CHAPTER SIX

 

 

“Oof!” Archie complained as he hefted the crate up onto the picnic table beside the river. “What’s in this thing?”

Cait glanced over at him and smirked. He really had bulked up for his current role, and she didn’t mind putting his muscles to the test.

“That’s my rock collection,” she quipped. “Please be gentle with it.”

“Aye-aye, Cap’n.” He patted the top of the camping box gently. “Yer rocks’re safe wi’ me.”

She giggled at his accent and finished arranging the fishing poles on the big rock on the shore, then fairly skipped over to him.

“This, my dear sir, is our lunch.”

She swept the top off the crate with a flourish. Inside were all the kitchen supplies she took camping…everything they’d need to cook their morning’s catch.

Archie pursed those magnificent lips under his beard and peered into the crate. “You expect me to eat charcoal?”

Pulling out a frying pan, Cait put on her best encouraging grin as she held it up. “Not if we don’t overcook the fish!”

His laugh was halfway towards being a groan, but he reached for his pole anyhow.

By this point in their friendship—if it could even still be called that, after last night’s date and incredible kisses!—Cait knew she shouldn’t be surprised by anything Archie did. But still, her brows went up when she saw him confidently bait cast.

She did the same for her own pole, and met him by the water’s edge. “So, who were you when you had to learn to fish?”

Maybe it was her odd phrasing, but when he turned to her, he was frowning slightly. “What?”

“Sorry. I meant, what role did you learn to fish for?”

The little divot between his eyes faded as his frown cleared, but the look in his gorgeous mismatched eyes was…a little sad.

He shrugged and waded out into the rushing water of Roiling Rapids River. Over his shoulder, he called out. “I grew up fishing in England. Mum took me all over, and I learned to fly fish with her at a young age. It was how we spent our holidays when I was in school.”

Huh. So, just like his one blue eye and one green eye, this was something that was Archibald St. John to the core. Not something he learned, not something he became.

Interesting.

It took an hour before Cait determined they had enough fish for lunch. It was funny to watch him so strong and confident out there in the water, but then wrinkle his nose at the idea of eating their catch. They both laughed a lot during the filleting process.

“Okay, now that you’ve got the cut along the neck and tail, slice along the one side of the spine, like this.” Cait held her trout with one hand, and demonstrated the cut.

“Which, can I just say? Eeew.” Archie made a rude noise, but gamely followed along.

As Cait showed him the two different ways to fillet a fish, standing there at the picnic table in the hot summer sun, the air cool around them, she had to smile. Her eyes followed his strong hands, with the little hairs on the backs of the fingers, as he deftly peeled and sliced and cut. Those incredible hands could do so much—learn so much. And here she was, teaching him another skill.

“Ta-da!” he called, lifting his second fillet up for inspection. It was in slightly better shape than the first, but he’d cut off a lot of good meat with the ribcage.

So she held up another fish. “Not bad. A few more, and you might get it right enough to eat.”

With a laugh, he caught the trout she tossed at him, and didn’t hesitate to slap it on the table to try again.

When all the fish had been filleted, she pulled out a small container of spiced breadcrumbs, and an egg she’d carefully packed. He used the charcoal to light a fire in the pit there by the river, and she was happy to discover he knew how to fry fish fillets.

Resting with her back against the large rock, her bare feet stretched out in front of her, she watched him squatting by the pit, tending the fire. He used the spatula to move the fillets around the cast-iron pan on the grate, and the smells wafting up were just incredible.

Cait inhaled deeply and tilted her head back. A handsome man, good food, a gorgeous day, and the sounds of the river around her. Did life get any better?

Life is an adventure, alright.

Later, Archie joined her beside the rock, and they just sat there to watch the water roil by. Her belly was full in that satisfying way of having caught and cooked the meal herself. Or rather, helping to catch and cook the meal…

“That was really good,” Archie said from beside her.

Their fingers were twined together and resting on his thigh. He’d greeted her that morning with a kiss, and there’d been a few during their fishing adventure, but Cait found herself wishing for more.

“Hmmm,” she agreed. “You’re a brilliant chef.”

He chuckled. “Thanks. I cook for myself most nights, but rarely have to do it over an open fire.”

Leaning slightly, she bumped her shoulder against his. “And how often do you have to fillet your own meat?”

His chuckles turned into laughter. “Never before.”

He lifted her fingers to his lips for a gentle kiss, but it was the look he turned on her which made her very glad she was sitting down; if they’d been standing, her knees would’ve gone weak.

“I suppose I should thank you yet again, Cait,” he said softly, “for still one more skill you’ve taught me. Thanks to you, Clay Jeneske will be a real man.”

Clay Jeneske? Oh yeah, that was the character in the movie he was currently filming. The bad guy who he’d inevitably make sympathetic…at least to any unmarried women in the audience.

She shrugged, a little embarrassed by the praise. “You’re a really great student. I mean, I’ve never known anyone so driven to learn so much in such a short amount of time…and then master it!” He’d kept cutting those trout until he’d gotten the filleting right. “It’s been cool to hang out with you for the last week.”

“’Cool’, huh?” he teased. “I can come up with different adjectives.”

The look in his eyes made her catch her breath. “Like what?” she whispered.

His lids lowered slightly, making him look even hotter. “Exciting. Adventurous. Invigorating. Enticing. Stimulating. Arous—”

“Okay, okay!” The laugh burst out of her. Leave it to Archie to make her laugh at a time like this. “It was all those things. But also pretty cool.”

“Cool. Yeah.” He smiled and settled back against the rock, her hand still tight in his. “I’m lucky to have a great teacher.”

