rod and look pretty. You do just fine with mine.”
This is a disaster.
It’s a perfect scene for a photo shoot. Three small boats sit on calm water in the middle of high afternoon in perfect weather. There’s not a cloud in the sky, which is fucking rare in this country, and the temperature is mild. Daisy looks beautiful sitting in the motorboat in her white floral summer dress. Her hair is like liquid silk, pouring from her head to brush her white shoulders. The skirts from her dress splay over the wood as she sits next to a small can of bait. Her pretty red mouth is twisted into an expression of disgust as she holds a squirming worm next to the fishhook.
“Oh my God. I can’t do this.”
Her American accent grates my ears as I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
It’s a fucking worm.
Photographers sit in motorboats adjacent to us, wiping sweat from their brows as they wait for Daisy to smile and look like she’s having fun.
She touches the worm against the metal and then screams when it wriggles violently. Then she drops it and yelps when it lands in her lap. I imagine myself reaching over to pluck it from her lap and throwing it in her cleavage.
Too much. Even for me.
“Good Lord, Daisy.”
“I’m sorry!” she bursts out, picking up the worm with extreme distaste. “I find the idea of impaling a living thing and getting blood all over my hands absolutely disgusting.”
“Then let me do it, Princess.”
She glowers at the word but reluctantly lets go of the fishing wire. I ball the worm, shoving it through the barbed hook. Then I hand it back to her. She takes it gingerly.
“You look constipated.”
“Shut up,” she snarls. “This is really not my thing.”
“You need to at least pretend to like the second most important industry in the country.”
“All right.”
I admire the view of her ass when she stands with the fishing pole in her hand, before I realize what a bad idea it is to sit behind her while she's casting. The boat rocks slightly as she aims the pole backward. The hook hovers dangerously close to my shoulder.
“Careful, Daisy!”
She rips the pole back. “Oh, sorry. All right. Here goes nothing.”
“Just press the button!”
She swings the pole like a baseball bat, releasing the wire so it sails to the left, right into the photographers’ boat. They yell, diving to the floor, and the hook sinks right into some bloke’s hat.
“Oh my God,” she shrieks.
“Don’t—”
Too late. She yanks the rod, revealing the man’s bald head as his hat sails into the brilliant sunshine. It spins in the air gracefully before landing with a soft splash in the lake.
I laugh my ass off as Daisy reels in the hat, apologizing profusely to the photographer, who takes it in stride. She glances back to send me a vicious glare.
“Are you done?”
I watch as the man extricates the hat from the hook, wringing it dry. I lose my shit again. I laugh so hard my chest hurts.
“I’m sorry,” I say, wiping tears from my eyes. “It’s just—you’re hopeless at this.”
“That’s what I tried to tell you. This is embarrassing me.”
“Oh relax. I’m having a good time.”
“I’m going to kick your ass later,” she mouths.
“Good. You remembered what I said about foreplay.”
She makes another small scream of frustration, and I stand. As much as I enjoy seeing her pissed off, we can’t be out here all day.
“Be nice to me.”
I take her waist, folding her body into mine. “I am being nice. I’ll show you how to do this. Now relax your joints.”
I grab the fishing rod, intertwining my fingers with hers. My heart pounds as her ass brushes against my cock. I can feel the warmth of her stomach under my hand.
“Loosen up, love. You’re way too stiff.”
“You’re the one who’s too stiff,” she hisses back.
She digs her ass against my hips to prove her point.
“Stop being sexy and I’ll stop getting a boner around you.”
Her cheeks blaze.
“All right. I’ll swing your arm. Don’t press the button until I say so.”
Maybe it’s the sun beating down on us, the smell of her hair, or the feel of her ass, but I feel dizzy, as though slightly drunk. I kiss the shell of her ear and swing her arm back.
I swing it forward in a quick flick. “Now!”
The fishing hook soars across the lake, and the photographers give a little round of applause after they take pictures.
“Good job. Now slowly reel, and