Chapter Six

Chapter Six

“Bless your heart, honey, you don’t need to apologize,” the older man said with a smile so filled with sugar I was going to get a cavity.

His friend, bless his heart, winked. “How could we ever get mad at such a sweet face, right, Doug?”

My whole body went rigid at their kind words. Words spoken by two very nice customers that I’d been trying to help but couldn’t. I’d known from the moment they had walked up to the counter holding two fishing rods that they were going to ask me something I wouldn’t be able to answer, so I’d been prepared.

Hell, the first thing out of my mouth had been, “Let me get someone who can help you with any questions you might have on those rods.”

I had tried, and I knew I had tried to avoid having to stand there like a dummy. I’d memorized most of the prices for the models we carried. I even had a couple of the brands we carried burned into my brain, but that was absolutely it. What the differences between them were, much less why they should get a longer rod versus a shorter one, or even what kind of fishing—or angling as some customers had called it—they were used for, I had no clue.

So when the man who had to be in his early fifties ignored my words and went ahead and asked, “What’s the difference between these? Why is this one twice the price?” I’d been pretty resigned.

If we’d been less busy, I could have yelled for Clara across the room. But she was behind the rental counter, talking to a small family about something. Jackie was in the back taking her break, and the only part-time employee I’d met—for the first time that morning—had hung around for about two hours before waving and saying he’d be back.

Clara and I had looked at each other from across the room, and I’d suddenly understood, even more so than before, how much of a pickle she was in with employees.

For the record, he hadn’t come back.

The two men, though, kept on ignoring me trying to pawn them off on Clara.

I was glad and relieved that they weren’t being mean or impatient, but I couldn’t help but have my feelings be hurt anyway. I knew that I had gotten myself out of more pickles than I could ever count because some people found me attractive and I was pretty friendly by nature. Despite getting pulled over at least ten times, I had never gotten a ticket, even though some of my friends claimed I drove like a maniac. I just didn’t like to waste time. What was wrong with that? My cousins had teased me nonstop for the way people treated me for something I’d had nothing to do with.

But at the same time, my genetics were kind of a curse. Some men tended to be misogynistic. Sometimes I got treated like I was an airhead. And a lot of times, I got more attention than I wanted, especially when it was the uncomfortable kind.

I listened and I tried my best at just about everything, and I had a good heart—as long as you hadn’t wronged me. And all those things were a lot more important to me than what was on the outside.

I didn’t want to get babied. It made me uncomfortable.

And it took me a moment to collect myself enough to give the well-intentioned men a sweet smile. “Let me get my boss to help you. I’m new, and I haven’t gotten familiar with everything yet.”

The one with more gray hair than the other glanced at my boobs so quickly I was pretty sure he thought he was so slick I hadn’t noticed. “Don’t you worry, beautiful.”

I wanted to sigh, but I just smiled all over again.

And that’s when the door opened and the last figure I would have expected to come in, did.

Well, not the last, but one of them.

It was the uniform on that long, strong body that caught my eye first.

He was already looking at me. And if he was surprised, I wouldn’t have been able to tell because of the sunglasses he had on. Well, that and the fact that the customers decided to keep talking.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing working here instead of a clothing store? Or maybe a jewelry store? I’d bet you’d sell everything in one those.”

Pretty much any other job but this one was what they were hinting at.

I was trying my best. I really was. But it had only been a couple weeks.

I slid my gaze back to the less gray-haired man. “I’m not really that fashionable, and I don’t wear much jewelry.”

Out of the corner of my eye, Mr. Rhodes wandered farther into the store, but I could tell he was still looking at me.

“One of my friends is a lawyer in town; he might be looking to hire a new secretary if I put in a good word for you,” the one with the most amount of gray hair said.

Did he insinuate he’d hint at his friend to fire his current employee to hire me?

I shook my head and tried to give him another smile. “That’s all right, I like it here.” When I wasn’t screwing up. And when people weren’t petting me on the head like it was okay for me to not know things.

Fortunately, they settled on a rod on their own, and I rang him up and did my best to ignore the way they both kept staring at my face and boobs. When he took the receipt and rod out of my hands, I gave them both a smile and only let myself sigh once they were out of there.

But just as soon as the door closed, I was reminded that if I was planning on staying—and yeah, I didn’t love every part of the job, but one more glance at how tired Clara was told me I wouldn’t be leaving any time soon—I needed to get my shit together. For her. I needed to learn so I could answer questions on my own and not feel like crap about being so useless.

That was when I looked around the store and spotted the man by the fishing accessories.

It hit me.

Who would know more about outdoor things than a game warden?

No one.

Okay, maybe someone, but I only knew very limited someones here, and it wasn’t like I could ask Clara to sit me down and teach me anything. We barely had enough time to talk at the store, and she was always busy afterward. We’d made plans twice to go out for dinner, and she’d bailed both times because something had come up with her dad.

