TARA’S ALARM WENT OFF at four thirty. She groaned and cracked an eye open to view the dark. She wanted to burrow deeper down under the covers and the warm, soft sheets. But she couldn’t. Ryder. Wyatt. They were coming for her. She had plans to do something today. Something pretty new for her.

She put on one of her few outfits—jeans, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes—and poured some coffee into her one and only travel mug and waited. Headlights arced over the house and shone through her windows. She opened the door and found a truck idling outside. It was blue and pulling a boat. It definitely wasn’t Ryder’s game warden truck. He got out and walked towards her as a soft drizzle began to fall and she shivered.

“I brought rain clothes for you and a coat. Go ahead and get in.”

She ducked into the cab, catching Wyatt’s electric grin as her head poked through. “Hey, Wyatt.”

“Tara! Hey.” He was a jolt of caffeine all on his own. Setting her coffee into the console cup holder, she tucked her feet in. Ryder glanced over his shoulder before backing out of the driveway. He had to flip the trailer to one side before getting it straight on the street. They were very quiet in the dark of night. After only a ten-minute drive, Wyatt was happily unstrapping his seatbelt and bouncing out of the parked truck. “Yes! Yes, let’s go. Fish on.”

Tara smiled as she glanced at Ryder. His grin was visible in the overhead light of the truck. Headlights cut through the darkness out front. “He likes to fish.”

“I can see that.” Tara chuckled as she got out and followed Wyatt around the back towards the boat. It was a metal boat with white striping. Ryder lifted Wyatt in first and then nodded at her, saying, “Go ahead and get in.”

She used the handle to pull her body weight up and lifted a leg over the bow of the boat before landing on her feet. Walking through the open windshield, she used the step to duck into the body of the boat. Fishing poles stuck up from several different rod holders on a metal tower that ran across the middle of the boat. A canvas cover snapped onto the window, featuring sides and a back with a door. Wyatt was very busy since he obviously knew the drill. He clicked a small lever near the steering wheel and lights flipped on along the sides of the boat as well as the back. There was enough light to see when he lifted the bench seats and dug around the box beneath them before popping up with a camo-colored life jacket. He tossed her a red one. Without a qualm, he snapped his over his chest. “You can have my seat, Tara, since it’s your first time fishing. Have you ever been in a boat before?”

She glanced up and Ryder leaned over the side, his forearms resting there as he continued listening to them. She shook her head. “No, I’ve never been on a boat before.”

“Really? How’s that possible?” Wyatt’s eyes were huge.

“It’s possible,” she said, smiling.

Ryder pointed towards a box on the other side of the boat. “There’re some coats of mine inside there. Grab whichever one fits the best.”

She leaned over to inspect the contents of the box and so did Wyatt. While rooting around, they found two warm coats on top and below those, some rain gear. Tara picked the same coat she wore the day when it rained. His game warden coat. She slung it over her shoulder and huddled inside the lining, letting her body heat warm it up. Despite the lifejacket, his huge coat managed to fit over it all. Tara sat in the passenger seat while Ryder jumped into the cab and shifted the truck back into gear. Wyatt sat in the driver’s seat on the boat. Puzzled, Tara watched Ryder deftly whip the truck and boat trailer around until he lined it up and slowly backed down a steep, concrete ramp. The boat bounced on the grooved concrete and Tara clung to the handle that was installed just below the glove box. Wyatt blissfully pretended to steer the boat back and forth. Water splashed up when the rear wheels hit the surface. Tara gulped as the boat lights reflected off the water. It looked so deep and swirling, and it totally surrounded them. The dock was on the driver’s side, but on hers? Just river water rushing past. They were in a back eddy and she gripped the door handle tightly. What now? Ryder stopped, then he walked back and unhooked the front of the boat from the trailer. He backed in the truck a little further. Then he came back again, sloshing right through the water before he pulled himself onto the bow of the boat. He was wearing waders when he came down the stairs, dripping water, and Wyatt scrambled to get out of his way. Water streamed on the floor from his boots. He glanced at her. “Doing okay?”

“Um… not used to being near water in the dark.”

“Can you swim?” His grin looked huge. She knew he was teasing her and she struggled to ignore the nerves that were coursing through her.

“Only in a pool.”

Laughing, Ryder plopped down in the chair and started the boat up. It ignited with a loud rumble that seemed to vibrate through her body. Glancing back, he gave the boat some throttle and pulled it off the trailer until they were gliding over the water in the darkness. He stood up and unsnapped the cover in order to see out, she assumed. Steering it gently back and close beside the dock, he aligned the bow. Then he left it idling as he jumped through the windshield, over the bow and onto the dock, where he tied it up. There they sat, idling in the dark water. Tara gulped down the huge knot of fear in her throat while Wyatt jabbered away. He played with the fishing lures while talking to himself. The truck disappeared when Ryder drove it off and parked it and finally, after several minutes, Ryder could be seen walking down the dock, only this time, without waders on. He untied the rope, jumped back in the boat and grabbed a lifejacket that was hanging on his seat, which he put on. Glancing over his shoulder, he idled the boat as he gradually moved backwards and then right out of the dark area.

“You warm enough?” asked Ryder.

“So far,” Tara said, staring around.

He nodded. “Ready?”

