanted me to make myself smaller so I'd fit into a life he’d already mapped out. So, I stopped letting anyone get too close. It was easier to just keep moving.
You can't disappoint someone who has no expectations.
But Forrest doesn’t seem like that at all. He finds my career interesting, and we work really well together.
By the end of the first week, he knows my whole workflow. He runs the boat to my sites and cuts the motor before I even ask. He nets my sample fish clean and quick and holds them steady while I measure, his big hands so gentle around them that I catch myself watching instead of writing down numbers. He learns my shorthand, reads tag numbers back without mixing a digit, and sorts fish by species and length class exactly the wayI need them. He already knows every fish in this lake. He is learning how I work.
He calls me Doc. I've started calling him Guide, just to have something to call him back.
And in between the fish, we talk. About how much we love being on the water. About how great it is to be able to work outside for a living. About how neither of us could ever sit at a desk 9 hours a day.
This morning, the forecast promised calm water, but by the time we reach a narrow spawning cove on the west side, the wind is so fierce that whitecaps are pushing through the mouth, and the boat keeps swinging off my sampling line.
