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“Sounds like a riveting segment?” Chris rose. “Agreed. You can get footage of me out on the empty lake, with the mountains reflected in the water. It’s a beautiful sight, isn’t it?”
“It is lovely,” Sofia admitted.
“Once you have that, you can head off to your hotel without needing to wait for us to row back. Get your footage and then relax in your rooms and come tomorrow for lunch—”
“We’re actually coming before breakfast. I want the morning light on the lake, and the forecast calls for mist. I thought we’d get some footage of you hunting.”
He thought fast. “That’s an excellent visual. However, this isn’t the place for shooting more than snowshoe hares and grouse, and they’re both out of season.”
“There’s a season for rabbit hunting?” the female half of the camera crew said, sounding rightfully dubious.
“Not officially, but people in the Yukon are very conservation minded, and this is breeding season.” Did rabbits have a breeding season? “Now, I could take you caribou hunting, which we see Theo doing in the book, or even go after a Dall sheep.” He pointed at the mountain, squinting into the sun. “Keep an eye up there for white dots. Those are the sheep.”
“Sheep hunting in the mountains?” Sofia said. “That sounds incredible.”
“It is, but it’s also highly illegal at this time of year. Same as caribou or moose hunting. Which is why we can’t do, well, any hunting, really. Now, if you really want pictures of me hunting in the morning mist, we can do the visuals. But I can’t actually shoot anything. That would be wrong. Conservation is key, whether it’s me or Theo in the book. Imagine what would have happened if people had hunted all the game before the zombies came. There’d be no bountiful refuge for Theo and the others. It’s all about resource management. Which means we can stage a hunt, but I’m not actually going to fire a gun and risk my neighbors thinking danger’s afoot.”
“Fire a gun?” Daphne said, sounding alarmed as she hurried out the patio doors.
“I was saying I will not fire a gun,” he said. “I will only pose as if I’m firing one. Tomorrow.”
“Tonight he’s fishing,” Sofia said.
Daphne slowly turned to him.
“We’re fishing,” Chris said. “The two of us.”
Panic touched her eyes, and he tried to indicate that it was okay, he knew how to fish, but that apparently wasn’t a message easily transmitted in looks and gestures, because she motioned that she needed to talk to him.
“Don’t worry about the dishes,” he said. “The crew will be leaving as soon as they get some footage. I’ll meet you at the dock after I grab life vests.”
“They’re in—”
“—the shed,” he said with a smile. “My memory may be scattered, but I do remember that.” Mostly because he’d seen them there earlier, when he’d done a frantic survey of the shed’s contents. “Meet you on the dock in five.”
She still hesitated, but he made little shooing motions that would be incredibly condescending coming from anyone but Zane Remington. He tried to add a reassuring smile from himself.
She was obviously worried that he was getting into something he couldn’t pull off. He’d explain once they were out. He’d been on hundreds of fishing trips with his family, the last being just this past weekend. They had unlimited access to his grandparents’ prized boat, and someone went out at least every other weekend in the summer, with Chris joining when he could.
After one last anxious glance, Daphne retreated into the house.
“All right,” Chris said in his Zane voice. “Two life vests coming up.”
He started down the stairs.
“Is that really necessary?” Sofia asked as they descended.
“Hmm?” Did she mean was it necessary to take Daphne with him? He opened his mouth to claim the boat required two people.
“Life vests,” she said. “I know, safety first, but they’re not exactly photogenic. I hate to be shallow but…”
“A bulky life vest will not do me any favors, especially if you’re shooting from a distance. I’ll look like I’ve been eating too many of Dana’s cookies.” He laughed at his own joke, even while secretly wincing. That veered dangerously close to fat-shaming, but Zane would make the joke.
“Exactly,” Sofia said. “Unless you can’t swim.”
“I helped bring home the gold for my team in high school.”
That wasn’t a Zane boast. Chris had been on the gold medal–winning high school team. Okay, he’d barely made the cut, but he was a strong swimmer. Credit all those years of jumping off his grandparents’ boat to paddle around when the fish weren’t biting.