“I guess so…”

Taking off, the boat’s prow parted the water as they skimmed rapidly over the surface and zoomed past the land and trees. A huge crane took off in the predawn light. Daylight was breaking far off on the horizon. Ryder pulled up into a lineup of a dozen or more boats. Tara blinked in surprise when he drove his boat right between two others, idling between them. Ryder kept the boat steady and straight when he jumped inside the bow, clanking around with the large, hooked anchor resting on the floor. He pulled the chain and then the rope and a large buoy attached to the system appeared. He gently dipped the anchor into the water, let it go and sat on the steps of the bow, still manning the steering wheel. As he idled backwards, Ryder gently fed the rope until the anchor eventually caught. They were parked right in line with six other boats. Not too close to bump each other, but closer than she could have probably parallel parked a car. He tugged on the line before clipping and tying off the rope somehow. Wyatt, meanwhile, was doing his chores on the boat. Tara was impressed by their obviously well-rehearsed routine.

Ryder shut the windshield and buttoned up the top canvas. He turned the boat off and let the quiet reign supreme as they floated there. The current was strong, rushing past the boat and making periodic thunking sounds against the metal hull.

Tara saw all kinds of movement when both father and son went to the back of the boat, beyond the canvas door. They began by pulling fishing poles down off the different storage spots and getting out pole holders, which they attached to the boat. There were some curved silver things with hooks attached to them, that Ryder called quick fish lures as he tied them to the lines. The lines were put into the water before Ryder finally walked towards her.

“And now we wait.”

Sleepiness made Tara’s eyelids heavy. That’s it? We got up super early just to stare out the back of the boat? It wasn’t that she didn’t like the boat. She enjoyed the boat ride and in the daylight, probably would have adored zipping up and down the river and catching all the sights. But in the dark? Not so much. Too scary. She kept picturing an errant log bumping into them and sinking their boat to the bottom of the river. Never mind all the scary, shark-like fish and snake-like eels lurking in the depths. Wyatt played with the bait that was in the back. The cold did not seem to affect him in the least. The breaking dawn brightened the sky as the drizzle retreated, leaving broken-up clouds and the day finally began.

“Donuts?”

She glanced over to see Ryder holding out a box of store-bought donuts. Cringing, she nevertheless took one and ate it. Ryder ate several and leaned back. How could he eat all the food that he did and not weigh as much as Gary at the café? Tara found plenty to watch with all the other boats around. The passengers on the ones without covers huddled together against the steady breeze that kept Tara shivering.

“You cold?”

She glanced up and nodded. Ryder got up and opened a small door that opened up to under the front of the boat. He brought some stuff out, then put more back in before sitting back and clicking something. A propane heater started up. Within minutes, the small area was snug and warm in the dry heat. Tara sighed, feeling much happier.

“How were you able to… to park so close to the other boats?”

“The hog lines here? This is nothing. You should see it on a Saturday morning. Since this is a Wednesday, there are just locals, retirees, and river guides. Had lots of practice doing it.”

“Hog lines?”

“Boats lined up in a row to fish… Unless some idiot comes along and anchors up above or below us and messes with it. Makes it so we have to fight in order to fish around them or get caught up in their lines… If you wait long enough, some asshole will screw up the anchors… You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve witnessed here. And cited people for, I might add. Some of it isn’t even funny.”

Barely a half hour later, Ryder leaned over and stared out at the water, starting to grumble. He got up and walked to the back of the boat. Wyatt was inside with Tara and kept up a nonstop monologue of all the fish he and his dad caught, how they caught them, and the bait they used. Tara listened intently at first, but eventually her head lost interest in his narrative. Wow, could he talk a lot.

“Damn idiot,” Ryder was outside, muttering to himself. Tara emerged from the little cocoon. He pointed out towards a boat that was running across the hog line above them. “Instead of just pulling it out by hand, like he should in such a crowded spot, he’s trying to pull it up by running out, but he’s running right over ours. If he doesn’t catch ours, or that black boat’s, I’ll be shocked.” Then, to her surprise, he cupped his hands over his mouth and started yelling loudly. “Watch out! Hey!” He waved his arms before releasing a long groan. The boat didn’t pay any attention to him. Turning, he sighed. “Start reeling up, Wyatt.”

Wyatt jumped into action and started reeling in all the poles. Tara took the hint and followed suit, placing the long black pole against the engine doghouse. Just then, as Ryder predicted, they were being dragged. Ryder swore loudly before running up to the bow and freeing them from the anchor. Starting the boat up, he idled away from the other boats around them. The boat driven by the idiots got tangled up in Ryder’s anchor rope so they tried pulling it up. Their boat rocked back and forth as they kept moving ahead, and they all seemed to panic.

“Christ, they’re going to get caught in their own anchor rope. That’s how boats go under.” Ryder kept muttering under his breath as he drove clear of the entire mess. Pulling over towards them, he cut the engine, yelling out to the troublemakers and their now endangered boat, “Cut your rope! Cut your anchor rope!”

Inextricably, the bumbling three stooges on board and their swirling boat were not only tangled up in Ryder’s anchor rope but now heading into the hog line again. The two boats that were beside Ryder’s also unhooked themselves from the hog line and idled off into the current. It was breathtaking. “If I were working right now, I’d arrest these idiots. Just look at them. They’re going to kill themselves,” Ryder said.

“Can they capsize?”

“All it takes is for them to get their rope caught around their own engine.” Finally, the inept boaters cut their anchor, losing it into the depths of the river. Once that was done, they zoomed out of there, taking off at full throttle and leaving a wake that bobbed and swirled the rest of the boats left behind. For the next hour, all the boats, including Ryder’s, were buzzing around the area, grabbing anchor ropes and setting everyone back up. Ryder had to hand-pull his anchor, idle up to the line, and reset it. Finally, they reset all the poles in the holders and returned to fishing. But the whole thing was exciting to Tara. She learned about all the different boats that had capsized over the years around there, which were usually caused by the errors of fishermen.

