Instructions for Love Read online

  She glanced at Dane, saw his backside, and felt her smile fading. The grim set of his mouth when he’d come near and recast for her had let her know his true feelings. She was a bother to him, and all he wanted was for her to hurry and catch a fish. Then he could take her home and get to work in his fields.

  “C’mon, fish,” she uttered, jerking her rod. She needed to get one and then let the man get her back onto stable land.

  Darn, Dane thought, giving his line extra hard jerks. The woman seated behind him still seemed extra close, even if he stood with his foot jammed against the boat’s stern. He had to stop glancing at her over his shoulder. That last peek made him miss seeing his cork go under, until it was too late. The fish felt the slack and shook loose.

  All she needed was one fish. That would satisfy her about fulfilling Tilly’s request, ridiculous as it was. He needed to pay better attention to his line. As soon as he hooked the next one, he’d let Erin reel it on.

  She bothered him. She sat in his bow, when actually, she should be back with her boyfriend. Trevor wouldn’t be out here, trying to let her catch a fish. He’d have her at his place, probably snuggled and getting all cozy. He’d be making her happy and bringing back the light that danced in her eyes whenever she’d looked pleased. He’d enjoy watching her beautiful face.

  Dane cursed. He reeled in and cast again.

  “Did you say something?” Erin turned toward him, her look expectant.

  He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “It’s hot.”

  Facing toward him, she glanced at the sky. Her eyes trapped the light, revealing their green hues, giving him an urge to study them. Those eyes that originally appeared gray as ripe moss had changed. She aimed them toward him. “You aren’t accustomed to being in the sun?”

  “In the fields, but not out here.” He noted the stupidity of that statement before he’d completed it. “I mean… I hadn’t been fishing in a while. Being in a boat’s different.” Especially with you in it.

  She lowered her rod. “Why don’t you do this more often? You seem so at ease out here.”

  He shook his head regretfully, squeezing back the burn in his throat. “Someone used to fish with me. But my fishing partner’s gone.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” Her tone held real empathy. When he didn’t tell more, she removed the cap, leaned her head back and shook it. Her brown hair shimmered over her shoulders. But the parts of it edging her face had darkened from being wet.

  “It’s too warm for you to be out here.” He grabbed the cooler. “Here, have some water.”

  She smiled, accepting the cooler, and lifted the spigot. “You wouldn’t happen to have a glass?”

  “Afraid not. But go ahead, I filled it with ice. I’ll have coffee.” He picked up the thermos. “Did you want some?”

  “No, thanks. It’s much too steamy out here for coffee.”

  “You’re probably right.” He drank it anyway, the strong brew burning his throat on the way down. Immediately his body felt even hotter.

  “Mm, good and cold.” She raised the cooler again and drank more. “Thanks. That was great.” When she handed the cooler back to him, he spied faint freckles on her nose. Her cheeks had reddened.

  “I’ll get you into some shade,” he said. “The fish aren’t biting here anyway.” Retrieving the rod he’d set down, he reeled in. He was ready to tell her to do the same thing, but saw she had already imitated him. With her line in, she grabbed her hook, secured it on an eye on the rod, and set the rig on the floor. “Nice job,” Dane said.

  “This being a country girl seems hard at first, but once you get accustomed, it isn’t so difficult.” She took off her cap and ran her fingers through her hair, more of it now damp. She thrust the baseball cap back on her head, a flash of humor crossing her face. “Ready when you are, captain.”

  The displeasure squeezing through him eased off. Dane started the motor and headed out of the lake. The back of her long-sleeved shirt filled with air while they traveled, its bottom edge flapping. She glanced back, and he turned away, feeling like he’d been caught doing something wrong.

  The motor’s hum drowned out her words, but he thought she mentioned that now she was cooler.

  He wasn’t, he considered, trying to return the smile she gave him but not succeeding. He had to look ahead, with her in front of the boat and him in its rear. He told himself that again when he tried watching the shoreline ahead but kept sneaking a glance at her.

