Page 135 of Catch
Jett
My bedroom is dark, save for the lamp I turned on.
“Rise and shine, love. Happy Thanksgiving.”
After two months together, I’ve learned that Ethan’s adorably slow to wake up in the morning. His response to mygreeting is to offer me a slumberous gaze and a sulky pout. When he rolls over onto his stomach and buries his face in his pillow, I playfully swat his ass.
Ethan’s head pops up.
“It is now,” he replies, waggling his eyebrows. “Are we having an early morning workout?”
“Not that kind. We’re heading to Angel Lake so I can teach you how to row.”
Ethan’s arm snakes around my waist and pulls me in close. I don’t resist. It’s futile.
“I thought you were gonna teach me to ride a horse.”
“Later. First we take the truck and head for the lake so we can watch the sunrise. Then we come back, eat a mountain of eggs, and tend to the horses.”
“Tend? What does that mean?”
“It means you get to meet them, feed them, and clean out their stalls.”
Ethan hums and kisses my shoulder.
“Will you wear your chaps?”
I burst out laughing. Ever since we started planning this trip, it’s all Ethan talks about.
“I will.”
“Then I will bravely face my fear of large animals and the horrible task of cleaning their mounds of shit.”
“We’ll make a cowboy out of you yet,” I whisper.
I lean down to kiss him, and his responding groan has me questioning whether we’re going to make it to the lake at all.
“Do you have one of those tight rowing outfits for me to wear?”
“Nope.” I chuckle. “Sweats. It’s cold this morning.”
“Damn. I was hoping to tease you in those lycra shorts.”
“It’s not helpful if your teacher is distracted.”
Half an hour later, with coffee mugs in hand, we head for the lake. The drive takes no time at all, and we pull into a spotnear the dock to unload the two-person shell and oars. As the sun inches up over the mountains, the midnight sky turns a beautiful shade of blue, as pale as a robin’s egg. Everything out here always feels bigger and brighter. I glance at the shoreline, dotted with rocky inlets, sandy beaches, and wooden docks that I know so well. I’ve explored every part of this lake, and like a siren, it calls me back again and again.
“Wow, I can see why this place is special to you. It’s beautiful. And so quiet.”
“No motorboats allowed except on weekends.”
We head for the water and as per my instruction, Ethan slips into the shell first, in the seat ahead of me. Since it’s easier to learn how to scull, that is, rowing with two oars, I show him the correct way to make a full stroke.
“Is it wrong that I’m getting turned on by this?” He chuckles.
“Pay attention, love.”
“It’s hard to do that when you’re touching me and talking about stroking.”
