Watching Shea had rapidly become his favorite pastime. Jake bit his lip, his concentration on Shea’s movements so intense, sweat broke out on his brow.
“Now you try it. Way you were starin’, I’m bettin’ you never failed at anythin’ you set your mind to.” Shea handed him the rope.
Jake’s heart sank. You’d lose that bet. Determination stiffened his shoulders and jaw, and he flicked the rope as he recalled Shea doing it. Soon he had it twirling over his head, albeit for only five or ten seconds or so, before it came crashing down on his shoulders.
“Good on you, Jake. We’ll make a cowboy outta you.” Shea collected the rope and gave him a pat on the back.
“Well, I wouldn’t go buy myself a horse just yet, but this is the most fun I’ve had in forever. Thank you.”
Shea gave him an odd look. “You don’t need to thank me. Just try to enjoy yourself.”
“I plan to, thanks.”
Almost everyone clapped for him, but Jake noticed Sterling’s cold gray eyes following his return to his seat, and not for the first time, he wondered why the man hated him so much.
Some members of the group elected to sit around and sing campfire songs, but Jake was ready to call it a night.
“I’m going fishing tomorrow morning, so I want to get an early start.” He got to his feet. “I’ll catch you guys around the ranch.”
“Fishing? You?” Oliver snorted. “Since when do you fish?”
While he enjoyed his friends, this was too much togetherness for him. He needed some time alone. Nothing more than himself and the breeze. With Stacey occupying every moment of his life when he wasn’t at work, Jake wanted to indulge in the rare quiet time he imagined early morning at the lake would provide.
Unwilling to reveal his true reason, Jake let Oliver’s dig sail off his shoulders. “It’s a rod and some bait. I mean, you drop a line in the water. How hard can it be?”
* * *
Jake was beginning to rue those words the next morning when for the fourth time, he had to untangle his fishing line from the trees. It seemed like it would be easy. Put a worm on the end of the hook, throw the line and watch it fly effortlessly into the water, where, in a moment, a hungry fish would grab it, and he could show everyone the fruits of his labor.
Not so much.
The worms were disgusting, and he hadn’t counted on how squeamish he’d feel sticking a hook through their slimy, wiggling bodies. He cast the line again, only to have it catch in the branches of the trees behind him.
“Why the hell did they plant so many damn trees here?” His fingers were fast accumulating an alarming number of tiny cuts from the sharp end of the hook. When he finally did manage a feeble toss of his line, Jake realized it might be much nicer to sit in a boat on the water, drink coffee from the thermos, and eat his bagel, all graciously provided by Miss Patty that morning when he told her his plans.
Jake eyed the line of rowboats bobbing along the lakeshore and decided he could handle it. He strode toward a boat, and after leaving his sneakers lakeside and tossing the rod and his backpack into the boat, he waded into the water and climbed inside.
“Not too bad for a city boy.” He smiled to himself. At seven in the morning, little stirred, and peace stole through him as he watched two swans glide along the mirrorlike surface. Too late, Jake saw the life jackets piled by the tree and the sign stating: LIFE JACKETS MUST BE WORN WHILE IN THE ROWBOATS.
“Not like there’s going to be a wave knocking me over.” But better safe than sorry, so he splashed to shore, grabbed a life vest and tossed it into the boat, then rowed out. He picked up his rod, stuck a worm on the end of the hook, and dropped it over the edge. “Much easier.” He sighed and stretched out his legs. “This is the life.”
He sat and drank his coffee while his boat drifted to the center of the lake, closer to the swans. They were pretty creatures, even more regal than he first thought. Clever too, given how they eyed him. They flapped their giant wings, impressing him with their wingspan. In the middle of putting on his life vest, he stopped to admire their beauty.