  While he headed for Miners’ Canal, she pulled off the cap, gave her head a small shake and leaned back to catch the wind. Her hair blew up in an untamed cascade that gave him a wild instinct to gather it in his fingers.

  Dane reeled in his feelings. He stared aside, knowing these waterways as well as he knew each row of his fields. The only things he had to watch out for were boats that might cross their paths or logs that recently fell into the water.

  The underbrush had thickened since he’d last been out here. More of the old cypresses died. Not so many of their knees sprouted from the water, which wasn’t so murky today as he’d remembered. That last time, with Anna seated beside him, a storm had pushed through the day before and stirred it up, causing this water’s normal greenish tint to turn dirty brown. No other boats had gone out, but Anna wanted to fish, just like she often did. They hadn’t caught many that day but hadn’t minded. Instead, they’d set their lines down, and in the shade of the big old oak leaning from the ridge next to Miners’ Canal, shared passionate kisses. The jo-boat hadn’t been the softest place they had made out, but neither of them complained. She’d been happy and laughed hard when they started moving again and she spotted a coon staring at them from the bank. It had been almost the last time for passionate kisses, he recalled with bitterness. And the last time he had been out in this water.

  “Look,” Erin called, getting him back to the present, “another boat’s coming.”

  He heard the boat’s motor approach from ahead, but had been so deep into the last good times he’d spent with Anna that the source of the sound hadn’t registered. The sixteen-foot fiberglass hull with a teen boy driving it sped past on their right. Erin gave the boy a wave, and he waved back. Dane acknowledged the kid’s presence with a nod. He had been such a kid himself, taking boats out alone, the pirogue long before he was old enough to drive a car, and then much later, the larger boats.

  Erin turned toward him. “With all the quiet out here, I’d thought we were alone.”

  He shook his head grimly. “No, we aren’t alone.”

  Without thinking, he had slowed the boat. He noticed when Erin again spoke.

  “What’s that in the grass?” She stared at the bank, her face brightening. “It’s a raccoon! Dane, there’s a raccoon on shore.”

  He sped ahead, barely spotting the big oak in his side vision as they passed. “I’ve seen coons,” he said, responding to her glance at him.

  The happy face Erin wore changed into an expression of remorse. Then confusion. She gave him another wide-eyed stare and turned around. Her face’s profile, while she watched the bank, looked expectant like a young girl waiting to see what Santa might bring. But she would learn soon enough that Santa didn’t show up any longer. And this girl, he noted with displeasure, had grown up into a beautiful young woman.

  Concentrate, Dane told himself, turning his eyes aside. Just get to a spot where she’ll catch a fish, and then get out of here.

  “Where are we?” Erin asked as Dane angled the boat yet again into another waterway. She enjoyed the wind blowing against her when they moved, but with so much water everywhere, wondered why he didn’t just stop any place and try to catch a fish.

  His raised voice carried from behind. “We’re going through Headland Canal and heading for Lush Bayou.”

  She leaned toward him so she wouldn’t have to yell over the roar of the motor. “Bayous, canals, they all look the same.”

  He shook his head. “Canals were created by man, so the plant life around them u
sually isn’t as nice. Nature gave us the bayous.”

  She glanced at land they were passing. The bank on either side was high and level, with the little vegetation other than brownish grass and an occasional tree not as interesting as some other areas they’d passed. “Where do your bayous come from?” she called.

  “That mighty Mississippi you might’ve noticed up north sweeps down here and branches out. It gives us these fingerlings of fresh water.” He turned their boat yet again. “Lush Bayou,” he said, his tone satisfied.

  Trees of all sorts overhung both sides of the bank. Their branches dipped into the water and cast inviting shadows along the bayou’s edges. Tall yellow and white wildflowers grew alongside brown-topped cattails and fan-like palmettos.

  “I see the difference.” Erin was excited with her knowledge, enthralled by what she saw. She glanced at Dane.

