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Two fishing rods rested along the side, along with a tackle box and a cooler packed with ice, bottled water, and sodas. A picnic basket held their lunch consisting of simple beef-and-mustard sandwiches.
Beside it, concealed beneath a picnic blanket, sat a waterproof backpack with her gear. They were exactly what they looked like — two people out early, chasing fish.
He voiced the question that had been nagging at him. “What put you on to Voss?”
She gave him a long, considering look. And sighed. “I met him. Months ago. At the Iron Horse.”
Her reluctance only sharpened his suspicion. “Did you…?” He couldn’t get the word out because he really didn’t want to know the answer. Felicity with another man made him irrationally angry.
“Did I fuck him?”
Her glib question hit like a jab, and he gritted his teeth, saying nothing.
She shook her head. “I fucked you instead.”
That brought him up short. “The married man.” It wasn’t a question. Just something that had stuck with him from that night in the hallway. He still hadn’t resumed work on the staircase.
“Yeah.”
But she still hadn’t answered his question. What about Voss made him important enough to investigate? He steered around a shallow bank, then, once in deeper water, asked, “And this little fishing expedition … payback? Seems a bit elaborate.”
Her laugh was incredulous. “Not payback. I’m not that much of a bitch, despite popular opinion.” She huffed. “As you know, I don’t like strangers in town. But I couldn’t find any intel on him, so I kept him on my board.”
She glanced at the bank slipping past. “And then … the other night at Fitzpatrick’s…” Her voice lifted slightly. “I picked him up on the security feed.” Her lips pressed together. “Seeing Voss there … in town … my trouble radar pinged.” She shrugged. “And here we are.”
“Here we are,” he echoed.
Silence settled between them.
“I should thank the man.”
“For?”
“Rejecting you. I enjoyed that fuck.”
That got him another burst of laughter. “Ugh. You’re so maddening.”
“I do what I can.” He slowed, steering to port to allow another boat to pass, exchanging greetings the way strangers on the water do.
“And I don’t think you’re a bitch. Not at all. Just … misunderstood.”
She snorted. “Thanks.” A pause. “I think.”
He debated his next comment, but the segue was too natural to ignore. “But Bella?” He glanced at her. “She definitely thinks you’re a bitch.”
She blew out a long breath. “I know. From the moment I walked into Books ’n Bakes, she’s had it in for me.”
“I know why,” he murmured, keeping his gaze on her as he eased off the throttle.
She met his stare. “Tell me.”
He cut the engine, letting the little boat drift, his full attention settling on her. “You remind her of her sister-in-law. Beau’s ex.”
Felicity went still. Completely still. Color leached from her skin.
She tipped her face to the sky, freckles standing stark against the pallor. “Shit.”
Then she shut down.
