Page 57

“I see.”

He casts that damn line out again. That’s when I feel a little tug at my line, and my eyes snap to the bobber, waiting for the right moment. It takes one quick pull for me to hook something that puts up a fight as I start reeling. From the water, with a spray, comes the silvery flash of a trout.

“Look at that,” Larry says. “It’s your lucky day.”

“Huh,” I say.

“You should cast out again, see if you’re on a winning streak.”

He gives me a bucket, and I drop the trout in. It’s big enough Sabrina and I could split it, but it wouldn’t be much. Maybe Larry is right, and I am on a winning streak. I think about it for a minute, then bait and hook and cast it back out. It hits the water in the same spot.

My mind drifts back to Sabrina in the tent. To Sabrina on the sand yesterday, almost naked and glittering in the sunlight.

For the first time in a long time, I might be on a winning streak.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

SABRINA

When he comes back, he has three sizable fish, scaled and gutted. I’m impressed he just went out and got a meal, almost as impressed as I am at seeing him all dirtied up in his t-shirt, mud on his forearms.

“You mind getting the pan from the tent so we can get this going?” he says. “I need to wash up.”

“I think I can handle that.”

He disappears into the bathroom, dirt and scales all over. I locate the pan in the Walmart bags, along with some seasonings and oil, and go back to the fireplace. The pit still has some hot coals from last night. I dig around in the sandy area behind the tent and bring back handfuls of dried grass to twist into little logs for kindling. Then, the real kindling goes on top of that. Pretty soon, there’s a fire I’m proud of flickering under the pan.

“Look at you.”

Crouched, I look up at him. He’s drying his hands and arms, clothes still dirty but the rest of him clean.

“Thanks,” I say primly.

“You camp a lot?” He crouches to my level, elbows on his knees.

I shake my head. “Only when we’re working pretty far out in one of the fields. Sometimes, Serena and I would spend the night so we didn’t have to ride all the way back if we had a job that was almost finished.”

“You and your sister do some heavy lifting.”

I’m quiet, watching the oil start to bubble. He waits, letting me think, which I appreciate.

“Yeah, but it’s okay.”

I drop the fish in the pan, and they make a satisfying sizzle. Tending fires and camping aren’t second nature to me. I have no trouble with them, but the cooking, I can do with my eyes closed. It was always me after Mom moved out, and every day ever since, except for when Serena takes a stab at it, but that’s rarely a good thing. The cooking talent skipped her a bit.

That sobers me right up. I’m not ready to get into all that now, so I take a second to wipe my face clean before looking up at him.

“You go camping a lot?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, I haven’t had the time. But I’m used to sleeping upright in a tour bus.”

“You mind that?”

He’s silent for a little bit. The fish crackles. I use the metal camp spool to flip it over, managing to keep the flaky meat from sticking. This smells like some of the best fish I’ve ever had. Or maybe I’m just starving from how hard he worked me over last night.

Heat flares, deep inside. A shiver goes through my limbs.

He’s good at what he does, that’s for sure.