Instead, I inhale deeply and stare back at her, gentling my voice before I reply. “I think you’re silly for thinking that taking up extreme sports is going to make you look better to some guy. Especially since he sounds like an asshole.”
Her eyes flare. “You don’t even know him.”
“I know his type,” I grind out and jig my pole in frustration. “And the fact he thinks you need to change to be enough for him confirms my assessment. He’s blind because…well, hell…you’re clearly fucking awesome.”
As soon as my words are out, a heavy silence falls over us in the tent. I look over and see a faint puff of white air in front of Maggie’s lips as she exhales a breath and stares back at me with an intensity that’s hard to look away from.
Her eyes dart down to my lips. Slowly sliding my tongue across them, I do everything I can not to think of the last time we were here together. Of our bodies pressed together. Our tongues massaging each other and wishing they were licking something much more fleshy than just another fucking tongue.
I shouldn’t be thinking about this, though. Because if I think too hard, I’ll want it again. And this is something I shouldn’t want.
My gaze moves from her lips to her eyes, flashing back and forth, conflicted with which one I want to stare at more because both of them are making the crotch of my pants feel really fucking tight.
Damnit all to hell. Now I’m the one wanting to strip off my snowsuit because this potent energy pulsing between us is smothering my poor ball sack. And my dick wants to be suffocated by something else entirely.
I make a small move toward her, and she gasps, her eyes flying wide. “Are you getting a bite?” she exclaims, her voice all froggy and weird sounding.
My gaze snaps to my pole, then I look at the monitor and see nothing but an empty lake below. “There’s nothing there,” I reply. Settling back on my stool, I stare for a moment longer, expecting to see something show up.
She clears her throat. “Oh, sorry…I swore I saw your line move.”
Depends on which line she’s referring to. Because if it’s the thick one between my legs, then there was definite movement. “Yeah, maybe it’ll come back,” I state with a hopefulness to my tone that I can’t hide.
Goddamnit, I want to fuck this girl. I want to fuck her right here and right now. But she just told me she’s trying to win her ex back so that should be a deal breaker. That should have me running in the opposite direction because I don’t do girls with baggage. That’s a hard pass for me, normally. But for some ridiculous reason, her innocent idealism keeps drawing me back to her.
I clear my throat and ask the first thing that pops into my head. “So what kind of crazy stuff did you want to try to get your ex back?” I turn to look at her with a forced smile. “’Cuz I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but ice fishing is not what I would call super adventurous.”
“I know,” she grumbles, and her eyes light up as she points at the monitor as that school of fish reappear. “It was just the first thing I tried, and I have to admit, I kind of like it.”
I smile at that because it makes the fact that I took a chance by inviting her out here all the more worth it.
She wiggles her pole a little. “But I’m going to try something more daring because, deep down, I think Sterling might be right,” she adds, tucking her hair behind her ears. “My whole life has been safe and easy. I make plans, and I stick to them. I don’t handle change very well. So now is the perfect time for me to break some of my own rules.”
A grin splits my face as I check out this stunning, very girlie chick sitting on a hard stool in the middle of a frozen lake. “Breaking some rules can be fun,” I reply and drag a deep, cleansing breath in as I wish she’d break some rules with me right now. I clear my throat harshly, struggling to get my mind out of the gutter. “And as much as it pains me to say this, I actually think it’s pretty cool that you’re going to such lengths for a guy. Not many girls would bother.”
At that moment, she gets a bite, and without any guidance from me, she sets the hook like a fucking pro. “I got one!” she squeals and begins cranking her reel. “I got it on my own this time!”
I smile and drop down onto my knees while feeling really weirded out that this is turning me on so much. I steady my thoughts, and say, “Let’s see if you can reel it in on your own, too.”
“Okay,” she beams, sticking her tongue out as she concentrates.
I watch her with great fascination because even though everything she said sounded like everything I’d run the fuck away from, something about her keeps reeling me back in.
Little Fish…Big Problem
“Happy Birthday!” my mom cheers as my three sisters finish singing to me in perfect harmony.
I lean over to blow out the candles with my eight-year-old niece, Kinsley, propped on one knee, and my six-year-old nephew, Zion, propped on the other. They both stare at me with sad puppy dog eyes.
“You guys don’t think I can blow all these candles out myself, do you?” I waggle my brows and watch their faces transform into pure joy as they lean in and basically spit all over my birthday cake.
It’ll still taste delicious.
Sliding off my lap, they rush over to my mom when she drags the cake to where she’s sitting beside me. “Who wants Uncle Sammy’s face?”
“Me, Grandma!” Kinsley squeals. Making a fist around her plastic fork, she growls, “I want to murder Sammy’s face!”
Everyone’s smile falls as we stare at her in disturbed horror. I look at my oldest sister, Tracey, who’s horrified eyes are locked on her daughter. “Kinsley, what did Mommy say about murder?”
“Come again?” I croak, rapidly blinking up at her from where she stands on the other side of me.
Kinsley’s voice sounds sad. “Don’t repeat what you hear in Mommy’s car.”
Tracey laughs awkwardly and looks around at all of us with crazy eyes. “I’m so sorry. She heard a tiny little bit of My Favorite Murder podcast, and now she’s all weird and murdery. We’re working on it.”
My other two sisters, Erin and Holly, do nothing to conceal their looks of judgment as they both balance a toddler on their hips.
“Work harder maybe,” Holly states, grabbing Tracey’s arm seriously.
“Shut up, Holly! Like you’re one to talk. Isaiah fell out of his crib last week.”
“That situation is under control!” she growls back through clenched teeth while clutching her one-year-old tightly to her chest.
“So is mine,” Tracey harrumphs.
“Girls…my darling grandchildren clearly don’t need to watch you two have a catfight, so please, sit down and eat your feelings like normal mothers.”
My three sisters all sullenly take their seats as my mom dishes everyone a giant piece of white sheet cake. Between my three older sisters, I’m the proud uncle to three nephews and, apparently, one murder-loving niece. Holly’s having her second child any day now to even the playing field a little for the girls.
My sisters all look just like my mom with fair skin, freckles, and shades of auburn hair. However, the truth is, my mom looks more like their oldest sister than their mother because the woman hasn’t aged a day since I was old enough to notice.
Debrah O’Connor is an RN at the hospital in Boulder and a favorite with all her patients. She works way too fucking hard, but you can’t stop her. She’ll work a twelve-hour shift, bake a birthday cake, and still offer to babysit all her grandkids without hesitation. She is like the Energizer Bunny.
And even though she doesn’t have a single gray strand in her short, auburn hair, I know working so hard wears on her. Occasionally, when she thinks no one is looking, I see her wincing when she’s crawling on the floor with her grandkids. She’s only sixty-years-old, but all those years of working on the hospital floors have taken a toll. I can tell her she’s pushing herself too hard, and I frequently ride her ass about retiring but she just shushes me and says she has a plan and she can’t afford to quit now.
It kills me because I want to fix it for her. She deserves that.