should try this one.” Cam removed a club from a golf bag and handed it to Zach. “It’s under a hundred dollars and it has a great feel.”
Zach used the club to hit another ball. “Nice. I didn’t come here to buy a golf club, though. You got time to go by the pub and grab a beer? Or do you have to get home to the ball and chain?”
Cam sputtered a laugh. “Do me a favor. Let me be there when you use that term around Sarah.”
“She’d kick my ass.”
“Absolutely. Let me take care of my receipts and lock up. We can take the scenic route—I’ll need to drop off my deposit at the bank.”
While Cam returned to the cash register, Zach sidled up to the table where Cam had his fly-tying tools and supplies set up. Without really thinking about it, Zach tightened a hook into the jaws of the vise and picked up the bobbin. As he wound floss around the hook, his thoughts returned, yet again, to the incident along the highway. “Has Sarah said much about the newcomer from Georgia?”
“The delectable Ms. Moore.” Cam eyed Zach with interest. “Sarah bought a soap from her that makes her skin smell like butterscotch ice cream. Makes me want to lick my wife all over.”
“I really don’t need to hear details about your sex life, Murphy.”
“You’re jealous. Totally understandable, as is your interest in sexy Savannah.”
“Did I say I was interested in her?”
No, you just kissed the hell out of her, numbnuts. On the side of a public roadway. What were you thinking?
“You didn’t have to say anything,” Cam fired back. “I watched you at the softball game. You’re interested.”
Zach scowled and wound floss around the hook. “I’m not interested.”
“My wife will be crushed. She’s decided that the two of you are perfect together.”
Perfect together? Zach set down the bobbin. “A perfect disaster, maybe.”
“Why do you say that? I’ve never seen you shy away from a gorgeous woman.”
“I’m not shying away from anything.” No way was Zach going to mention the ex-con aspect of Savannah’s history. “I just know that she and I wouldn’t work.”
“Uh-huh,” Cam replied in a disbelieving tone. “Sounds to me like you protest a bit too much, but I’m not going to argue. I’m ready for that beer. I need a few more minutes with my receipts, though. You have time to tie a fly.”
“I don’t need any fishing flies,” Zach said, suddenly frustrated with … everything. “I am covered in flies. Deerflies are the bane of my existence. They lie in wait for me in my garage.”
Taking the change of subject in stride, Cam asked, “Did something die in your garage?”
“No. Jack says it’s what I get for living on a lake. We have armed hostilities going on.”
Cam grinned. “Armed?”
“Out-and-out war. The flies have teeth, you know, and they bite. I’ve started biting back.”
“That’s disgusting, Zachary.”
“I don’t eat ’em. I get wasp spray and a flyswatter, tie a bandanna around my head, and go Rambo on them. You gotta keep moving fast, or they’ll bite the fire out of you.” He hesitated a moment, then asked, “Why does Sarah think that?”
“About you and Savannah? I dunno. I can’t recall. I’m too distracted by the mental image of you fighting deerflies in your garage.”
“It’s a battlefield, I’m telling you. The buggers are fast and mean.”
“Try any ninja rolls on them?”
Zach pursed his lips. “No, but it’s a thought.”
“Sarah says that once Savannah is comfortable with someone, she warms up and is generous and fun to be around.”
“So is my dog,” Zach muttered. “Now that I think about it, ninja rolls might be just the ticket. The flies aren’t entirely stupid. They know when you’re running out of pookie from the change in spray-can harmonics, and that’s when they blitz your position. A roll would shake up the spray, too. Economy of motion.” He waited a beat and said, “She’s secretive.”
“That’s part of what makes her intriguing. Why wasp spray and not something made for flies?”
“What’s the challenge in that? Besides, there is no trap or bait or spray that will kill them or drive ’em away. I guess you’re right about the intriguing part. I’ve always liked to solve mysteries. The woman has layers. I want to peel them away.”
“I’d ask if you mean clothing or psychological layers, but I know you better than that. You’d say both. So if spray doesn’t kill them, again I ask: why wasp spray?”