Now he fiddled with a handful of gray fishing weights, letting them spill through his fingers over and over as he waited for Crystal to tell him to get in her truck.
“I'm changing things up.” Crystal came over and pushed a spinning reel at him. He’d read this was the kind most people would have started learning with, had they not goaded their guide into giving them the harder route. “You are way too impatient for flies today. Today we are going for sheer quantity, and I'm bringing along a guarantee.”
He raised his eyebrows.
Before he could ask, she pointed to the truck. “Get in.”
When they arrived at the river, she pulled out two Ziploc bags full of dirt. “Here. Our guarantee.”
Daniel caught the plastic baggie and peered at the slimy red bodies twisted through the dirt. “Worms? Aren't those the most common fish bait?”
“Yep. Worst-kept secret ever.” She grinned and pulled a worm from her bag, popped a couple inches off, and threaded it onto a hook. She didn't even flinch. Daniel wasn't sure he'd be able to do the same. “If you ever just really want to catch fish fast, and you don't care what kind of fish, a worm is as good a bet as anything.” She held her hook out so Daniel could see exactly how she'd fixed the worm on.
“Maybe you should put the first one on for me.”
She shook her head. “I have five-year-olds who can hook a worm. You got this, big guy.” She patted his shoulder condescendingly, then strode into the river.
Well, she certainly kept him on his toes. To be honest, she was probably the only reason he was surviving this long without work.
He scrunched his nose at his bag of worms. Here went nothing.
When he joined her in the river, she held up a hand. “Race starts in three—”
“Wait—”
“Two.” She reminded him how to prep the reel as she counted.
“One.” She sent her line flying out into the river, and he sent his a much smaller distance with a large plop.
Grunting, he reeled it in and tried again with slightly better results. “Definitely different from the fly rod.”
She didn't even answer, too busy hauling in her first fish already. Were worms really tha—
Daniel’s rod jerked as well. He hauled his prize in, only to find out it was tiny, only about 4 inches long.
“Toss him back and catch another,” Crystal said, turning and walking up-current from him. “Today is all about quantity. Just try to keep count.”
Not every fish bit so quickly as the first, and Daniel found himself glancing repeatedly upstream at Crystal. She had a certain way of standing in the water, something about the set of her shoulders, and the way any lines on her face vanished the moment she stepped into a current.
He'd seen her worried glances around the shop when she’d thought he wasn't looking, and the cracked window covered with cardboard. She had stress of her own, a business she cared about like him, but when she stepped into the water, everything seemed to be swept away by the current. Sometimes they would just trade glances, not saying a word for an hour, and they were the most natural, comfortable silences he'd ever had with another person in his life.
And yet, the glee that filled her face when either of them caught something, the way she'd fire comments back if he teased or goaded her...
The silences weren't necessarily because she was a quiet person. She just knew something about this whole relaxing business he didn't. He’d tried to mimic the way she stood, the expression on her face, but it felt all wrong on him. He couldn't remember a time in the last ten years when he'd felt as serene as she looked now, standing there with her eyes half-shut, listening to the water, the birds, the insects in the trees.
Forget fishing—he needed her to teach him how to relax. He was pretty sure he came the closest when he was around her, so she should be the perfect teacher.
A voice called from the shore. “Lookie here!”
A short, stocky man on the bank wore a floppy hat like Crystal’s and the same type of vest. He carried a fly rod, as did the couple behind him.
“Girl brought you to the White River and didn't even give you a real rod?” the man hollered at Daniel, his grin too large. “Tell me she's at least got you using a decent rig.”
Crystal looked like she might be biting the inside of her cheek, and she wasn't exactly scowling, but she wasn't happy. “Hey, Frank. Nice day, isn't it?”
Frank laughed, the weathered lines of his face pulling across themselves, and the sound too loud and out of place in this serene setting. He pointed the tip of his rod at Crystal. “You can't coast on your daddy's reputation forever, girl. Guess I should talk to the bank about financing for that store of yours sooner rather than later if this is how you show your clients a good time.”
The couple behind Frank looked around awkwardly.
Frank moved the tip of his rod until it pointed at Daniel. “You come find me if you want a real day of fishing.”
Daniel’s whole body felt hot despite the cold water of the river running around him. What a jerk. Was this what Crystal dealt with all the time? Was this why she’d had no problem with him filling up her entire month? Sure, she might be a little grumpy sometimes, but usually only if he'd earned it, and there was no question she knew her stuff. She'd taken a guy like him, who knew absolutely nothing, and helped him catch fish on a fly rod the very first day.
Daniel lifted his own rod to point the tip toward Crystal. “Are you kidding? She's the best. We’ve been fly fishing for more than a week, and I've caught more than the rest of my life combined.” This guy didn't need to know he'd never been fishing before that. “I just asked if we could use these today for a change of pace, and to...” he remembered what Crystal had said about five-year-olds, “...relive my childhood.”
Frank's mouth twisted. “Aw, well, I guess some folks go in for nostalgia.” He turned to the couple he was guiding. “Come on folks. I'll show you how it's really done.”
Daniel waited until they had gone far enough down the bank to be out of sight, then waded through the hip-deep water until he was standing next to Crystal again. “Nice guy.”
Crystal snorted. “Aw, well, I guess some folks go in for that,” she said, her tone parroting the older man's.
Daniel grinned, and tried not to automatically stop when her eyes darted to his cheeks. He’d always hated those dimples. No one took you seriously if you had dimples. “I'm happy with the guide I picked, thanks.”
She ducked her head, the brim of her hat covering her face from him. “He and my dad were rivals.”
“And now he wants your shop?”
She nodded and began cranking in her line with jerkier movements than usual. “He's right, though. A lot of my leads came from my dad, and it's harder to get business when you're not a grizzled old man. People trust that those types really know where the fish hide.” It was the most bitter he'd ever heard her voice. “Let's call it, yeah? I'll buy you a funnel cake on the way back to make up for stopping early.”
Daniel reeled his line in without complaint. She'd been so calm and relaxed just a short time ago; he wanted to see her back that way, but this water wasn't likely to relax her again as long as there was a threat of Frank walking around the bend.