And sure, Mr. Rhodes didn’t exactly seem to have a whole lot of extra time on his hands either, considering I only saw his truck at home after seven most nights but . . .

I had saved Amos’s life, hadn’t I?

And he had said he owed me, even though I didn’t plan on ever taking him up on the offer, right?

The more I thought about it, the more I settled into the idea of asking him for help. What would he say? That he had better things to do? Or he’d remind me that I didn’t even have two more weeks left at his place?

Which reminded me that I needed to decide if I was staying so I could find another rental.

Or not.

I rang out a couple more customers as I thought about it, and by the time he strolled up after saying something to Clara and Jackie that I couldn’t hear—how he knew them, I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to find out—he slowly walked up to the counter and set down two spools of line. I should really figure out what the point of one being thicker than the other was.

“Hi, Mr. Rhodes,” I greeted him with a smile.

He’d taken his sunglasses off and slid them through one of the gaps between the buttons of his work shirt. His gray eyes were steady on me as he said in that same uninterested, stern tone from before, “Hi.”

I took the first package of fishing line and scanned it. “How is your day going?”

“Fine.”

I scanned the next package and figured I might as well go in for the kill since no one was around. “You remember that time you said you owed me?”

He didn’t say anything, and I peeked up at him.

Since his eyebrows couldn’t talk, they formed a shape that told me exactly how distrustful he was feeling right then.

“You do, okay. Well”—and I lowered my voice—“I was going to ask if I could redeem that favor.”

Those gray eyes stayed narrowed.

This was going well.

I glanced around to make sure no one was listening and quickly said, “When you aren’t busy . . . could you teach me about all this stuff? Even if it’s just a little bit?”

That got him to blink in what I was pretty sure was surprise. And to give him credit, he too lowered his voice as he asked slowly and possibly in confusion, “What stuff?”

I tipped my head to the side. “All this stuff in here. Fishing, camping, you know, general knowledge I might need to work here so I have an idea of what I’m doing.”

There was another blink.

I might as well go for it. “Only when you aren’t super busy. Please. If you can, but if you can’t, that’s okay.” I’d just cry myself to sleep at night. No biggie.

Worst case, I could hit up the library on my days off. Hang out in the grocery store parking lot and google information. I could make it work. I would, regardless.

Dark, thick black eyelashes dipped over his nice eyes, and his voice came out low and even. “You’re serious?” He thought I was shitting him.

“Dead.”

His head turned to the side, giving me a good view of his short but really pretty eyelashes. “You want me to teach you to fish?” he asked like he couldn’t believe it, like I’d asked him to . . . I don’t know, show me his wiener.

“You don’t have to teach me to fish, but I wouldn’t be opposed to it. I haven’t been in forever. But more about everything else. Like, what is the point of these two different kinds of line? What are all the lures good for? Or are they called flies? Do you really need those gadgets to start a fire?” I knew I was whispering as I said, “I have so many random questions, and not having internet makes it hard to look things up. Your total is $40.69, by the way.”

My landlord blinked for about the hundredth time at that point, and I was pretty sure he was either confused or stunned as he pulled his wallet out and slipped his card through the reader, his gaze staying on me for the majority of the time in that long, watchful way that was completely different from the way the older men had been eyeballing me earlier. Not sexually or with interest, but more like I was a raccoon and he wasn’t sure if I had rabies or not.

In a weird way, I preferred it by a lot.

I smiled. “It’s okay if not,” I told him, handing over a small paper bag with his purchases inside.

The tall man took it from me and let his eyes wander to a spot to my left. His Adam’s apple bobbed; then he took a step back and sighed. “Fine. Tonight, 7:30. I’ve got thirty minutes and not one longer.”

What!

“You’re my hero,” I whispered.

He looked at me, then blinked.

“I’ll be there, thank you,” I told him.

He grunted, and before I could thank him again, he was out of there so fast I had no chance to check out his butt in those work pants of his.

Either way, I couldn’t help but be relieved.

That had gone better than I’d expected.

I was still in shock over my tutoring lesson when the alarm on my phone went off at 7:25 p.m.

I’d set it so that I’d have more than enough time to finish whatever I was doing—that was putting together a puzzle I’d bought at the dollar store—and walk next door.

Was it dumb that I was nervous? Maybe. I didn’t want to say or do anything to get me kicked out ahead of time.

But I hated screwing up.

And I hated being in a position where I was unprepared.

Most of all, I didn’t like to feel dumb. Yet that was exactly how I’d felt way too many times while working at the shop. I was fully aware there was nothing wrong with me not knowing things—because I was sure I knew a hell of a lot more about a lot of things than other people did. I’d like to see most people work in a music store. Personally, I’d kill it. I’d spent the last decade of my life around musicians. The amount of random knowledge I’d picked up over the years surprised me. I could keep time and decently play three instruments.