After another two hours of conversation, with plenty of interjections from Wyatt, who was obviously privy to the familiar stories and loved sharing them with a new audience, they were suddenly interrupted. The fishing pole was making a zinging sound as the fish line spun off the reel. The rod was bent like a rainbow with the tip buried towards the water. “Fish on!” Wyatt exclaimed, drawing plenty of gazes from the other fishermen around them. Ryder hastily ran back to the pole and pulled on it as Wyatt yelled, “Set the hook. Set the hook.”

Ryder smiled, doing whatever set the hook meant, and pulling the line back. “Big one. Come here, Tara.”

“Me?” She stood off to the side, big-eyed and incredulous. Ryder was grinning. He looked so happy, it surprised her. How could this bring such excitement to a grown man’s face? Without comprehending the appeal for such a hobby, she walked over and stood next to Ryder.

“Take the pole and hold on tight, it’s a big one.”

He kept his arms around her as she spun towards the back of the boat. They were pointed downriver and she lifted her hands to clasp the corkscrewed grip of the pole. He kept his hands on it, around hers. “Got a good hold?” he asked. His voice was right on the side of her face and his breath felt warm on her cheek. She nodded, bracing her arms and planting her feet. He let go but stayed right there for a moment. He didn’t seem too confident she really had it. Eventually, he stepped back. “Pull up when you can, and then reel down towards the water, as far down as you can. Keep doing that over and over. Try to keep the line tight. Give it any slack and it could get off.”

“It’s a hog!” Wyatt screamed when the fish broke the surface. It did a quick but spectacular jump and came down with a splash. Voices of the other fishermen oohed and aahed around them and Tara sensed a whole bunch of men’s eyes on her. There wasn’t another woman fishing in the whole line, at least none that she could see.

“Is it? A—a hog?” she asked Ryder, unsure of the lingo around there. Seemed a whole new thing. Ryder was smiling and staring back at the line with his hands on his hips.

“Oh, yeah.”

“I—I don’t think I should be doing this. You take it. I’ll lose it… I’ll ruin it. Take it.” Her voice rose with audible distress.

Ryder’s smile faded as his gaze returned to her and he shook his head. “There’s no fun in that. You’re the newbie, bring it on in, Tara.”

“I can’t. You’ll get mad.” She tried pulling up, but it barely moved. It was heavier and much harder than she had imagined.

“Not if you bring it in,” he said, grinning and winking at her. He was visibly enjoying himself.

She tried pulling up again. “I can’t get it.”

“It had some strong runs, it’ll get tired. You’ll win. Stick with it, Tara.”

She kept trying to pull up and reel down. Finally, gnashing her teeth, she nearly screeched with frustration, “Take it! I can’t do this.”

He watched her eyebrows shoot up in surprise with her passionate denial and annoyed voice. He stepped up right behind her, circling his arms around her again as he helped to steady the pole. Then he raised it up high and held on tight, saying into her ear, “Now, reel. There. That’s it. You were doing it right all along.”

She was caught off guard by his close proximity. The heat it unleashed in her made her cheeks flush as her stomach knotted. However, the fish tugged on the line again and that swiftly refocused her attention. She held on tight and reeled it in as he coached her. He smiled. “There. See? You can do it. It’s tired and should come right in now.”

He stayed close and kept encouraging her. Then she saw a shadow in the water, coming closer to the boat. Ryder pulled out a net that he stored on the side of the boat. He held it straight up. Only then did she glance around and realize they had floated further downriver. When or how did he unhook them from the anchor? The small motor at the back was running and zipping back and forth but no one was steering it. What the hell?

“How is that thing steering us?” Tara asked, nodding towards it and momentarily distracted.

“Auto-pilot.” Ryder held up a controller. He controlled it by remote? She had no idea.

Tara thought she won the struggle but the fish suddenly turned and darted away. Ryder and Wyatt were yelling at her, telling her to switch sides of the boat. Ryder helped her hold onto the pole as she moved over the doghouse and kept it clear of the engines out at the back. There was whooping and hollering from Wyatt and even Ryder. She repeated that move again, going back until Ryder shouted at her, “Get up on the doghouse!”

She hardly knew what that meant in this context, only from hearing him and Wyatt refer to it earlier. Reacting to his commanding tone, she jumped on the cover over the loud engine and pulled up hard as the fish finally broke the surface. Ryder leaned over the side and scooped it up with his net. Her entire body wilted as Wyatt giggled with glee.

“Is it wild? Is it wild?” Wyatt chanted, leaning over to stare in the net that was still in the water. “Ah, it’s so big, it’s probably wild.”

“What does that mean? Bring it in!” She was shocked at all the excitement she heard in her voice, not just Wyatt’s. From her perch, she frowned as she watched Ryder trying to grab the squirming fish and Ryder glanced up at her.

“Have to make sure this back fin here is clipped. That indicates it’s a hatchery fish. Not allowed to keep wilds this year.”

“Is it?” Tara had never expected having to do all that for nothing. But Ryder lifted it into the boat and Wyatt let out another whoop! that instantly drew the attention of the other boaters. They’d been weaving in and out of the hog line on their mission to land the fish. Several hand waves, fist bumps and loud whoops! were addressed towards them. It felt kind of cool, Tara realized as she stood up, feeling like the queen of the boat. She jumped down and stared at the fish, which was huge. A monster. A hog, as Wyatt had called it.

