Her Rugged Rancher (25 page)

Baby sat calmly a few feet from his mistress, not needing any minding that Noah could see. Mollie had her back turned, a hose in her hand as she bent over the bait wells hidden inside a set of bench seats. He wasn't quite sure what she was doing, but he wasn't going to distract her as long as he had such a nice view. Long, tanned legs ended in a trim bottom with just the right amount of curves, displayed nicely in a ripped pair of cutoffs that had him looking at denim with new appreciation.

“There, that's better.” Mollie stood up, tossing the short hose back onto the dock. Kicking off her flip flops, she stepped up onto the gunwale, stretching to reach the spigot sticking out from a mooring post.

“Careful!” His breath caught at the way she was leaning out so far over the edge—and not just because of the way her tank top was riding up.

Ignoring his warning, she turned the water off and then hung the hose up neatly on the hook next to it. “Relax. I'm not going to fall overboard. I promise.”

As if to prove her point, she balanced for a minute, hands free, before hopping down beside him. “See, totally safe.”

She might not be worried about drowning, but with her standing only inches away neither one of them was safe. She was close enough to taste, and he'd like nothing better than to kiss that cocky grin off her face. But she'd set the ground rules, and he wasn't enough of a jerk to break them. He hoped.

Backing up, he put some breathing room between them. “All right, so, what do we have to do now? Tell me how I can help, and don't say watch the dog—he obviously doesn't need a babysitter.”

Amusement flashed in her eyes. “You caught on to that, huh?”

“That you were just giving me a job to salve my ego and keep me out of the way? Yeah.”

Unrepentant, she shrugged a shoulder. “Well, I really didn't need you to do anything, and a lot of guys would get offended if I did everything myself and didn't let them help.”

“Are you kidding? I'm on my vacation. Or honeymoon, whatever. I think my ego can handle sitting here and watching a pretty lady take care of things. But,” he added, more seriously, “I'd love to learn, so maybe you can explain what you're doing, and then next time I really can be of some help.”

“You've got a deal.” She took the bags from him and dumped ice into a cooler located under yet another seat, stowed the drinks, and then put the frozen bags of bait in the now clean bait wells. “No ice on these. We want them to thaw a bit so we can use them. If we were using live bait, we could fill these compartments with seawater, and then turn on the air pump to keep the water oxygenated.”

“So noted. Drinks and bait separate, and live bait should be kept live.” He leaned his weight against the tall captain's chair, enjoying watching Mollie work. “So what's next?” She was an excellent teacher, and he was definitely an eager student.

“Next you get out of my seat so I can start the boat.” She gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow, and even that contact was enough to have his body reacting in ways that were not particularly appropriate. Glad he'd worn baggy shorts, he eased past her, careful not to let their bodies touch.

She inserted a normal looking key attached to a bright orange foam keychain and the engine rumbled to life. “We'll let it idle for a bit while I text my dad our float plan. Then we'll untie the lines and be on our way.”

“Float plan?”

“It's like a flight plan, but for boating. Whenever any of us go out, we let someone know when we are leaving, where we plan to go and when we should be back.”

“That's smart of you.” He relaxed a bit; he should have known she'd take the proper precautions. As impulsive as she claimed to be she also had a level head on her shoulders.

Mollie stared for a minute before seeming to accept his compliment at face value. “Thanks. All right, now, time to cast off. I'm going to untie this line, if you want to get the other one.”

Pleased that she'd given him a job, no matter how small, he carefully unwound the rough rope from the anvil-shaped metal cleat bolted to the dock. As soon as he was done, Mollie pushed off, freeing the small craft from its moorings before returning to the captain's seat. A minute later they were slowly motoring out of the marina towards the Intracoastal Waterway.

Looking back at Mollie, a peaceful smile on her face, the breeze blowing her hair as she effortlessly steered the boat through the channel, he couldn't help but think it might not be just the fish in danger of being hooked.

