The Apple Tree (Sunday Morning, #2) (21)

“What took you so long?” he asked, offering his hand to help me off the dock and into the boat.

I didn’t need his help, but I liked how my hand fit into his. “You didn’t tell me which dock. And there are three at this lake. I drove to the other two first.”

“Oh, I thought there was only one.” He gave me a half grin. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” I said before nodding to the engine. “Okay. What’s the first step?”

“Oh, you're driving it today?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Yes. What did you think we were doing?”

“Fishing and filleting.”

I shrugged. “Well, show me how to drive the boat, and I’ll take us to the fish; then we can catch and fillet.”

“Okay. First, make sure the engine is fully tilted down like this.”

I nodded.

“Then you need to squeeze this priming bulb until it’s full.”

I squeezed it. “Now what?”

“Make sure the throttle is in neutral.” He showed me that. “Key on. Choke out. Pull the cord.”

I followed his steps. “Ouch!” I grabbed my shoulder after a failed attempt at pulling the cord.

Kyle chuckled. “You have to use your muscles. Do you have any?” He playfully squeezed my upper arm.

I batted his hand away. “It’s not funny,” I said, but I laughed anyway. “Let’s skip the starting part. I just want to drive it.”

“Eve, if you can’t start this boat, I won’t let you fire a gun. And there’s no way you can pull my bow back to shoot an arrow.”

I frowned. “Fine. I’ll try again.” I gripped it harder, and again, it didn’t start, but at least it didn’t hurt my arm as much.

“You’ll flood it if you don’t get it started soon.”

“Yeah, yeah.” On the third attempt, it started. “I did it!”

“Sit. You’re going to fall out of the boat. Let’s try less celebrating and more concentrating.” He showed me how to make it go, how to steer the tiller in the opposite direction from our intended direction, and how to stop when we reached our spot to fish. Despite his repeated eye rolls and smirks, I thought I did a great job.

“Do I need to show you how to put the worm on the hook?”

“No.” I wrinkled my nose. “I know how to fish. My grandpa taught me.”

“But he didn’t teach you how to drive a boat?”

I shook my head, putting the worm on my hook. “He just fished off the dock. Catch and release.”

Kyle cast his line. “That’s all we’ll be doing. I don’t think we’ll catch anything worthy of dinner in this lake.”

We reeled in our lines and cast again.

“I didn’t get a chance to ask what you and Josh did this afternoon,” he said.

“We picked apples, chased butterflies, and then he played in his room while I snooped around in yours,” I said and bit my lip to keep from grinning while my attention stayed on my line.

I felt his gaze on me briefly before he watched his line again. “I know you’re trying to get a reaction out of me, but I also don’t think you’re lying either. You just think I’m going to think that you’re lying. So, did you find anything interesting in my room?”

“Besides your Playboy magazines? No.”

Kyle paused his hands. “July is my favorite.” Then he resumed reeling in his line.

He was right. I tried to disguise the truth as a lie or a joke. I did snoop in his room, and I did find his Playboy magazines.

“I didn’t open any drawers. And I only looked under the mattress just to appease my ridiculous side. I honestly didn’t think you’d have magazines there.” I fought my smile. “I was wrong.”

“The articles are really good.”

I laughed. “Stop.”

He grinned. “It’s true. There was a recent article on AIDS that was well written and thoroughly researched.”

“Is that what you read to Josh at night? Thoroughly researched articles about a deadly virus?”

“No. He just likes to look at the pictures.”

“Coach Collins, you’re a pervert.”

“You mean a hot-blooded man.”

“Oh! I got a bite!” I pulled up on my pole and reeled in the fish.

“Nice one.” Kyle grabbed the fish.

“I can take it off,” I said.

He eyed me with surprise and held my pole while I removed the fish and gently returned it to the lake.

“I should have brought my camera,” Kyle said, handing me my pole.

“Why? So you could take a photo of me and my fish that I couldn’t show anyone because, according to you, this isn’t happening?”

“You’re right. This is our moment. I might not remember the look on your face when it tugged at your line, but I’ll never forget the look on your face when you tried to start the boat.”

“Oh, really? My pain is more memorable to you than my joy?”

“Everything about you is memorable.” As soon as he said the words, he got a look on his face that I would never forget.

Panic.

“I meant entertaining. I find your actions entertaining.”