Blood trickled from its mouth and Ryder leaned over it, using pliers to pull the hook out. After twisting back and forth, he managed to tug it loose. Then he grabbed a baton-like object that was hooked on the doghouse and smacked it over the fish’s head. Tara scowled and gasped before looking away. Gross! But in no time at all, she was looking at it again.

Ryder laughed at her squeamish scowl. “More humane to kill it.” Lifting it by the tail out of the net, he called to Wyatt, who began maneuvering the net out of the way. “Grab the scale, Wyatt.”

Wyatt came back and handed the device to Ryder. Ryder hooked it into the salmon’s mouth and then let it go, his muscles straining as he hoisted it up for several seconds before putting it down. “Damn, woman. Way to show us all up.”

Her curiosity piquing, Tara stared at the shiny, silver fish. It was at least half the length of Ryder and nearly as big as Wyatt. “It’s a big one?”

Ryder grabbed a bucket and put water in it before setting it down. He peeked at her quickly, standing up straight as he said, “This is a trophy catch, Tara. Thirty-three pounds. Honestly, I haven’t caught one like this in ten years.”

Tara jumped down, carefully avoiding all the slime, scales, and blood of the fish getting on her body parts. It had a strong aroma to it. She could only stare at Ryder holding it up, letting some of its huge body rest on the floor. “You’re going to have to take a picture. This is epic.”

Epic? Huh, Tara was really never epic at anything, much less reeling in a fish.

“You want me to touch it?” Her nose wrinkled up at the prospect. Ryder set the fish down and chuckled as he leaned over the side of his boat and washed his hands off. He dried his hands on his pant legs and walked over to the steering wheel, coming back with his phone. He took a few pictures with the net beside it to give it better perspective. Then Wyatt lay down right next to it. Tara shuddered. Right there, on top of the fish scales and dribbles of goo and blood. Oh, yuck. Boys were so yucky. Big and little boys and men were all kind of disgusting.

Then Ryder went over to the ice chest and came back and handed her a pair of blue gloves. “Here. Wear these.” She glared at him, but put the gloves on. “Put your hands around this.” She closed her eyes, grimacing when she felt the weight of the fish he handed to her. Grunting, she leaned forward, trying to hold it. Ryder’s phone came up for a second and he muttered, “Got it.”

Tara let the fish fall to the deck. The next job was shared by Ryder and Wyatt. They began working in tandem to clean up the back of the boat by putting the fish into a bucket of river water and letting it bleed out, they informed her. She shuddered at the sight of it. Ryder used a hose that sucked up river water to spray down the back end of the boat along with all the goo and blood, which was swiftly washed away. She had no idea there was such an elaborate process to fishing. They tootled the boat back up to the buoy and Ryder used a hook to grab the rope attached to it so he could hook the boat up and go through everything again, dropping lines in the water, etc… only the waiting period was zero. They caught four more fish over the next hour, one of which was wild. It was a large one, weighing in the twenties and Ryder said they had to turn it loose. Tara surprised herself by feeling actually disappointed. Wyatt reeled in the next one, and she assumed Ryder would have too, but he kept encouraging her to reel them in. It became strangely fun in no time at all. The exhilaration of finally scooping up the fish with the net and the chorus of exclamations that followed delighted Tara and she felt a real part of it.

They were red hot. The hog line had each boat catching at least one springer, while above that, they didn’t catch nearly as many. After they each caught their limit, they motored back toward the boat launch. Before loading the boat, Ryder cleaned all three fish off the back of the boat. Wyatt was right there helping, by taking the fish parts and guts and playing with them or tossing them out into the water. Tara shuddered more at seeing all the nastiness on his hands. Wyatt quickly picked up on her squeamishness. He started threatening her with various fish parts and pretending to touch her or grab her hair, making her screech and squeal as she jumped into the bow to hide from him. Ryder’s teeth flashed with smiles while he worked, obviously enjoying the show she and Wyatt were putting on. Every so often, he admonished Wyatt if he went too far. Tara was being loud. Thunderous, noisy, screaming, and screeching from all the excitement of catching fish and Wyatt’s taunts and threats. It was unprecedented for Tara to be all those things… and having fun while doing it. And all the while Ryder smiled with pleasure as she did so. Which released warm, fuzzy feelings inside her chest. She loved the day she’d spent with these two.

That was probably the most profound thing of all. She was having such a blast, she forgot to notice herself or what she said. The reserved wall was gone. For once, it was completely absent and she had a thrilling time with Wyatt… and Ryder.

Oddly enough, it seemed like they were having just as much fun with her on board the boat.

Finally, all the fish were cleaned and stowed. Ryder loaded the boat on the trailer in minutes flat. That was pretty impressive. She jumped out of the boat and walked down the ramp and dock to stare at what was too dark for her to see earlier. The Columbia swooshed by in its rapid current. Across the channel, she spotted an island covered in evergreens and huge cottonwoods that were lighter in color than the emerald conifers.

She glanced up when Ryder approached her from behind. “What is that? I’ve noticed it before but I just didn’t realize until I was standing below it how big it was.” She pointed at the large rock hovering over the river to her left.

“Beacon Rock. There’s a hiking trail there; we should do it sometime. The views are not to be believed.”

“How tall is it?”