“You’re lucky you found one person who could teach you everything,” she corrected, not at all modestly.

“That’s what I meant. When my buddy Jack suggested this place, I had no idea there was someone here who could teach me to drive and flip a UTV, how to make a fire from two sticks, how to create primitive shelters, how to fillet a fish, how to do any of the other stuff we’ve worked on in the last week…and I would’ve never guessed that if there was one person like that on River’s End Ranch, that she’d be so beautiful. And funny. And fun to be around.”

He thought she was beautiful? Cait felt herself blushing, but didn’t bother to tamp down on her smile either. He thought she was beautiful!

Archibald St. John thought she was beautiful and fun to be around. And he’d kissed her!

That knowledge emboldened her, and she twisted and stretched and planted a kiss on his bearded cheek. But he jerked back in surprise.

“What was that?”

Cait’s good mood dropped down into her stomach. “W-what?” she stammered. “That was a kiss?”

“No, dear Caitlin,” he murmured as he shook his head seriously. “This is a kiss.”

With that, he let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her up against him, and Cait forgot about whatever they’d been discussing.

Much later—although time had ceased to have any real meaning to Cait—she was resting on her back along the shore, wonderfully drowsy. Her head was supported by Archie’s leg, and his other knee was propped up, supporting his dangling hand. He was sitting against the same rock, and as she looked up at him, his smile grew, even though his eyes were closed.

“You’re pretty special, Miss Caitlin Quinn.”

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, Mr. Jeneske—I mean, St. John.”

Eyes still closed, he raised a brow. “You’ve helped me build Clay Jeneske into more than what he was before. I mean, over half this movie has been filmed already, and I thought I was in Jeneske’s head…but now I know this last month of filming is going to be even better.”

Cait clasped her hands and rested them on her stomach. “What else do you need to learn?”

He shrugged casually. “We’ve hit everything on my list, but I’ve got another five days here. We could spend the rest of the time goofing off—I still haven’t shown off my brilliant horsemanship to you, you know.”

“Or we could review everything you’ve learned so far,” Cait said with a mock-serious frown, trying to sound like a professional tutor.

He sighed. “More fish-gutting?”

“Or…” Cait slowly sat up, as inspiration struck. “Or we could apply everything you’ve learned…” she said in a far-away voice, her mind frantically whirling through the possibilities.

“Hmm?” he asked from behind her.

But Cait didn’t answer. Instead, a burst of excitement pushed her to her feet and she began to pace along the shore.

“What if… Clay Jeneske is an Isolationist, right? And he’s running from the authorities? Can I see the script?”

Archie was upright now, watching her energetic movements. “No, it’s against my contract. But I can probably share vague information, if you need to know something.”

“Okay, so you asked to learn primitive camping, right? And he’s running from the law.” Cait was waving her arms as she paced. “Can I assume there’s a part of the movie where you’re out in the wilderness, hiding out?”

Slowly, Archie nodded, his gaze distant as if he were mentally flipping through the script. “Yeah, the last two sections we haven’t filmed yet are the initial escape from the law—hence the UTVs—and the climax where I’m hiding from the FBI. I think the script calls for me to be out in the woods with only a knife and my camouflage gear.”

It made sense; some of the little things he’d wanted to learn would be useful skills if he were really stuck out in the mountains with only a knife. Regardless of what actual scenes were filmed, Cait understood enough of Archie’s process to know that he was learning these skills so he could really become Clay Jeneske. Even if he never started a fire by rubbing two sticks together on camera, Jeneske would know how to do that, and that knowledge, that feeling, would seep into Archie and help him become this new man.

And she could help him.

Her smile slowly grew, and she turned to face him, planting her hands on her hips. “I know how to make it more real, Archie. I know how to really give you Jeneske’s experience.”

He stood, one hand still on the boulder, his gorgeous heterochromatic eyes never leaving hers. “How?” he whispered.

“I’m going to take you camping,” she said with a proud grin. “I’m going to take you out there with just a knife, and by the time we make it back to the ranch, you’re going to know exactly how it feels to be proud and exhausted and terrified all at once.”

A statement like that should’ve worried him. He should have heard the dangers, the concerns. But not Archie St. John. No, Archie didn’t look worried at all. Instead, his expression slowly bloomed into a wide smile behind that beard, and his eyes lit up.

And instead of listing the reasons why it was a bad idea, or arguing it was dangerous, he said one word:

“Promise?”

As Cait met his smile with one of her own, she knew: Archie was hers. Here was a man who could meet her, adventure for adventure. Here was a man interested—no, anxious—to try new things and become new people. Life would never get boring with him, and she loved him for it.

She loved Archie.

The knowledge was wonderfully freeing; Cait felt as if she could float up in the air like a helium balloon. In only a week, she’d fallen in love with the most perfect man, and she couldn’t be happier.

But this wasn’t the time to float away, not when there was work to be done. Her smile grew, and she nodded once, firmly.

“I’ll have to call in some favors and make sure it’s okay, but I think we can make this work.”

He stretched his hand out across the sand, and she placed hers in it. As he drew them closer, she was struck by how right it felt, to be holding him this way.

“Thank you,” he whispered down at her.

“For what?”

“For understanding me. For coming up with such a brilliant plan to make me…better.”

She grinned. As if it were possible to make you better. But out loud, she said, “Thank you for not thinking it’s a crazy idea.”

“Oh, it is a crazy idea.” His smile grew. “And I love it!”

It was impossible not to chuckle at the excitement in his eyes. “Well, then. Let’s go make some plans, Mr. Jeneske!”