Page 5 of Next in Line
“Well, it’s becoming a major issue because now our brains aren’t accessing the deep-thinking folds anymore. Just all this surface-level shit of social media and social, social, social bullshit,” she sputters and then shakes her head to refocus. “It’s more scientific than that, but you get the idea. So I’m trying to access this part of my brain that’s been lost to technology when I look over and see this tiny house on the ice. The inside glows from a light, and smoke drifts out of a little chimney. It looked so peaceful. Like something out of a magazine for deep thinking! And I thought to myself, I need something like that in my life.”
“I can’t argue with that,” I reply because honestly, I get it. There is a peacefulness when you’re sitting in a small ice shack with frigid temperatures all around you. It makes you feel really connected to yourself—which sounds super fucking lame, but damnit, it’s true.
“So yeah, I want to learn how to ice fish,” she says with a serious look. “Or try some outdoorsy nature adventures so that maybe, just maybe, I can find a better version of myself.”
My brow furrows at that last remark. “What makes you think this version isn’t good enough?”
She splays her hands out on the table and shakes her head slowly, her eyes downcast the entire time. “Lots of things. Too many to mention. But the place I’m staying at had a brochure for Marv’s Bait and Tackle, so here I am. I assumed Marv would be more helpful than he was. The pamphlet said Marv was some famous fish whisperer or something, I thought.”
I bite back a laugh. “I don’t think fish whisperer is a thing…but yes, Marv knows his shit. He’s a pro. But you came right at the start of ice fishing season, so everyone wants to talk to Marv this weekend. He’s like the Buddha whose belly everyone wants to rub so we can find the fishing sweet spots.”
“Is that why the bait area is full of waiting assholes?” she asks, glaring around the restaurant.
“They aren’t all assholes,” I correct.
She rolls her eyes. “Present company excluded…seemingly.”
“Seemingly?” I quirk a brow at her.
“Well, I just met you and watched you knock a guy out, so I can’t fully determine if you’re one of them or not.” She eyes me with an amused expression on her face that makes me think she’s joking. Yet somehow, I can’t be fully sure.
I nod slowly and lick my lips. “How about we introduce ourselves before we judge. What’s your name?”
“My friends call me Maggie,” she replies with a shrug.
“Well, Maggie, I’m Sam…and I will prove to you that I’m not a brawling asshole by offering to be your ice fishing guide this afternoon.” I smile, offering my hand to her, and her answering expression lights up her entire face.
“Seriously?” she asks, her voice high and excited as she slides her long, slender fingers into mine.
I nod and swallow slowly. “Seriously. And before you worry about being alone out in the wilderness with me, I’m going to introduce you to Marv so he can vouch for me. He’s known me since I was a kid, and I’ve done some fishing guide work for him on occasion. You can trust his assessment of me.”
She looks at me with an adorable smile that I know I like a little too much. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“Well, if you’re on a journey of self-discovery, you don’t need any roadblocks getting in your way.” I pause and flick my gaze down to her chest. “Oh, and you’d better have a credit card with you because you’ll need to buy some seriously expensive gear today.”
Squealing with excitement, she nods eagerly just as Barb arrives with our burgers. “And you’d better eat all that. You’re going to need sustenance to keep you warm out there.”
She licks her lips and pops a fry into her mouth. “I can’t wait.”
I give her a dubious sort of smile because I’m sure she has no clue what she’s in for…and maybe neither do I.
Ice Breaker
Sam is an interesting and unexpected twist to my day. Oh, who am I kidding? Nothing about this day has been expected. So really, Sam is just par for the course at this point. But if I had to pick a guy out of a lineup to swoop in and save me, I would have never picked this guy.
He’s not hard on the eyes by any means. In fact, he’s got something going for him that I can’t quite put my finger on. His hair isn’t fully red, more dirty blond with reddish streaks throughout. And it’s cut in that messy, “I just rolled out of bed and stuffed my head into a slouchy knit cap” sort of way. His beard is freshly trimmed but long enough to show off its dark auburn tint.
And if I’m looking at him objectively, he clearly has a decent body. When he grabbed me around the waist, I felt how firm he was under those winter layers. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, and his chest and biceps fill out that white thermal shirt really nicely. Something tells me his workouts are more like chopping his own firewood and shoveling his own driveaway than working with a personal trainer and doing squats at a gym.
Yet still, I wouldn’t think he’d be the type to take charge in a crisis, so I’m pleasantly surprised. I wonder how old he is? Judging from those creases on the sides of his eyes and the crinkle between his brows, he’s got a good five years on me. He probably spends all his time outside in the sun. I could see him being a ranch hand for a farm maybe. Like a baseball cap-wearing cowboy.
But as I said, he’s not handsome in the traditional sense. Yet something interesting happens when he smiles. It’s like this shy grin that immediately embarrasses him when it spreads across his face. He even looks away when he does it. It’s kind of sexy.
But it doesn’t matter because he’s definitely not my type. He’s just someone proving to be very helpful at a time when I could use a friend. Because no one can know I’m here. No one can know what’s going on in my life right now. I want things to appear to be business as usual, and this guy could help me pass the time.
Marv gives me the seal of approval for Sam to be my fishing guide so now I’m making the most of this bait shop waiting room meet cute. Not that this is an actual “meet cute.” A meet cute between a couple involves feelings during the act of meeting. An attraction. An instant spark or even love at first sight—at least that’s how the romance novels I’ve read make it seem.
With Sam, it’s just a friendly exchange of services with no spark whatsoever. Of course, objectively when he marches me through the shopping area to look at snowsuits, I do have to appreciate the largeness of his frame and how it just seems sturdy and solid. When he walks across the room, you have the urge to either get the heck out of his way or cling to his arm for the ride. And his eyes have this warm, smiling affection to them as if he’s a man with very few worries. I like that. It feels safe. But thankfully, I just have a platonic appreciation for him being in the right place at the right time.