He blew the air from his cheeks. “Let’s see, I believe I knew the answer to that question at one time. I think it is over eight hundred feet tall. Second largest single rock in the northern hemisphere. Popular hiking spot too. Once in a while, we catch people who sneak up there to hang glide from it.”

“This area is full of so much to see and do.”

“Columbia River Gorge National Scenic Area. There’s the Bridge of the Gods and the Gorge Amphitheatre and windsurfing, hiking, fishing… as you just witnessed. It’s a good place to live.”

She smiled up at him. Who knew she’d find a good place to live?

“So what did you think of fishing? I know it isn’t anything you’re used to… and as you saw for yourself, not a lot of women follow the sport, but…”

Glancing up at his face, she could tell he hadn’t shaved. Whiskers covered his chin and cheeks. One hand was hooked behind his neck and he was rubbing it. What pleased her most was her sense that he was unsure of how she would respond, and he cared about her response.

“I loved the boat ride.”

“Yeah? We could take you for a proper cruise sometime. Some pretty waterfalls further downriver.”

“I would like that very much.” Her tone was more formal than usual, but her smile was bigger than he’d seen before. She glanced up at him again. “I wasn’t sure at first and then… well, truthfully, I thought it was kinda gross, until… I started to get it. I was so worried I’d lose it and I did not want to make you mad if I lost it because I wanted to catch it by then.”

“Really?” His smile was huge… and boyish. It made her heart flutter. Her answer seriously seemed to please him.

“Really.” She matched his grin, adding, “Thank you for taking me. This is all strange to me. But really amazing too. So… often you’re out there”—she waved towards the water—“in a professional manner?”

“Yeah, checking the boats and lures, and the hooks and licenses. When we pull in with our official boats, you should see some of the scrambling that goes on. People, mostly decent people that are just slightly breaking rules, almost always give themselves away by trying to act nonchalantly. Like this fisherman who kept a wild salmon instead of letting it go. He was acting all fidgety and worried, which is so obvious. Or the family that was using barbed hooks when barb-less hooks are required. It’s almost predictable. Real criminals give nothing away.”

They started to walk back towards the shore as they spoke. Between the dock and the truck Wyatt appeared, grabbing Tara’s hand unexpectedly. His fat little hand felt clammy and she cringed, picturing all the dead fish guts he’d been messing with earlier. But she was more intrigued that he so casually grabbed her hand before entering a long discussion about the fish he caught, how he reeled it in, and how monstrous it was. He used his hands and entire body to illustrate his fish story.

They had to separate their hands to get into the truck. As they drove, Ryder’s phone kept dinging with new text messages. He glanced at them and chuckled. Finally, Tara’s curiosity made her ask, “Why’s your phone blowing up? Work? Is there some kind of emergency?”

“You.”

She turned fully towards him and stuck her hand on her chest. “Me? What about me?”

“Well, actually, it’s the giant fish you’re holding.”

“You texted that out?”

“Tara, you’re holding Walter. Yeah, I sent it around, bragging rights and all. And our limits landed before… what is it? Two o’clock? Not normal. Trust me.”

“Walter?”

His lips tilted up. “I forget how new you are to the area. Just our way of saying the ‘elusive big fish.’ In this case, salmon.”

“So my fish made you kind of a star?”

“Wellll… yes, mostly.” He stretched out his tone.

“Well, what else?”

“That and you’re hot and they want to know who the hell you are. So between the two, I’m kind of a star for today.”

Her gaze whipped up to his and his lips flashed a little grin. He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t turn to look at her. “Quit staring so hard or your eyeballs will pop out. Surely you must’ve noticed you’re blonde and young and… well, all the things that guys consider… attractive in the opposite sex.”

She glanced back. Wyatt was staring out the window, obviously uninterested in their conversation.

She assumed Ryder was referring to her relatively large-sized breasts in comparison to the rest of her figure. She wasn’t a very big girl after spending years starving herself while she danced competitively from the age of eleven until she was seventeen. That was before her starving became full-blown anorexia, for which she was hospitalized. Not long afterward, she chose to forget it all by running away. Being hungry without having access to any food quickly changed her entire perception toward eating. It was easy to stay thin without regular meals. Ryder didn’t act or even seem to notice she was female, young or even close to being “hot.”

“Wh-what are you telling them? Who am I?”

“The new server that works at Chloe’s. Expect some more business soon.” He flashed a bright grin her way. What was that? She could have sworn he was flirting with her. But no. Ryder didn’t flirt. He was civil and polite and so nice. Never flirty.

As he spoke, his phone dinged two more times. He glanced at the callers, then back at the road. “But don’t underestimate the general interest in that fish.”

She rolled her eyes and Ryder laughed. “So… you’ll have to come over for dinner and eat Walter with us. There is no way you can’t after all you accomplished today. He’s all yours.”

“Yeah. Tara, come for dinner,” Wyatt exclaimed from the back.

A fleeting thrill shot through her body. They wanted her company. She nodded her consent. It wasn’t like she had anything more pressing to do or attend to. “I’d like that. I don’t often eat fresh salmon.” Not since she abandoned her life of luxury as a Tamasy.

He was already driving home, she realized, when seconds later, he took a left off the main highway and followed a twisting road. After exiting onto a gravel driveway that crossed a stand of trees, the road opened up to more fields that were rimmed in more trees. Up ahead stood a white farmhouse with a porch and a roomy swing. A large, well-maintained red barn abutted the house and stood somewhat taller. It was nothing less than lovely, set against the rural land and featuring far off glimpses of the Columbia River as it gleamed across the rolling empty land, hills, and mountains.

