It Takes a Cowboy

Settling in a chair, she tucked her feet beneath her and opened the cover. She found the page—not very far from the beginning—where she’d left off when Scott had plucked the book from her hands and replaced it with the well-written thriller.

Fifteen minutes later she found herself standing in front of Scott’s bookcase studying the titles of the mysteries, thrillers and adventure stories crammed on the shelves. Torn between vague guilt and an unfamiliar sense of defiance, she selected another novel by the author of the thriller Scott had recommended the day before. If she was going to be lazy, she might as well do it as thoroughly as she did everything else, she thought with a wry smile, curling into the chair with the paperback and a cold diet soda.

Scott and Jeffrey found her there a couple of hours later. “Still reading that...no, I see you’ve started another one,” Scott commented cheerfully.

Suddenly self-conscious, Blair tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I finished the other one this morning.”

Scott nodded toward the abandoned book she’d brought with her. “Not in the mood for political gossip today?”

“It isn’t gossip,” she felt obliged to argue. “It’s a serious discussion of the current political climate in light of recent—”

“Blair, I’ve read the book. It’s gossip—phrased in pseudo-intellectual terms, perhaps, but gossip nonetheless. And it’s all bull.”

She frowned. “You’ve read it?”

“Every page. I was stuck in an airport in Hong Kong with nothing else to read. And it was a total waste of my time. I’d have been better served if I’d spent those two hours reading something fun and entertaining rather than some overeducated windbag’s interpretation of Washington shenanigans.”

“But—”

Growing impatient with the discussion, Jeffrey bounced on his feet. “Aunt Blair, come out to the porch and see what we caught this afternoon. Scott’s going to cook them for dinner.”

“You caught some fish?” Distracted from the literary argument, she studied the expression on her nephew’s face. It was so rare that Jeffrey looked genuinely excited. She was determined not to dampen his enthusiasm. She set the book aside and rose. “I’d love to see them.”

Three fat, glistening trout lay in a cooler on the front porch. Blair examined them and nodded gravely. “Oh, yes, these are fine fish. Did you catch them, Jeffrey?”

“Only one of them,” he admitted, then added proudly, “but it’s the biggest one.”

“Wow. That is a big one. I wish I’d brought a camera to take your picture with it.”

“Scott already did.”

Blair looked at Scott in surprise. He pulled a small, one-time-use camera from one of the many pockets of his khaki fishing vest. “I always pack a camera,” he explained. “Since I release a lot more fish than I keep to eat, I take pictures of my biggest catches to prove my fishing prowess.”

Whatever his reason, Blair was pleased that he’d made a production of taking Jeffrey’s picture with the fish. That must have made the boy even more proud of his accomplishment.

“That’s a photograph we’ll definitely have to frame,” she said lightly. “Did you enjoy fishing, Jeffrey? Was it fun?”

“Yeah, it was cool. It was hard at first because I didn’t know when I had a bite and then I kept letting them get away. But then Scott gave me some advice and I caught a couple that were too little to keep and then I hooked this big sucker. I thought he was going to get away, too, but I hung on and I did what Scott told me to do and I got him close enough so Scott could catch him in the net. It was really cool,” he repeated, speaking so quickly his words nearly tripped over themselves.

Amused by his enthusiasm, Blair reached out without thinking to smooth his tousled brown hair. “That must have been very exciting.”

Scott put one hand on Jeffrey’s shoulder and the other on Blair’s, linking them companionably together. “Hope you two like grilled trout. That’s what we’re having for dinner.”

“I’ve never had grilled trout,” Jeffrey replied. “But it sounds good.”

“Great. Now all we have to do is convince your aunt to clean the fish.”

Blair’s eyebrows lifted. She kept her voice purposefully cool when she asked, “I beg your pardon?”

Scott laughed. “Have I ever mentioned that I like it when you do that?”

“When I do what?”

“When you act all snooty and indignant. It’s cute as all get-out. Makes me want to just kiss you silly.”

While Blair fumbled for a response, Jeffrey gave a muffled laugh.

Scott grinned, apparently satisfied with their reactions. “I’ll clean the fish. You can make some side dishes, if you want.”