Do You Take This Daddy?. Katie Meyer
she needed to cool off before she did something crazy, like make a move on him. She never did that. Guys were not interested in skinny brunettes with fish slime on their hands; they wanted blonde bombshells who got manicures and wore sundresses. Her own cutoffs were getting so frayed she’d need to throw them out soon, and her tank top was faded and plain. Her biggest nod to fashion was her extensive collection of bathing suits. It’s not that she disliked shopping as much as she figured she was never going to look like a supermodel, so why bother?
Noah might make her feel good about herself, but she needed to remember she was still a small-town tomboy who probably smelled like bait. And even if he was interested, he was leaving in a week. She respected herself too much to be just an upgrade on some guy’s vacation package. She needed to treat him like all the other guys she knew, a buddy, someone to have some laughs with. She could do that. She just needed to put things back in perspective.
Thankfully, when it came to perspective, she had a secret weapon. Putting her pole in one of the rod holders, she retrieved her camera bag from where she’d stowed it earlier. Her Canon Rebel was secondhand, but worked better than a lot of the newer models she’d seen tourists carrying. More importantly, she’d spent enough time with it to learn all its quirks, until it had the same familiar comfort as a favorite pair of slippers.
Noah was watching his line with the intensity of a lion stalking its prey, and she was able to snap several shots of him before he noticed.
“I wondered how long it would take you to get that thing out.”
“Sorry, I don’t usually sneak photos of people like that. You just looked so....” Gorgeous? Distracting? “Focused,” she finished. “I can get rid of it if you want, but it’s a good shot.”
He shrugged. “If it’s good, keep it.”
It was good, she knew without looking. She’d felt that tingle that said the shot was exactly how she wanted it to be. “Thanks. And I promise I’ll give you a heads-up if I aim your way again.”
Glancing at her still slack line, she moved to the bow. There was an anhinga perched on a partially sinking tree stump drying its wings, just begging to be photographed. Stretching out on her belly, she steadied the camera, letting her world shrink down to the size of her viewfinder. Shot after shot, the hypnotic sound of the shutter clearing her mind. By the time the gangly bird flew off, she had a cramp in her neck and could feel the sting of a sunburn starting. No telling how long she’d been there; hopefully Noah wasn’t too bored. So much for being a fun tour guide.
She rolled over and saw him reeling in his line, Baby asleep at his feet. A minute later, he pulled up a small fish, deftly snagging it in one hand. “Are these things good to eat?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s a mangrove snapper, but he’s a bit too small.”
“I figured, but this is the third one I’ve caught. The first two were bigger, but I wasn’t sure what they were or if I should keep them, so I let them go. Guess I’ll send this one back to his buddies.” He deftly released the fish, unconcernedly watching it swim away.
“Two more? You should have said something!”
“I didn’t want to break your concentration. I hate it when people interrupt me when I’m working.”
She shook her head. “I appreciate that, but I’m supposed to be helping you. You could have kept those bigger ones for dinner tonight.”
“I’m fine. There was nothing pressing I needed. Besides, we can still have a fish dinner.”
“I don’t think so.” She eyed the sun, now directly overhead. “It’s getting too hot to catch much now. We’d have to stay out until nearly dark if we wanted to have a chance, and I didn’t bring enough food or water for that.”
“You forget, there’s more than one way to skin a cat. Er, fish.” He winked. “Trust me. Be at the Sandpiper at six and I’ll show you.”
* * *
Noah stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. After the fishing trip this morning, he’d taken a walk on the beach, then ordered room service for lunch, staying in his room to work on some sketches and catch up on email. He’d also used part of the afternoon to track down the area’s best seafood restaurant. Initially he’d approached Nic, but the hotel proprietor had deferred to his wife, explaining that Jillian had lived on the island far longer and was the better source of information.
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