He swung around and quickly backed the boat up inside the open doors of the barn until he was satisfied with its placement. They both got out, and Wyatt bounded eagerly towards the house. Tara followed Ryder, walking to the tailgate of his truck as he undid chains, wire and finally the ball hitch of the boat trailer before detaching it from his truck. He glanced up, catching her gaze and smiling pleasantly.

She smiled back and her stomach churned again. Whipping around, she felt grateful when Wyatt called her name. She walked quickly out of the barn to find Wyatt playing with a black labrador retriever that came padding up to Tara, wagging her tail in a calm, friendly greeting. Tara leaned down and rubbed the sleek, black fur. “Aren’t you beautiful?” The dog wagged her tail again at Tara’s soft voice and gentle rubbing of her ears.

“That’s Daisy,” Wyatt informed her. He took her hand and led her inside before taking her all around their house. It was old-fashioned, but recently updated. It was so pleasant to Tara’s eyes; she wanted to burrow inside there and never leave it. She wondered if she could be happy there. The door slammed shut behind them eventually and Ryder’s tall form filled the doorway. It made her stomach drop again when their gazes met and neither of them flinched or moved. Tara was confused by all the… the… energy that seemed to be radiating between them.

“Did you do all this work?”

“Yes. I chink away at it. It’s old. It used to be Ebony’s grandparents’ house.”

“Oh. That’s… that’s really lovely.” Tara turned away so he couldn’t see the pain flashing through her eyes. Grandparents helping their offspring? Imagine her grandfather… No! The money-grubbing old bastard could never lovingly be thought of as her grandpa.

“Yeah, we couldn’t have touched it on my salary. I like having all the space for Wyatt to run and play.” He passed by her, carrying, she realized, the ice chest. He heaved it up on the kitchen counter.

“Wanna play checkers, Tara?” Wyatt called from the stairs, wedging his face between the staircase newels.

She smiled. “I’d love to play checkers. Unless your dad needs some help with dinner?”

“Nope. You caught it, I’ll fix it. By the way, do you know how to cook fish?”

“Not a clue.” She grinned. “I can’t cook more than a box of noodles. Instructions required.”

Tara spent the next hour playing checkers with Wyatt and later, Candy Land and Go Fish. Ryder prepared the huge fillet and put it on the barbecue while rice and peas boiled away on the stovetop. She sat at the kitchen table with Wyatt and discreetly watched Ryder as he cooked the dinner before he vacuum-packed the rest of the fish and put it in the freezer. Finally, he sat down beside them, saying, “I have time for one game of Candy Land. That’s just enough for me to whip the butts off you two.”

And he did too. He won. Easily. But it was the most fun Tara ever had losing. Ryder kidded his son in a gentle, fun manner and used a harsher, edgier way when he teased her. He was so competitive and that made her laugh, considering he was playing a child’s game. As he stretched out after the win, he asked, “You want some wine with dinner?”

“Yes. Sure.”

Had she ever simply drunk a glass of wine with another adult? No! She’d been living on the streets for awhile when she turned twenty-one. It wasn’t like she celebrated that birthday by having a drink out with loved ones and friends. He got up and opened a bottle of chardonnay, setting one glass down before her and pouring his own. Wyatt ran off into the living room and took out a box of Legos. He sat down and started creating structures and soon became rapidly lost in them. She smiled at him, saying, “He’s something. That voice of his… it always makes me smile and feel happy whenever I hear it.”

“Yeah. I’ve been told he should have his own sitcom between his voice and his looks. He’s pretty perfect.”

Her heart warmed as Ryder’s eyes sparkled with all the care and love that he reserved for his son playing in the next room. He leaned back and swirled the wine in the glass before swallowing a large gulp. No sipping or appearing all proper and sophisticated for him. “Wyatt’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Tara swallowed another sip of wine. It was easily making her head spin all around. She hadn’t drunk very much alcohol in her life so she had very little tolerance for it. It did its job of loosening her tongue, something she rarely experienced. It also prompted her to ask unfiltered questions. “Were—were you married to his mom for very long?”

His gaze popped up, probably surprised she wanted to engage him in conversation. “Ebony? Yes. We were married for three years before we had Wyatt.”

“Chloe told me she… I mean, why she’s not here anymore.”

He set the wine glass down. “I know. She told me too.”

Tara flushed. “Oh.”

Ryder leaned forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. “Chloe and I became pretty close after Ebony left. We both missed her and couldn’t reconcile what could have made Ebony do that. Chloe looks exactly like her. You can’t imagine how much. Even I could hardly tell them apart. It… it was a little odd to see her face around here still, especially when the person I married… is gone.”

She wondered what Ryder meant by “pretty close” although she shut her brain down and refused to devote any thoughts to it. It certainly did not matter to her what the history between Chloe and Ryder was. But the wine seemed to loosen the trap door that usually stayed tightly shut between her brain and her voice. “You and Chloe…?” Her tone implied sex even if she hadn’t.

He jerked his gaze back to her. “No. No! Not that close. Like, she’s my sister-in-law kind of close. God, uh, no! I couldn’t sleep with my wife’s identical twin. That’d be sick and wrong and…”

Tara slouched, her face now burning with shame. “I’m sorry. It’s just how you said it… and I’ve been drinking now… and, and I rarely drink. Or… or even talk to anyone. I’m a loner and have been for years. I think I forgot how it feels to be… normal.” She eventually finished her stilted conversation and hung her head in shame.

