Summer on Lovers' Island (Jewell Cove 3)

“They’re so cute!” She looked at Josh and grinned widely. “And there are so many of them!”

“More now than there used to be. A lot of people say that the increase in the seal population is what’s bringing the great whites this far north.”

She moved away from the edge of the boat a little and he laughed. “Relax,” he said. “I’ve been in these waters a long time and I’ve yet to see one.”

They watched for a few more minutes, and then Josh increased his speed and pulled away, moving them away from the island.

“Where are you going?” she asked, raising her voice slightly as he sped up, cruising past the south side of the island and into more open water.

“I’m going to take you fishing, just like I promised,” he said, grinning. “The depth out here is perfect.”

She raised an eyebrow, slightly disappointed they weren’t going to visit the mysterious island. She was sure there was more to enjoy than just seal watching. “You were serious about that?”

He laughed. “Of course I was.”

She sat, curious, as he picked his spot, cut the engine, and let them drift on the waves. “Now’d be a good time to put on that sunscreen,” he suggested. “I know it’s midmorning, but it can get pretty intense on the water.”

While she applied the cream to her legs, arms, and face, he retrieved rods and tackle. The sun was beaming down and warming the top of her head, so she took a ball cap from her bag and pulled her ponytail through the back. He handed her a fishing rod, which she gripped rather awkwardly. She’d done a lot of crazy things, but she’d never done something as simple as going fishing in her life.

“This is a jig line,” he explained. “More than one hook, see?” He showed her briefly, then demonstrated how to work the reel. “You’re going to cast, like this.” He cast out from the boat, the line whirring until it hit the water with barely a plop. “Let your line drop until you feel it hit bottom. Then you lift, and reel a little bit. Lift, reel. Like this.” He lifted the end of the rod, reeling in some line, lowering it again. He’d only done so twice when he grinned. “And I’ve got something on the line. Ten bucks says it’s a pollock.”

“You’ve been here lots before.”

“After a while you learn the best spots and depths for certain kind of fish. Pollock is one of our favorites. Nice and mild, beautiful when it’s fresh.”

She watched as he patiently brought up the line, saw the tip of the rod bend under the weight of the fish. When it was nearly up, he held the line with his hand and brought it over the side of the boat. Two silvery fish, each just over a foot long, wiggle

d on the line.

“You got two!” She watched, fascinated, as he took them off the line and threw them back.

“You’re not keeping them?”

“We’ll get bigger ones and put them in the live well. I’ll take the extra back home and give some to Mom and the girls. Sometimes on the weekends the guys come out with me and we have a big fish fry in the evening.”

“That sounds fun,” she said, watching as he reset the line.

“It is. Mom makes these great potatoes with garlic and parsley butter, and in another few weeks there’ll be vegetables from Sarah’s and Mom’s gardens. You should join us for one of those.”

It sounded lovely … and a little too familyish for her liking. She was supposed to be keeping her distance and not getting overly involved, wasn’t she?

He smiled at her. “Pan-fried it’s great. But my favorite is when Sarah makes her beer batter and we have homemade fish-and-chips.”

What a perfect life he seemed to lead. And it was all well and good for now, she supposed. But eventually she knew she’d start missing her condo and restaurants with real cloth napkins and a wine list. Heck, even a movie theater or a club would be a huge step up.

“Now you try,” he said, putting the rod in her hands. “Use this to release the line as you cast, then get a feel for it as it drops.”

Her first cast only went about thirty feet, but Josh said that was okay and to carry on. She didn’t catch anything but got familiar with the rhythm of lifting the rod and reeling in the slack.

“Try again,” he suggested. “Fishing isn’t something done in a rush. It’s like you have all the time in the world.”

This time her cast went out a little farther and before long she felt a pull and jerk.

“I think I’ve got something!”

Josh’s grin was wide. “Awesome. Don’t rush. Just be smooth, lift, and reel.”

She reeled in the line, the weight of something on the other end terribly exciting and foreign. When she lifted for the last time, she saw the fish on the hook. “I got one! He’s still there! What do I do now?”