  He wore a satisfied smile. His left arm shifted out as he made the motor and boat turn. Their motion slowed. They slid to a stop not far from shore. “This used to be a good spot.” He grabbed an anchor from the floor and gently dropped it over the side. “I’ll throw out for you.”

  She picked up her pole. “I’ve watched you. I think I can do it myself.”

  A corner of his lips lifted. He cocked his head, watching. “There you go, just press the button. And let go of it when you cast.”

  She stood and did as he said. Erin cast the line. Her hook landed on top of a lily pad close to the boat. “Oh-oh.”

  “No problem. Just give it a little jerk. That’s it. Reel in and try again. Throw close to that branch if you can.” He nodded to indicate the partly submerged branch of an oak leaning toward the water.

  “I’ll try.” Through the corner of her eye, Erin could see him watching her, expectant. He was a patient man, she decided, hoping he wouldn’t have to come to her rescue and keep casting for her as well as himself.

  Her cork swung out and dropped near the branch’s leaves.

  “Perfect,” he said. “Now let your hook sit. Every once in a while, pop it.”

  She smiled, eying her small cork and enjoying the cooler air that the overhung trees created. “What are all those exotic-looking plants?” She pointed to clusters of wide heart-shaped leaves on the bank.

  “Elephant ears.”

  She laughed. “Don’t tell me you all have elephants, too?”

  “Got one!” He jerked up his rod and began reeling. His face lit, dimples forming small craters in his cheeks. He pulled his pole up. A little fish popped out of the water and swung into their boat. Dane wore a proud smile as he held the dark fish.

  “Great job,” Erin said, pleased for him. “What kind is it?”

  “A perch.” He smiled at his catch while he took it off the hook, opened the ice chest, and tossed it in. Dane looked at her, his expression darkening. “I forgot. I wanted to let you pull it in. Then you would’ve caught your fish.”

  She shook her head. No way would she have wanted to take away the pleasure she’d just seen in him. “I’ll get my own.”

  “But suppose you don’t.” His gaze shifted to the side, his eyes widening. “Erin, reel. You have one, too!”

  She looked for her cork, but it had disappeared. “I have a fish? Oh, I have a fish!” Excitement shot through her veins, and she reeled quickly as she’d seen him do. Moments later she held up her pole, a little fish wiggling from the end of the line, its greens and yellows shiny while it moved. “It’s beautiful.”

  “That’s a sac-a-lait. They’re some of the best eating.” He stepped toward her. “Want me to get it off for you?”

  She clasped the fish. “I think I can do it.” Erin wriggled the hook, and the fish came loose. Exhilaration had swirled through her ever since Dane hooked one, and now that she’d caught her first fish ever, the glow mounted inside her.

  She placed her fish in the ice chest, her thoughts darkening. Now that she had caught a fish, as her aunt requested, he would bring her home. But she didn’t want to go. She breathed in the pungent smell of the water and their surroundings while closing the ice chest. Shade from the trees felt pleasant on her skin, all the beauty of nature not something she wanted to leave yet.

  “Good job,” Dane said. “They’re biting now. Let’s get some more.”

  “I’m with you.”

  He remained standing closer to her than before, and Erin stood to cast, aware of his nearness. Her cork landed inches from his. “Hey,” he said with a smile, “watch that. Don’t try to steal all my fish.”

  “I have another one!” She gave him a smirk and reeled. “Just give it time. I’ll teach you how it’s done,” she teased, pulling her fish in. “Oh. This time I have a perch.”

  Dane reeled and threw out again. His cork barely hit the water before his cork went down. He pulled in his fish. “And I have a sac-a-lait.” He tossed it in the ice chest on top of Erin’s.

  “Mom Bea did say you were a pretty good fisherman,” she said, grinning.

  “Not just good. I’m one of the best.” He grabbed the bill of his cap and tugged it down, twisting so it sat sideways on his head, giving her a better view of the words written on it.

  “World’s best fisherman, huh?” Erin said. She yanked off her own cap and set it again on her head, this time backwards. “We’ll see about that.”

