Who am I kidding? I’m hooked on this guy!
Chapter Eight
Bullet
Walking back to the tent, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had made a huge mistake. Just yesterday I was thinking of being completely, or nearly completely honest with Lilly. What was my reward? Attitude—that was it, we didn’t even have sex last night. If this was any idea of how a real relationship was, I didn’t want it.
Who was I kidding? I was a physical guy with strong physical needs. I liked sex and plenty of it—end of subject. The problem was when we did have sex, it was freaking amazing. Lilly was sexually intuitive and didn’t have a problem initiating contact. She was the perfect balance of good girl and bad girl—my two favorite types of women. I found her insanely attractive but I could not figure her out.
We sat at the picnic table with the first aid kit. My first aid experience kicked in; removing a hook wasn’t going to be difficult but I wanted it to be as painless as possible. Like always, I told my patient what I was going to do before I did it. “First, I am going to apply this topical cream. It’s got a numbing agent that will lessen the pain. Then, I am going to make a small incision, that you won’t even feel right here. The hook will come out and we will clean it and patch it up. You trust me?”
She watched me quietly, “Yes, I do trust you Bullet.”
While I worked, she talked to me. “I know I have been a jerk today. I am sorry for that.” I didn’t bother arguing with her since she was confessing. I wouldn’t have chosen the word “jerk” but it worked too. “I am afraid you have not seen me at my best.”
I held her hand, waiting for the numbing cream to take effect before I made a small incision. I admired the fact that she wasn’t crying or screaming. I’ve seen it all in my line of work—I had even been slapped before. “I don’t know. I’ve had some memorable moments with you.”
“What do you mean?” she asked bashfully, watching me with her luminous green eyes.
I made a small cut in the back of her hand with a tiny scalpel. I was glad that I had included it in my first aid kit. “Well, let’s see. I shot a bear. I had some of the best, most intense sex I have ever had,” I looked her in the eye, “and that’s saying something. Now I’m performing surgery by a lake. Those are all highlights in my book.”
She laughed but I shushed her. “You have to be still for just a minute more. Don’t look!”
“Watching surgery doesn’t bother me. I’m not squeamish about that kind of stuff. I’ve seen plenty of blood.”
“Me too,” I reminded her. “There, look at that. Hook is out now. Let’s clean your hand up.”
“Hmm…not bad at all. You must be a doctor or something,” she flirted with me. I liked seeing her happy. I dabbed antibiotic cream on her wound. It was superficial really. Wrapping it with gauze and tape, she was ready to go. I put the unused items back in the kit and picked up the trash. “Here’s your memento.” I handed her the fish hook. “Don’t put it in your pocket though. I’d hate to see you get that wedged in your bottom.”
Lilly scooted next to me on the picnic table. “I don’t know what to do about you, Bullet Steinmann.”
“Oh, I think you know exactly what to do. I have no doubt who’s in control here.” And it simultaneously excites me and frustrates the hell out of me.
Looking innocent, she said softly, “Me?” I closed my first aid kit and looked at her. Her heart-shaped face and wild hair enchanted me. I was beginning to think that staying over was a very bad idea. Lilly Brightwood made me soft—weak. Those were two things I was not accustomed to.
“Yeah-—you. I’m going fishing, you coming this time or do you plan to wait for a panther to walk by?” Her green eyes widened in surprise. “I’m kidding, there are no panthers here. I think. Of course, there was this circus train once that derailed nearby.”
She smacked my arm playfully with her good hand. “Okay, show me your mad fishing skills. Any exotic wildlife I should know about in Blue Lake? Gators? Piranhas? Crocs?”
I put my arm around her waist protectively. “The only predator you should be worried about is the one beside you.” I growled at her and grabbed her butt, and she squealed and ran towards the lake laughing. Her bad mood disappeared and we were just too young people having fun out by a lake. We were a lot alike; both of us had to grow up too quickly. Both of us dealt with tragedy in very different ways but now here we were together.
I gathered up my broken fishing pole, picked up one for her and together we sat on the pier running lines and attaching hooks. I made her put her hand in the cricket basket to get her bait out. Despite her many faces, her mission was accomplished. To her credit, she hooked the cricket just like I told her. The casting lesson did not go so well but in the end we got the hooks in the water. The day was warming up; the sky was blue and expansive over us. It was just the two of us. She had pulled her curly blonde hair back in a feisty ponytail and rolled her sleeves up to her shoulders. We both had our jeans rolled up to our knees, our feet dangling in the water. It was peaceful, something I had not experienced since my father died.
“Well if we ever do catch something we can cook it because I brought everything we need for some pan seared fish. I’ll make you a deal: I clean them, you cook them. Deal?”
She gave me a mock salute and suddenly there was a tug on her line. Obediently, she did not squeal or frighten the fish by shouting. She mouthed the words, “Oh my God,” to me.
I whispered to her, “Breathe and hold the fishing pole lightly. He’s nibbling but you want him to grab hold. Don’t spook him!” We waited, our eyes glued on the cork. Finally—the orange cork bobbed up and down furiously! “Now, snatch him to the side and get the hook in!” Again, she followed my directions. She was on her feet, her ponytail swinging wildly, her bare feet strong and sturdy on the pier.
“I think I got him Bullet!” She jumped up and down.
“No celebrating until we get him on the pier! Reel him in, Lilly. That’s right, faster!” With a victorious grin, she pulled him up on the pier where he flopped. He was about ten pounds, perfect for eating. “What luck, girl! Great job! I am so proud of you! Hooked your own pole, snagged a fish and brought him in! That’s what I call good fishing!?
??
She laughed and held the fish with both hands, ignoring his wriggling. Now would come the tough part. Girls usually hated to watch you clean fish. I loved it. It wasn’t a big deal, it’s not like the fish were alive when you gutted it; well not completely anyway. Lilly was the opposite. True to her word, she wasn’t squeamish at all; she followed my instructions and made the perfect cut and pulled out the guts without bursting any of the organs. I told her not to worry about scaling it right now; we had more fish to catch.
“But do we need more than that? I don’t eat that much, Bullet.” She looked so pretty, even with fish guts hanging on her fingers.