Page 10 of Next in Line
Sam looks at me with earnest eyes. “It’s your catch, so you have to be the one to release it. Just grab it with two hands here at the tail and submerge it halfway into the water. Careful of his dorsal fin, it’s sharp. Wait until he swims out of your hand, okay? Don’t just drop him back in there if he doesn’t seem ready. He needs to take off on his own.”
Good god. The metaphors in my mind right now are out of control!
I nod slowly and grip the fish’s slimy scales firmly as I immerse his head into the water. It takes a minute—the poor guy must be in shock still—before he begins writhing in my hands, his tail flipping side to side viciously as I hold on for dear life.
I look at Sam for confirmation. When he nods his approval…I let Flipper go. Okay, I know I didn’t catch a dolphin. Let me try again.
I let Nemo go.
Wait, I feel like since I’m a bit lost right now, this fish’s name should actually be Dory.
I let Dory go.
I watch her swim away in the video monitor as if her life depends on it…because let’s face it, it does. She was living her best life, got hooked by some delicious bait that was meant to taste good and make her belly full and satisfied, and then she was completely sideswiped by a right hook.
Dory is my spirit animal.
Adrenaline surges through me as I watch her swim fast and free. Like a magnificent creature that can’t be held back by anything.
I hear Sam say, “That was a nice, strong release. You want them to really take off out of your hand because then you know they’ll survive next time.”
“Next time?” I ask, my high buzzing in my head so loudly, I can barely take in his words.
He shrugs. “The next time they’re caught.”
“Caught again,” I repeat to myself because the life of a fish is both tragic and beautiful. Beautiful because they have moments of complete freedom. Moments when they take the bait and see a new part of the world. And moments when they are released and allowed to live their lives. But tragic because ultimately, they are at the mercy of a fisherman. Someone to catch and release them. Or worse yet, consume them until nothing is left to show for themselves.
I swallow against the growing pit in my belly because I won’t be consumed. I won’t be caught. In this hut, at this moment, I am not a fish. I am not Dory waiting for the bait. I am a fisherwoman, and I take what I want.
What happens next can only be described as an out-of-body experience or a demonic possession of some sort because it is so unlike anything I’ve ever done before. And when I realize my lips are locked on Sam’s, I have no other choice but to embrace it.
Sam grunts when my body rams into his with all the grace of a flailing fish. Or a girl in a fishing hut is maybe a more suitable analogy for this particular scene. Either way, it’s a foreign physical movement for me because I’ve never made the first move on a guy before, especially not in a bulky snowsuit.
Sam’s beard is rough against my mouth as I grab the lapels of his jacket and arch my neck up to flatten my lips to his. When he realizes what’s happening, he goes stiff as a board for a minute, and I fear that he’s going to out fisherman me and release me back into the wild.
But then, his shoulders drop. His hand releases the fishing pole he was in the middle of re-rigging and cinches tightly around my waist as he pulls me up on my knees. Now we’re both kneeling in front of each other, sucking face like a couple of largemouth bass at the bottom of the lake. Our snowsuit-covered bodies are flush against each other, the thick fabric rubbing against all my sensitive nerve-endings that have come alive under this surprising and unexpected embrace. Sam’s tongue parts my lips and sweeps inside with an unwavering confidence he wants me to feel. And man do I feel it. I think I even whimper a little when he yanks off his gloves, and his warm, dry hands cup my face. His palms are rough, but his touch is tender as his thumbs caress my cheekbones.
I may have started this kiss, but he’s completely taken over now, and his deft touch makes me feel like an inexperienced, never-been-kissed teenager. Oh my heck, is this what it’s like to kiss an older man? Someone with experience? Someone who’s rugged and rough around the edges? Who’s clearly not only lived life but also made life his bitch? Because if so, I had no idea what I’d been missing out on by dating college boys. Preppy college boys have nothing on this…fisherman.
But this fisherman is also a complete stranger. A familiar stranger but still a stranger I’m kissing in the middle of nowhere after recently getting dumped. I am an idiot.
As if the ghost that possessed me earlier has left my body, I jerk back, then press my hands flat against his chest to put some space between us. Our breaths are foggy and ragged as I lick my lips that are now raw from his beard and burning in a way that I basically love.
“I really didn’t mean to do that,” I pant, looking up at him with blazing eyes.
He smolders back at me, his gaze holding a wicked promise as he pulls his lower lip into his mouth. “It’s seriously okay.”
I bite back a groan. “No…but like, I really didn’t mean to do that.” I move away from him, extracting my body from his and shaking my head from side to side as I reposition myself on my stool a solid two feet away from him. It suddenly feels horribly hot and cramped in here. Did the heater get turned up?
“I’m not complaining,” Sam replies, his voice still deep with arousal. He moves to his own stool, and I swear I see a bulge in his snow pants.Holy shit! How big is he if he has a bulge showing through thick snow pants?
“Going ice fishing wasn’t a ploy to get a new guy, you know,” I state firmly as I begin tugging at the chest of my snowsuit to get some air to my clammy skin underneath. I’m literally sweating! How can I be sweating on a frozen flipping lake? The heater isn’t that warm. “I’m supposed to be finding myself. There’s more to me than just my hormones. I graduated a semester early and at the top of my class in college, ya know?”
Sam chuckles as I fiddle with the zipper under my chin. “I thought you were interesting the moment I heard your voice today, sparky.”
I look over at him, and he’s staring back at me with complete, unhindered attraction. I swear his green eyes have somehow darkened with desire.Oh my heck, maybe I should dunk my head in the lake because I get a really funny feeling between my legs when he looks at me like that.
“I just don’t want you to judge me,” I mumble because if I was judging myself right now, I’d say I’m a silly girl who can’t handle a simple life change without going off the rails and deciding on a whim to become an ice fisherwoman. “Why is it so hot in here?” I ask, unzipping my snowsuit and trying to stop this hot flash from taking over my body. Gosh, maybe I’m going through “the change” like Sam’s mom! Is that possible at my age?
