“If you catch a fish, send me a picture.”
Daniel grunted noncommittally and said his goodbyes. The last thing he needed was for photo proof to exist of how he would be wasting his next couple of weeks.
BRAN WAVED HIS CANE at Crystal. “He'll either show or he won't, but pacing a hole in the floor won’t make it happen any sooner.”
Crystal dropped onto one of the blue fold-up camp chairs in the corner of the room where she kept all the map books. “You're right. I probably hauled you out here for nothing. It had to have been a prank call.”
“Could be. Or could just be rich. There's people living up at the lake who wouldn't think twice about paying for a month of your time.”
“He’s paying for guide services. Don't make it sound like I'm personally being bought.”
Bran wheezed a chuckle, his bony shoulders shaking. “Just remember, if he tries anything...”
“... I know the best places on the river to hide a body,” Crystal said with a grin. It had been the phrase her dad had used to justify letting Crystal guide trips when women around town had expressed concern over her safety. Crystal may not have grown up with a mother, but in a town this small there were plenty of mother figures.
The singing bass over the door squawked, and Crystal’s nerves matched it as she jumped to her feet. The man who walked in—no, strode; this man definitely strode—wore a full-on suit. It was deep brown, the exact color of his hair, and fit perfectly over strong shoulders and long limbs.
Crystal really should have expected something like this. He hadn’t even hesitated at upping her bonus by three thousand dollars; it was a wonder the man hadn’t shown up in a tux.
His dark hair looked freshly cut, and the scruff on his cheeks was just enough to seem purposeful without looking like a full beard. Crystal didn't make a habit of evaluating her clients based on appearance, but even she had to admit he was one of the best-looking men who’d ever walked through her door.
Swallowing, she stepped forward, extending her hand. “Daniel? I'm Crystal.”
The man took her hand to give it one short shake. His eyes traveled down her Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt to her frayed denim shorts and boots, then back up to her short brown hair that curled around her ears and at the edge of her forehead.
She resisted the urge to squirm like a fish on the line. Was he regretting his choice of guide? She'd heard it all—too young, too female, not feminine enough, too small, too thin—but it was still hard wondering what he thought. His face gave no sign.
Needing to get his eyes off her, Crystal waved over to the front of the room. “This is Bran. He watches the shop for me when I'm out on trips.”
The man nodded at Bran, and this time his eyes did no up-down maneuver. “Daniel.”
Crystal clapped her hands together. “Okay, well, let's get started.” She went over to the counter and grabbed her yellow pad of paper and a pen, then gestured Daniel to have a seat in one of the camp chairs. “Normally I would’ve gotten some information from you ahead of time, but since you have a month, I guess it doesn't matter if we do it now instead.” She sat across from him. This was so much easier over the phone when she didn't have to get distracted by the fact that her client’s eyelashes were longer than hers. “How much fishing experience do you have?”
“None.”
She put on her best “reassuring guide” smile. “No worries. We help beginners all the time. This is a great area to learn.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “I wasn't worried.”
Not sure how to interpret that, Crystal decided to ignore it. “All right, so what kind of fishing are you here for?”
Daniel’s forehead wrinkled. “There are different kinds?”
This had to be a prank.
She gestured to the far wall, covered in rods and reels of all sizes and varieties. “Different rods, different types of fish... Are you wanting to head to the lake or the river?”
The corner of Daniel’s lip tipped up again, but this time Crystal had no trouble telling it was sardonic, not cheerful and excited. “So many ways to sit in a boat and wait for something to happen.”
Crystal stared at him, her notepad forgotten. If that was what he thought of fishing, why was he here? And who was he to look down on it, anyway? He knew nothing about it. He probably had some mental image of a redneck with a cooler full of beer sitting on the lake and using the excuse to his wife that he'd been “fishing.”
Even as Crystal’s lips snapped shut in a hard line, Bran’s wheezy chuckle carried across the room. The sound helped bring her back to the moment. “I can help you with a spinning reel or fly fishing. Bass and trout are popular around here, but we also have crappie, catfish, and lots of others. They need different types of tackle, so—”
He waved a hand and cut her off. “Just pick whatever is the least boring and ring up whatever I'll need.”
Crystal was used to being dismissed for her gender or her size, but this guy was dismissing the entire sport that made up her livelihood—and one of the most important pieces that made Crystal who she was. Her temper was rising like that of the August day outside, but she took in a deep breath.
His money could help her keep the shop. No matter what kind of arrogant jerk he was.
Pasting on her sweetest smile, she stood. “Fly fishing it is.”
Bran’s wheezy cackle from the other side of the room was as validating as applause.
This guy wanted something more than just sitting in a boat? Well, she'd make him flip that rod back and forth until he thought his arms would fall off.
Chapter 4
Crystal got her most expensive fly rod rigged out and motioned for Daniel to follow her outside. When she stopped, he nearly tripped into her. “Time to learn how to cast.”
He looked around at the strip of grass that was the shop’s front lawn, and then at the parking lot. “Where's the water?”
“Fly fishing is not, as you put it, just sitting in a boat waiting for something to happen. You're going to have to learn the mechanics before I let you near the water where you might scare off all the fish.”
For the first time, a spark of interest lit his gaze.
Crystal spent the next few minutes demonstrating a standard overhead cast, flicking the line back and forth over her head and gradually letting out line until the tip of the hookless leader filament was tapping the license plate of the shiny gray Lexus in the parking lot that must be Daniel’s. A muscle in his jaw had tightened and flexed the closer she’d gotten to his car, which made it even more fun.
“Your turn.” She passed him the rod, and tried not to laugh as he discovered it wasn't as easy as it looked. He whipped the green line back and forth like it was a weapon, snapping it through the air instead of letting it float. When he let out too much line and thunked it against the hood of his car, he winced.
“Remember how I said you want the fly to come down gently and not spook the fish? Maybe you shouldn't spook your car either.”
Grumbling under his breath, he stripped in some line like she'd shown him and began again, his strong shoulders making that suit coat look good.