Know Your Heart: A New Zealand - Tracey Alvarez Page 0,25
kids and animals didn’t excuse him for being a rude, stubborn jerk.
Nate cast out the line and Drew shimmied with excitement in front of him. Nate wedged the rod into a rock crack and guided Drew’s fingers onto the lower half. “Hold on tight.”
The rod dipped sharply, so sharply that even Sav, standing to the side and a little behind them, jumped.
“You got a bite,” Nate shouted.
“A fish, a fish!”
Drew promptly released the rod and clapped his hands, while Nate grabbed hold.
With his new daddy’s big hands guiding him, Drew slowly wound the line in until the glistening, silver-scaled body of a snapper flopped onto the rocks.
“Little mate, you’ve landed a big one.”
Glen jammed his rod into a rock crack and came to stand silently beside her. Heat pumped off his body, negating the slight chill of the wind now the sun had slipped behind a cloud bank.
“I’ll hold the rod, Drew,” Nate said. “You and Glen go and grab your fish.”
Drew shook his head violently. “I wanna go with Aunty Sav, ‘cause she hasn’t been fishing for a long time.” He turned and held out his hand.
The thought of pulling the hook from the creature’s mouth then bashing it over the head made her want to hurl. But she gamely took Drew’s hand and forced her lips into an interested smile. They picked their way over to where the fish flapped and fought for freedom.
As they drew alongside, Drew’s hand clenched around hers, and his lower lip quivered.
“Are you okay, honey?” she said softly.
“He looks scary.”
The snapper’s tail thrashed, splashing up little plumes of water from the shallow rock pool where he’d landed, its mouth opening and closing. Drew sidled closer to her, looking back over his shoulder at Nate and Glen.
“He’s got sharp teeth.”
She couldn’t let a five-year-old deal with the hook piercing the fish’s lower jaw. “I’ll take out the hook, shall I?”
At Drew’s nod, Sav crinkled up her nose and placed one flip-flop covered foot onto the silvery body to steady it so she could drag out the hook. The fish went ballistic, thrashing and fighting. Drew let out a little whimper. Savannah bent and pulled out the hook before the poor kid got even more freaked. The snapper opened and shut its mouth some more but didn’t fight quite as frantically.
“He’s dying. I don’t want him to die.”
Drew’s voice cracked as he yanked on her elbow. He flung another glance behind him to Nate and Glen, both men now wearing identical frowns. Nate shoved the rod into Glen’s hand and headed toward them. A tear streaked down Drew’s face, which he scrubbed away with his fist.
“Let me have a look at him.” She lifted up her foot enough to grab the fish’s slippery body, then with a quick flick of her wrist, tossed the snapper back into the waves.
Sav clapped a hand—which reeked of fish—to her mouth and popped open her eyes wide. “Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry, Drew. He wriggled right out of my hands!”
“Hey.” Nate crouched at Drew’s side and laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “He got away, huh?”
“I’m such a butter-fingers,” Sav said. “He was huge, and he scared the crap outta me.”
“It’s okay, Aunty Sav.” Drew sniffed heroically and straightened his spine. “It’s okay to be scared.”
“That’s right, mate. And you still get bragging rights for catching such a whopper.” Nate ruffled Drew’s hair. “How about we get some fish n’ chips, since Aunty Sav lost our dinner?”
Drew glanced up at her, and Sav grinned, adding a magnificent eye roll.
“Whoops. My bad.”
“Yay!” Drew’s tears evaporated at the idea of a special treat for dinner. “I’ll go tell Mummy.”
Drew ran whooping toward his mother, scaring a cluster of seagulls eyeing up the bait remains.
Nate stood and tugged her ponytail, giving her a lopsided smile. “Thanks, butter-fingers.”
“You’re welcome.”
They walked over to Glen, who watched them stoically from behind his wraparound shades.
“You two up for takeaways?” Nate reclaimed his rod and finished reeling in the line.
Sav’s mouth watered at the thought of crispy, battered fish and hot chips, but she swallowed it down with a glance at her thighs. Twenty pounds weren’t going to evaporate by themselves, and she’d already been tempted beyond reason and had caved by eating one of Lauren’s cookies earlier.
“Not for me, thanks.”
Glen’s bland expression didn’t change as he crouched beside the bait board and fishing knife. “I’m going to stay a bit longer. We’ll catch up with you.”