Page 28 of Kissing Her Rescuer

He didn't need to treat her like a princess. That wasn't her nickname any longer.

“Here, let me change your worm—”

“I can do it,” she snapped.

He straightened from reaching to the cooler where they'd stored the worms, his eyes shaded by his baseball hat. Oh, so that caught his attention. Everyone else in town probably did what Dewey said.

“In fact, let me change to a spinnerbait and walk down to the bank to fish for bass since the catfish aren't biting.” She cocked her head to the side, waiting for him to say something.

He blinked and then gave her a half-smile that made him look like a cocky teenage boy again. “Alright.” He motioned to the tackle box. “Have at it.” He reached in the cooler and pulled out a beer. “Let me know if you want any help.”

He could help by treating her the way he'd treated her the time he'd visited her in Alabama. There hadn't been anything reserved in his kiss before. It'd been filled with passion and mixed with the desperation they'd both felt for the situation. They'd come together blazing hot. He hadn't treated her like she might break then. She was even stronger now.

She sat down on the dock, pulling out his knife and plastic box with the various lures. And, because it was pretty, she picked a neon pink and yellow funky looking thing to tie onto her line.

“You might do better with that—”

With a quick cut of her eyes in his direction, his words stopped short. He grinned again and held up his hands, and she continued. It only took two tries to remember how to tie the knot in the fishing line. At least he hadn't jumped in to rescue her after the first failed attempt.

Survival had required her to rely on only herself. And Dewey, trying to do everything for her, made standing outdoors feel claustrophobic.

Wiggling her toes in the tight boots she'd borrowed from Becky, she grabbed herself a beer, her pole, and walked down to the bank on the far edge of Lake Seminole. She’d grown up as a tag-a-long, fishing with Cameron ever since they trusted her not to hook one of them by accident. Learning which lures to use had never appealed to her. Fishing for her was therapeutic. Either the fish would bite, or they wouldn't. She didn’t really care why.

Most of her irritability fell away as she stepped into the shade of the trees, the air cooling by almost ten degrees. Dewey's quiet steps followed behind her. She stopped in a shady spot, the grass and moss were thick and green along the bank. She swatted away a few gnats buzzing her ears.

He remained a few steps behind her, working his own fishing pole with whatever lure he'd suggested she try. After he'd caught two fish to her zero, tossing them back in, she gave up pretending. Fishing wasn't at the top of her list of things to do on a date with Dewey. Fishing had its place in life. Just like church on Sunday. And the money spent on a date wasn't an issue. Based on his trailer, he didn't have much. No. She wanted Dewey to see her, want her, the way he'd done before.

She set her pole down.

He took a step toward her but then paused. His lips pressed together, and he cast out his line again. The man learned quick. Helping her with every little thing only led to trouble.

She stepped beside him, pretending to watch his line, the lure bouncing like a little fake frog along the top of the grass.

“I think I told you that I'm in charge of Daddy's wedding decorations.”

“Yeah,” he said, his Southern accent dragging out the word. “You did. How's that coming'?”

“It's not.” He glanced her way. She sighed. “I really suck at decorating.”

He cast his line again. “As you can see from my amazing trailer, I'm a natural-born decorator.”

“Right,” she said, smiling and moving a little closer. The same as fishing. Draw him in. “Even I know that two completely different plaid patterns don't go together.”

“You haven't even sat on that sofa. And that recliner is amazing. The colors don’t change the function.”

She shifted her weight, bringing their bodies so close they'd touch if either one of them moved an inch. “I don't think that aesthetic will work for the wedding. Bachelor pad isn't the theme she wanted.” She bit her lip. He tracked the movement, the amusement in his eyes lessening. “I think I might need some help.”

“From me?”

“Everyone else is doing something for the wedding. Addie offered to create the invitations on the computer and then address all of them. Becky's in charge of the cake and then helping Lexi prepare the food. Juliana can't do anything so far away in England.”

“What about Eva? She loves things like that.” The small amount of panic in his voice amused her.

“Your sister is in Savannah. Besides, it's not her family. I could never ask her to take on something this big.”

“Hudson? Cameron? Trevor?”

She barked out a laugh. “Addie’s brother? Great. So now you're ready to pawn me off on some other man.”

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