Facing the Music (Rosewood 1)

“Yep,” he nodded, although he wasn’t stupid. He still had the digital file. He considered it his insurance policy. He held out the pictures and they exchanged packages.

Quickly thumbing through the cash, he realized she’d shorted him. “Hey!” he snapped. “Where’s the rest?”

Lydia bit at her lip and shook her head. “That’s all I could get on short notice. I’ll get you the rest tomorrow, I swear.”

Dammit. He knew better than to hand over the photos before he was certain he had the full payment. He should’ve just blackmailed her, but he’d wanted to tie all this up and get paid. He would leave Rosewood as soon as that concert was done, and gladly. Sleeping in his car sucked. He had a crick in his neck and the bad attitude to go with it.

It was crap like this that forced him to keep copies of everything he had. It was pretty bad to run into someone shadier than he was, but it happened a lot. That snotty little rich girl thought she could just screw him and get away with it. She must be used to getting everything she wanted.

Well, she’d crossed the wrong guy. Nash always got what he wanted, too. And right now, he was thinking he wanted to see her writhe on a hook more than he wanted the rest of his money. It was a bullshit story anyway. She wouldn’t come up with another dime; he could tell by the dismissive way she wouldn’t even make eye contact with him.

He wasn’t worried, though. He’d find someone else who wanted the pictures and screw her over. With a sigh, he slipped the envelope of cash into his inner coat pocket.

“You’ll regret this.”

There were few things Blake liked more than being out on his boat. He loved skimming along the surface at high speed, the wind in his hair and the spray misting his face. There was a peacefulness about being out on the water. Even the sound of the trolling motor was a soothing hum.

Well into September, the heat and humidity had given way to temperatures in the high seventies with a light breeze. Blake slowed the boat and circled around to his favorite fishing spot. Willow Lake was large, but only maybe fifteen feet deep. The area he preferred was in a shallower section. About twenty years ago, Jasper Daniels had drunk a little too much beer and accidentally driven his 1974 Ford F-150 into the lake. He got out fine, but the truck made the lake its final resting place. Over the years, it had developed into an artificial reef that was a favorite with the bass that swam in these waters.

He killed the outboard motor, moving to the front of the boat to put down the trolling motor that would keep them slowly moving through the area where they wanted to fish.

Ivy was sitting two seats over from where he’d been, a giant red life vest strapped to her like the Titanic was about to go down. She was wearing an Alabama ball cap with her ponytail looped through the back and a large pair of dark sunglasses. A concerned frown pulled down the corners of her lips, disrupted only by the occasional frantic slapping at an imaginary bug.

Blake couldn’t help smiling. It was mean of him to make her do this, but Ivy could use a little time getting back to her roots. California was fine, with its organic wines, raw bars, and vegan cupcakes, but that wasn’t how she grew up. She grew up on fried catfish with hush puppies, banana pudding, and fresh venison stew.

He didn’t know exactly why he had this urge to reexpose her to her past. Fishing probably wasn’t the best way to make her fall in love with her home again, but it was a start. If she could focus more on the nature and enjoy the slower pace of living, she might want to come home more often. Or for good.

Blake swallowed hard. He thought he had come to terms with the idea of giving up Ivy in three days, but apparently not. Spending the last two days without her, knowing she was off with that movie star, certainly hadn’t helped the situation. He wasn’t the jealous type, he had no right to be, and yet his imagination ran wild with the thought of them together.

Blake wasn’t in love—that would be silly after only a few days—but he still felt proprietary about her. He could see the potential building between them again. Ivy just needed to give Rosewood a real chance. To give Blake a real chance. Not just some casual fling with a clock ticking down the time they had left.

“Well,” he said, rubbing his hands together in excitement. “Are you ready?”

Ivy shrugged, standing up on unsteady feet. The water was still, the boat barely moving. Sea legs shouldn’t be a requirement and yet she wobbled in her water shoes.

“You said you haven’t done this since you were eight?”

“Yes. When I was little, my dad would take me here on Sunday afternoons. We’d fish off the end of the dock. He didn’t have a boat until I bought him one last year.”

“Well, you’re an old pro, then. Let me get you a pole.”

“Are you going to make me bait my own hook?” she asked in a soft, tentative voice he wasn’t used to hearing from her. “My daddy would always do it for me.”

Blake smiled, suppressing the laughter bubbling in his throat. The woman had no problem performing in front of thousands of people or on live television, but she was squeamish about handling bait. Admittedly, he had been tempted, just to see her squirm, but he never used live bait and he wasn’t going to start today.

“No,” he said. “The lures are already tied on. I use crank bait.” He opened up a felt-covered panel on the deck of the boat and pulled out a small yellow-and-green plastic fish with two hooks dangling from it.

Ivy sighed in relief. “Thank goodness.”

After that she finally smiled for the first time today. Blake got both of them set up and their lines cast into the water. As he’d hoped, she seemed to relax into the activity of fishing. Without anyone else on the water, they were able to sit quietly and enjoy each other’s company while

they sipped bottles of sweet tea.

Blake caught a few fish, but only one was big enough for him to throw into the live well to keep. The rest were released back into the lake. Ivy didn’t have much luck, but it didn’t seem to bother her. After a while, she was content to reel her line in and just sit watching the water as the sun started to set.

“I’ve got the fixin’s for dinner back at my cabin whenever we’re done here,” Ivy said after a long silence.

“You’re cooking?” he asked.