Ryder grunted. “Honestly, Tara? I have noticed that. You should have seen your face when you realized who Wyatt’s father was.”

“I was surprised it turned out to be you. As in, you, the cop.”

“I could tell. Your eyes got huge; you don’t conceal many emotions. You weren’t so much surprised that it was me, the cop, as you were surprised that I was white.”

Heat that was so much hotter and pervasive filled up her face and chest. Her clothes felt suddenly too tight. She nearly gulped down the anxiety she felt. “Well… I mean, Wyatt… and Chloe…” She gave up and shrugged. “You’re right, I was.”

His smile was fast. “Your reaction is the norm, and not the exception. We’re used to it.”

“You two… you get along very well.”

His smile was soft as he gazed at Wyatt. Tara tried to swallow the sudden lump that lodged in her throat. Imagine her father ever once having that kind of sentiment towards her. “Yeah. We do pretty well.”

“Is it hard? I mean, being a single father?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know, we manage to figure it all out. I get a lot of help from both Ebony’s and my family. That takes a lot of the pressure off.”

She shook her head. “I can’t imagine bearing that kind of responsibility. I can barely support myself.”

“Well, once it happens, you really don’t have a choice. And when you love someone like I love Wyatt, it’s pure pleasure.”

“That’s about the best attitude I’ve ever heard toward kids. I wish…”

“What? What do you wish?” He had a way of looking right into her eyes, as if he seriously cared what she had to say. It disconcerted her. Something she was not used to.

She looked off to the corner of the room, ordering her heart not to care. “That one of my parents, either my father or mother, felt that way towards me.”

“Emotionally unavailable parents?” he asked finally.

She shrugged. “They didn’t beat me or anything like that. I mean, I was not an abused child or anything. They were just kind of… mean.” Stingy. Rude. Awful, actually, but it wasn’t something she felt like discussing. Especially right now. It might lead to more questions like where were they now? And why was she here?

“Mean? That’s pretty shitty coming from parents. I can’t imagine how anyone could be mean to their kids, I really can’t. Sometimes, I speak too sharply, which I do when I’m irritated or trying to discipline… you know, as a parent, and later, I usually apologize because I’m feeling so awful and guilty for it.”

“Apologize?” she snorted. “My parents would have to reprimand me first. Never. No matter what they did or didn’t do, never would they admit I had any feelings they had to deal with or be responsible for, let alone apologize to me. They never apologized… for anything.”

“That’s cold. I can’t imagine treating your own kid that way.”

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

“Being a father? A parent? The sole provider and caregiver for an entire human being’s body, soul, mind, behavior, and emotions? I can’t imagine all that pressure.”

He chuckled and wiped his mouth after another huge gulp of wine. “Well, when you describe it like that, I should be elevated to sainthood.” He shook his head, grinning at her. “It’s much smaller than that. That might be the end goal and the desired results, but you handle it by taking one day at a time. I knew so little about babies. I had to learn. But eventually, you learn what your baby is like and grow with them as a parent. Confidence sets in later and you realize it’s your child and you love them, so you start to know what is best for them and what they need the most. I don’t know the answers. I don’t have a child psychology degree and I never read much about childrearing. I just do it. Each day.

“Wyatt gets up and we interact and I do whatever feels right. Some things are obvious: baths, feeding, clean clothes, and plenty of food and water. Monitoring the inventory and teaching Wyatt how to start sustaining himself just naturally developed for me. The harder part is knowing at what age to say certain things. How should I explain his mother’s absence? How much is too much information for a child? How much is too little? Those things are what I stress over. But I usually say whatever feels right, and gauge his reaction. I know my child, inside and out, better than anyone else in the world, so that makes it easier than, say, someone like you, who is just meeting him.”

She sipped the wine. “I love your description. I’ve never heard such a theory before. I think my parents never developed the love part. Even unwanted and unplanned children often end up being loved by their parents. Mine didn’t.”

He reached out and touched her hand, laying on the table. “I’m sorry. That’s a tough, bitter pill for me to imagine anybody starting out with.”

She squeezed his hand back, turning red as she did so. “I love knowing that you won’t do that to Wyatt. Despite how his mom left him.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “No child deserves parents who don’t want them or can’t love them enough to stay around and raise them. I can’t undo the damage Ebony’s decision could have had on him and will continue to do to him. But I try my hardest to mitigate the effects and compensate for it.”

She stared him right in the eye. “It will, Ryder. If I had even one person, a parent or grandparent, who loved me and cared for me and wanted me like you do Wyatt, I’m sure I’d be a different person and my childhood would have been much better than just tolerable.”

He tilted his head with a small nod. “Thank you for the compliment. Sometimes, I doubt if I can really undo all the damage. But maybe you’re right, I can sure as hell minimize it.”

“Just your desire is enough, trust me. Wyatt knows on a subconscious level that you want him to live the best life ever. That will mean something to him when he’s old enough to fully understand what Ebony failed to do.”

Wyatt ran up then and planted himself on his dad’s lap. Ryder grinned as he tucked an arm around his waist and tickled his tummy. Wyatt giggled, grabbing his dad’s hand and turning towards Tara as he started chatting again. She was instantly charmed and easily engaged him. This time, her self-consciousness with Wyatt started to melt. He was really just a little person. If she followed the theory that Ryder had explained and watched Wyatt’s cues, she might be able to gauge his understanding and learn how she should react and interact with him.

And it didn’t hurt that she was falling in love with the kid.

