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I find a pair of stretch athletic shorts and a t-shirt that aren’t too crazy big for Lyric to wear since I pretty much shredded her dress last night. While she gets ready in my bathroom, I quickly shower and dress in the guest bathroom—to keep my hands off her stunning body.
After a quick breakfast, we pack a picnic basket and head to the garage to grab our fishing gear. Among my collection of unpacked boxes are two solid, reliable fishing poles. Lyric stands back, amusement dancing in her eyes at my casual chaos, but nevertheless, she accepts the pole I hand her. “When do you plan to finish unpacking?” she teases.
“I’ll get around to it. Eventually.” I turn and wink at her. “Right now, I’m too busy wooing my girl to worry about unpacking boxes.”
“Oh.” She bites her juicy bottom lip. “Woo away.”
“I plan to.” With our rods and a small tackle box in hand, we make our way down the path toward my private pond. The tree-lined walk is one of my favorite parts of the property. We make our way down the winding trail with vibrant leaves overhead shading the way.
“Wow,” she breathes out, reaching for a low-hanging branch and brushing it to the side. “This is freaking gorgeous.”
“Wait ‘til you see the pond,” I promise, excited to show her my favorite haven. We step through the clearing to find the tree-lined pond. At its edge lies a newly built wooden wharf, a project of pride and a perfect spot to cast our lines.
We step onto it and Lyric looks around, eyes bright and hair catching the playful breeze as she takes it all in. “This is amazing, Josh.”
There’s an unmistakable thrill in sharing this piece of my world with her, in watching her enjoy the things I hold dear.
After a quick rundown of fishing basics, I grab a live worm from the tackle box and hold it up to her. “I’ll show you how to bait your line.”
“Uh…” her expressive eyes widen, “I’m not killing a poor innocent worm to catch fish.” The stubborn set of her chin tells me this is one battle I’m not going to win.
“Why don’t we use lures instead?” I grab two lures from the tackle box and string them on the fishing line.
“And we’re going to let all those worms go, right?” She stares up at me with a look that melts my heart. I’d fucking do anything for this woman.
“Of course.” She already has me wrapped around her little finger. “There’s a muddy place in the shade over by that oak tree. It’s the perfect place to put them so they can find a new home.”
“Thank you.” Lyric’s happy smile soothes something deep in my soul I’ve never even realized is there.
After we turn the entire bowl of worms free, I take her back to our shaded spot on the wharf.
“So, what are we catching?” she asks, squinting into the distance like a captain surveying the horizon.
“Bass, mostly,” I say. “Would you like to have a little competition? We’ll see who catches the biggest fish.”
Her eyes light up. “Oh, you’re on.” She grins and claps her hands together. “Loser buys dinner?”
“Sounds like a plan,” I retort, a playful challenge heavy in the air between us.
The sun reaches mid-sky and I reapply sunscreen to Lyric before we cast our first line. “When did you start fishing to unwind?” she asks as I have a tug on my first cast. When I reel in a large bass, the fucker wiggles free and swims away before I’m able to slide the net under him.
“My parents were usually too busy at work or at the country club to spend time with me when I was young, so I spent most weekends with my grandparents. They had a little stream behind their house, and my grandfather used to take me fishing every weekend.”
Her eyes soften as her bottom lip trembles. “I’m sorry your parents suck.” Lyric rubs my forearm.
“Don’t be. I was much happier with Pops and Gram. They pretty much raised me until I went away to college. Now, they live on a little private beach near Miami.”
“Do you still go fishing with your grandfather?” She bites her bottom lip as she concentrates on casting her fishing line.
“I try to visit them several times a year, and we go fishing nearly every day when I’m there.” In fact, I’m supposed to go visit them in a few weeks, and I’m hoping to bring Lyric with me.
“That’s great.” She smiles, reels her line in, and casts it over to the other side. It gets caught in the weeds along the bank, and she grumbles under her breath while trying to tug it loose.
“Tell me about your parents.” I pull my line out of the water and lean my pole against the railing before walking over to help her free her line.
She glances over her shoulder and smiles. “They were great. Mom was a violinist and Dad was a pianist, and they played in a symphony together. When Lyra and I were nineteen, they died in a plane crash on their way home from a concert. Our family wasn’t well off, but we’ve always been very close.” I already knew the bare basics from the report Giant sent over. Which reminds me, I need to explain that report before it comes back to bite me in the ass.
Lyric surprises me with how quickly she gets the hang of fishing. What begins with enthusiastic determination soon turns into remarkable aptitude. Her first catch lands on the dock. Its shiny scales glisten in the sun as my girl squeals with pride.