* * *

Mollie focused on steering the boat down the center of the channel, pretending that whatever this feeling was that sparked around Noah was nothing more than the normal response to being around someone as famous as him. Of course, it, whatever it was, had started before she'd known his identity. Which would mean it was something else entirely, something more primitive, more basic.

She certainly felt more primal, more aware of her own body around him. Cutoffs and a tank top had never felt so revealing, not that he'd done or said anything inappropriate. He was sticking to the terms of her agreement, but that didn't stop the air from almost crackling when they touched. Not that she planned on touching him again, but the boat was only so big and casual contact was hard to avoid.

“What's that?” Noah broke into her musings, pointing to a large wooden platform perched atop a post at the water's edge.

“A nesting platform. The power company builds them for the osprey, to try to keep them from nesting on utility poles. If you keep an eye out, you should see a few with actual nests on them. The ospreys around here are a bit unusual in that they don't migrate, so the breeding season goes on all year.”

“They live in Paradise, literally.” He gestured out over the clear water towards the picturesque sandy shore. “I wouldn't want to migrate, either. What could be better than this?”

“Adventure? New things, new places, new people? Stores that stay open past nine p.m.?”

“Whoa, where did that come from?” Noah's eyes crinkled in concern, his lazy slouch against the railing belying the edge beneath his words. “I thought you loved this place. Isn't that why you're showing me around? So I can see how great it is?”

Mollie bit back a defensive retort; it wasn't Noah's fault she felt so conflicted. Taking a few deep breaths of the salty humid air, she tried again. “I do love it here. I can't imagine a better place to grow up, or anywhere else ever being home.”

“But?” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

“But I want more!” She felt her cheeks heat at the outburst. Great, now she sounded like a spoiled brat. “That sounds awful, doesn't it?”

He grinned. “Not awful. Just sounds like you have a bit of wanderlust, that's all. Nothing wrong with wanting to travel a bit, strike out on your own.”

“You get it.” He put her rambling thoughts into words so easily it was like he could read her mind. “My family, my friends... They think I'm crazy to want to leave, I don't even have anywhere in particular I want to go. I guess I just don't want to end up tied down like my mom did.”

Noah waited for her to explain, not pushing, but letting her know he was listening if she wanted to share. Funny how it was so much easier to talk about this stuff with a near-stranger than her friends.

“My mom was a dancer, a talented one. She had a chance to go to New York and dance with a major company. I've seen the newspaper clippings, the old programs—she has a whole scrapbook full. She could have been famous.”

“What happened?”

“She met my dad.” And that had been the beginning of the end when it came to her mother's dancing career. “They fell in love, one thing led to another and a year later she had a ring, a mortgage and a baby. By the time I came along, she had given up on it completely. Once Dani and I were old enough for school, she started working at my father's law office as a secretary. She's never done anything else.”

“Does she regret leaving dance?”

“She says she doesn't.” Mollie shrugged. What else could she say? That she wished she'd never given up her career to have kids? Not exactly something you could tell your daughter. “She says she's happy, that having a family was always her real dream.”

“But that's not what you want.” It was a statement, not a question.

She shook her head. “I don't know if I ever will. I'm not like her. I can't even think about it. I want some adventure in my life, a chance to test my limits, make my mark on the world. I can't do that if I never leave the island.”

“So then go, chase your dreams.”

“What, just pick up and leave? Now?”

“Why not?” he challenged.

“Because...I'm not ready yet. I'm going to leave, at some point. But right now there's school, and my job, my family—”

“Those are excuses, not reasons.” She started to argue, but he held up a tanned hand, silencing her. “You could apply to school somewhere else, transfer your credits. Or take a semester off. There are jobs everywhere. And your family, assuming everyone is in good health, isn't going to wither up and die if you leave the zip code. As far as I can see, there's nothing keeping you here, assuming you really want to leave, that is.”

“Of course I do.” Didn't she? She wasn't making excuses; she was waiting for the right time.

“Then trust me. Just do it. Do whatever it is that makes you happy, that makes you whole.”