They ate the fish and it seemed to melt in Tara’s mouth. It tasted so good with the clear, crisp chardonnay, rice, and peas. All the flavors complimented each other. Wyatt roped them into another game before they tackled the dishes and several yawns escaped from her mouth. Ryder caught her and said while grinning, “I think we’d better take Tara home before she falls asleep on us, Wyatt.”

Wyatt giggled as he leaned over the lower dishwasher rack, setting the plates in carefully. It was obvious Ryder and Wyatt did everything together and quite often. The routine they shared was always in sync.

It turned out to be the most fun, pleasantly surprising day Tara had spent in years… maybe ever. It would live inside her for a long time. Her heart was full and swollen with these two males. They were so oddly sweet, cute, and funny together.

They pulled into her driveway and Tara glanced at Wyatt first, saying, “Night, Wyatt. Thanks for letting me tag along with you and your dad… and for all the butt-whipping you gave me playing the games.”

“See you at the café, Tara. Bye.”

She smiled and glanced at Ryder. “Thank you so much for the entire day.”

“Thank you for catching the season’s big one. Gives good mojo to our boat, huh, Wyatt?”

“Yup.”

She exited from the car and began working the key in the basement door when she heard Ryder’s voice behind her. He startled her. “Tara?”

She turned towards him. “Yes?” They were hidden from the truck and the street by the shrubbery that filled the yard. The door was on the side of the house. Ryder was right there behind her. Her heart fluttered again when he didn’t answer at first. He stared down and swiped his foot back and forth. Then he sighed and again, rubbed the back of his neck. “Would you, ah... hell, it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Done what?”

“Asked someone out.”

Her eyes must have bugged out because he shrugged, dropping his hand from his neck and burying it into his jean pocket. “So? Do you want to go out on a date? With me? Without Wyatt? Or… any other wildlife?”

“A date?” Her eyebrows lowered and she sounded as confused as he was.

“Well, yeah, but you look like you just put a lemon in your mouth. I mean, forget it. There’s no pressure, today was fun… I was just thinking how much fun… but no pressure. I mean, I didn’t invite you today to make you uncomfortable. I really wanted you to try your hand at fishing.”

She’d never heard him sound so unsure. She put her hand out, grabbing his forearm. “No!” she exclaimed, afraid he was about to spin around and leave.

His eyebrows lowered and his expression furrowed into complete puzzlement. “No… don’t ask you? Or no, you don’t want to go?”

She felt the heat rising in her face. “I mean, no, I—I don’t feel uncomfortable. I want… I mean yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

His shoulders relaxed and his expression eased. It seemed like maybe they were both bad at this, but she assumed for very different reasons. His was perhaps owing to a bad marriage. Hers? Because she never technically went on a date. So she had absolutely no experience to draw from.

“I’m off Saturday night. I have to work until six, but I could pick you up at… say, seven? If you’re not working.”

“That sounds perfect.”

His mouth relaxed and a smile tugged the corners of it. “Okay.”

She stared up at him, caught in the depth of his gaze and the way his hair curled over his forehead. It was hard to resist touching the long chestnut strand that fell on his handsome brow. “Okay,” she repeated, her smile as big and goofy as his.

He took a step back, then another and another, still staring at her before he finally turned on his heel and jogged towards his truck where his son waited.

Her stomach fluttered again. His son. Crap. Shit. What was she thinking? Going out on a date, on an actual, real, formal, proper social experience. Sure, Tara had hooked up here and there with guys, but she had never dated them. The ways and places of her former liaisons… She shuddered as she remembered her sexual history with utter displeasure. There was no dating those guys, just sex. Imagine if Ryder knew about her history. And what her past sexual experiences included… He wouldn’t come near her if he knew. She flopped down on the bed. But how long would it be before he started to ask where she came from, and why did she just show up here one day? He knew she didn’t have family, and at some point, her parents were mean to her. That was a pretty brief description of her past. She had dropped some hints, but nothing he could possibly imagine.

No, upstanding fish-cop Ryder couldn’t ever understand how she spent the last five years. She cringed, worried he could find out her real name and do a background check on Tara Tamasy. He would certainly have to withdraw his invitation for a date. She really wanted to go out with him. Badly. Why? Because he was hot. Sure. Duh! She wasn’t dead. She was still young and had a strong pulse… although there were plenty of times when she wondered how that could be after the way she had spent the last five years.

He was freaking law enforcement, raising a small, young son by himself; how could he become a date of hers? She didn’t foresee anything with him. No. What would they have in common? Even their dispositions, their attitudes on life and… politics and homelessness and drug use and prostitution… They had to be polar opposites, and yet, he didn’t know all there was to know about her. But if he found out, Tara doubted he would allow her near his sweet, innocent, precious little son.

She pressed a hand on her chest as her heart rate accelerated.

One date. Dinner. It wasn’t a marriage proposal. She didn’t have to tell him any of her history, and he, most likely, didn’t want to know. They were just two attractive singles in this town of less than a thousand people, so she was interesting to him simply because of that.

What were the chances of her staying here beyond a few months? If and when it went south between her and Ryder, she’d simply take off. Done. Problem solved.

Shored up by the reality of the situation, she alleviated her guilt in accepting his date.

He pretty much gave her the best day of her life and that was something her own family never provided, neither as a child and especially not as a teen. Imagine. The best day of her life included things like yucky fish guts and blood and… pride. She somehow managed to outdo a whole bunch of men at their own sport and they seemed to take it pretty damn seriously. Tara bumbled in there with no skills and accidentally beat all of them. Best of all, it happened in the presence of a child she truly adored.