  She cast and in a moment pulled in another fish. Dane seemed in imitation. They caught one fish after another, tossing their catches into the ice chest. A few minutes passed while neither of their corks went down. Dane threw out in another direction, and so did she. Soon they were glancing at each other’s lines, laughing while trying to reel in faster than the other. He seemed like a young boy, happy and unfettered by problems.

  She dared to voice her earlier concern. “I thought we’d only catch one and then go.”

  He scrunched his nose with an adorable smile and tugged the bill of his cap. “Fishing is like eating potato chips. You never have enough with just catching one.”

  “That’s why I’ve got more,” she said, surprised to feel the pull on her line much harder than any fish pulled before. “Oh my gosh, I have a monster.”

  “Reel, Erin, reel,” he urged, stepping closer and putting his arms out as though he might have to help.

  Her rod bent, and she turned the reel’s knob as fast as she could, a thought spiking fear. “Alligators don’t bite on fishing lines, do they?”

  His laugh assured her she could reel her catch all the way in. “Not if they can help it.” His playful tone dropped off. “Erin, you caught a bass. Dang, you’ve got a nice bass.”

  She yanked that bass up out of the water. It wasn’t as pretty as the smaller fish, but it had fought her and she’d won. “Of course I did,” she said, trying smugness but struggling to get this larger fish off the hook. She managed to wriggle it loose and then held it up to him. “What’s the matter? You don’t know how to catch these?”

  Joy flickered in the eyes that met hers. His mouth looked inviting, curled as if on the edge of laughter.

  Erin gave in to temptation. Leaning over the fish she held up, she pressed her lips against his.

  The warmth of his tender mouth sent warmth through her.

  She drew her head back, searching his face for signs of a similar reaction, the kiss making her weak and confused. She felt a burning need for another kiss.

  And realized she had just made a big mistake.

  His eyes showed surprise. His face looked solemn. Annoyed?

  She turned and tossed the bass into the ice chest. “Hm,” she said, not knowing where to put her hands or where to look, “I’m beginning to smell fishy.” She brought her fingers up to her nose, grimaced, and wiped her hands down the legs of her jeans. “Oh, silly,” she told herself, “now your clothes are going to keep the fish smell.”

  Keeping her gaze away from his eyes, she leaned over the side of the boat and slid her hands through the water. “Now, that’s better,” she said, backing to her seat.

  He had yet
to speak and only stood watching, while Erin grabbed the hem of her shirt and dried her hands. The boat swayed. She glanced up to see Dane stepping to the rear of the boat.

  “I’m glad you caught a bass,” he said, casting beyond the motor, his back toward her. “Not many of them come into this area.”

  Erin reined in any joy she’d felt. What had she been thinking? She’d been foolish to kiss him. The man had been tempting, but did nothing to make her believe he wanted her kiss. “I was just excited,” she said, and he didn’t glance back. Maybe he hadn’t heard. But she couldn’t repeat her words. Better to let him forget what just happened.

  She tightened her grip on her pole as hard as she pressed her lips together. Dane’s happy mouth and body’s nearness had enticed her, no doubt. But she surely didn’t want to live down here, and he wouldn’t want to relocate up north. With a sugar cane plantation? He didn’t really care about her anyway. Gosh, the man wasn’t happy with her kiss. The only time he seemed pleased was when he caught fish.

  The feel of the kiss remained while unhappy scenes of herself as a child cluttered Erin’s mind. She’d tried as hard as she could to make her mother really love her. And when she’d grown old enough to realize her father had left home once he discovered she’d been conceived, had pleaded with her mom to try to find him and make him return.

  She gave her line hard jerks. She would not throw herself at Dane again.

  A blackbird flew through the bushes. Insects buzzed. The sun shot more of its heat against her shoulders. Her mouth still felt warm from the touch of Dane’s lips against them. She glanced over her shoulder. He held his back rigid, looking away from her. Erin thought of her mother, of severe rejection, and before she could stop it, a hot tear slid down her cheek.