He made it sound so easy. “Is that what you're doing?”

He was silent for a moment. Maybe she was getting too personal, too heavy, but he'd started it. Hadn't he?

“I don't know.” His eyes were clouded, as if he were seeing something other than the water and mangroves around them. “In some ways I always have, if only out of self-preservation. There wasn't much point in trying to impress my parents. Even if I'd made one happy, the other would have disapproved, just on principle. And I moved too often to make any real friends, let alone worry about impressing them. I guess that was the only good thing about growing up in chaos—you learn to rely on yourself.”

“And now?”

“I don't know. For a little while, I had thought maybe it was time to reach out, build some real relationships. Maybe even settle down with someone special.” He looked out over the water, his body tense. “Obviously, that didn't work out very well, and honestly, I don't think I've got it in me to try anymore.”

* * *

Noah knew his words sounded cold, but there was no point in lying to her. He was done pretending, done trying to be someone he wasn't. He'd done that with Angela, and that hadn't done anyone any good. Besides, Mollie had said she was known for telling it like it is; the least he could do was return the favor. Even if it wasn't what she wanted to hear.

She seemed to consider his words as she scanned the horizon. “So you're just a lone wolf, huh?” She didn't seem upset by the idea; her shoulders were still relaxed, her limbs loose, as she steered the boat away from the main channel and into a narrower, winding section of water. Of course, why should she be? He was just one more temporary tourist to her; his views on life didn't have any importance for her.

“Yup, didn't you hear me out howling at the moon last night?”

She rolled her eyes. “I'll keep that in mind. Not sure I'm ready to break from the pack though. When I go—and I will go—I want to do it right. I don't want to have to come crawling back, tail between my legs, as it were.”

“Being prepared is good,” he conceded. “But there's a fine line between planning and procrastination. When I'm working on a big project, I sometimes find myself bogged down in the details, sketching out every angle when I need to just jump in and trust the details will work themselves out.” He flashed her a grin. “But enough philosophy. Tell me about this place.”

She'd slowed the boat while he was talking, nosing them into a quiet cove surrounded by a dense thicket of low-slung trees, their bare roots making a tangle above and below the clear water. It was like something out of a movie, exotic and yet somehow peaceful, too.

“Well, it's my favorite fishing spot. Other than that, what do you want to know?”

“For starters, what are those?” He pointed to the alien-looking trees that surrounded them. “I didn't know trees could grow in water like that, let alone salt water.”

“Mangroves.” She turned the engine to idle and went to the front of the boat, lifting the heavy anchor and tossing it in with a splash before he could offer to do it for her. “Red mangroves, specifically. Those freaky-looking roots keep them from drowning. Kind of like a house on stilts. And they act like a nursery for all sorts of baby fish, protecting them from bigger predators.”

“And where there are fish, there are things that eat fish.” As if to punctuate his words, a pair of pelicans flopped to a landing atop the nearest bunch of trees.

Mollie followed his gaze, and chuckled. “Exactly. That's why the birds hang out here, and it's why we're here. Should be enough for all of us. Grab a pole, and I'll help you get a line in the water.”

“Don't think I can handle baiting my own hook?” He tried to look offended.

“Can you?”

“Um, maybe? Honestly, that was never my favorite part as a kid.” He probably should be embarrassed by that but he wasn't. He didn't feel the urge to pretend or to try to fit in around Mollie. The sheer relief of just being himself in a place where no one cared who he was or wanted anything from him made the whole trip seem worthwhile. He might not be having the typical honeymoon, but he was definitely having a good time. Even if he didn't know how to put a frozen shrimp on a hook.

Mollie did, though. Sitting on the seat closest to the bait well, she took the sleek black rod with its brass fittings and braced it between her knees, a sight that was way more erotic than it should be. Then she swiftly threaded the hook through a partially thawed shrimp in a figure-eight type motion. “There you go. Now, how about a quick lesson in casting?”