Yet none of that benefitted me at all anymore. I hadn’t even felt the urge to write since that month with Yuki. My words had dried up; I was pretty sure. That part of my life was done now. It wasn’t like I knew what I wanted to do with the rest of my life anyway. No pressure, right?

So in the meantime, I might as well help my old friend.

If I was going to do that, I wanted to do it well. My mom hadn’t half-assed things, and I had never been the kind of person to do that either. She would have told me to study, to not give up.

And that’s what led me down the stairs and across the gravel driveway, holding a container of blueberry muffins I’d bought from the grocery store after work and the notebook I used to take notes for the hikes I was planning on doing. I thought about the box full of notebooks that I hadn’t opened in a year, then shook the thought away.

I eyed Mr. Rhodes’s truck as I walked past it and knew I was going to the right person.

I hoped.

I knocked and took a step back. About three seconds later, a shadow of a figure appeared down the hall before lights were flipped on, and I took in the size of the body. It definitely wasn’t Amos.

That thought alone made me smile just as he opened the door, didn’t say a word, and gestured me in with a tip of his head.

“Hi, Mr. Rhodes,” I said as I crossed the doorway and beamed up at him.

“You’re on time,” he noted, like that surprised him, as he closed the door behind us. I waited for him to walk ahead so he could tell me where to sit. Or stand.

Maybe I should have just googled all this. Or gone to the library. But I wasn’t a resident yet, so more than likely I wouldn’t be able to get a library card.

“I was worried if I was a minute late, you wouldn’t open the door,” I told him honestly.

He slid me a long look with that stony, hard face as he went around and headed down the hallway. I was pretty sure he even went “hmm” like he wasn’t disagreeing. Rude.

I eyed the house again as we moved, and it was just as clean as last time. There wasn’t a single coffee cup or glass of water lying around. Not even a dirty sock or napkin either.

I should probably clean the apartment before he had an excuse to come over and saw the war-zone reenactment that was going on across the driveway.

Mr. Rhodes ended up leading us toward the table in the kitchen that was so scarred, I knew from enough Home Remodel Network that it needed to get sanded and a layer or two of stain. Don’t ask me how it would be done, but I knew it needed it. But what caught me off guard was the way he walked around the back of it and pulled a chair out before taking the one next to it.

I plopped down on it and realized this was the steadiest chair I’d ever sat in. I peeked down at the legs and tried to wiggle; it didn’t move. I knocked on a leg. It didn’t sound hollow.

When I sat back up, I found Mr. Rhodes watching me once again. His raccoon face was back. I bet he was wondering what I was doing with his furniture.

“This is nice,” I told him. “Did you make it?”

That snapped him out of it. “No.” He scooted the chair closer, set two big hands with long, tapered fingers and short, trimmed nails on top of the table, and leveled me with a heavy, no-nonsense gaze. “You’ve got twenty-nine minutes. Ask your questions.” His eyebrows went up about a millimeter. “You said you have a million. We might get through ten or fifteen.”

Shit. I should’ve bought a recorder. I pushed my chair in closer. “I don’t really have a million. Maybe just about two hundred.” I smiled and, like I expected, didn’t get one in return. Worked for me. “Do you know a lot about fishing?”

“Enough.”

Just enough that friends and family posted about fishing stuff on his Facebook page. Okay. “What kind of fish can you catch around here?”

“Depends on the river and the lake.”

I didn’t mean to say, “Oh shit,” but I did. It depends?

His eyebrows went flat. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Nope, that’s why I’m here. Any information is better than no information.” I smoothed my hand across the blank page. I tried to give him my most charming smile. “So, uh, what kinds can you get in the rivers and lakes around here?” Time to try again.

It didn’t work. Mr. Rhodes’s sigh then told me he was wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. “We had a dry winter and water levels are very low, which makes fishing conditions not that ideal already. That and the tourists have probably fished out most of the rivers. Some of the lakes are stocked, so that’s most people’s best bets—”

“Which lakes?” I asked him, sucking up his information.

He rattled off the names of a handful of lakes and reservoirs in the area. “What are they stocked with?”

“Largemouth bass, trout. You can find perch . . .” Mr. Rhodes named a few other different kinds of fish I’d never heard of, and I asked him how to spell them. He did, leaning back against the chair and crossing his arms over his chest, the raccoon-watching face back on his features.

I smiled, feeling a little too pleased with myself for making him wary, even though I didn’t want him to think I was some weirdo creeper. But the truth was, it was good when people didn’t know what to expect from you. They can’t creep up behind you if they don’t know what way you’re going to look.

I asked him if there was still good bass fishing and got a lengthy answer that was way more complicated than I’d anticipated. His eyeballs were lasers aimed on my face the entire time. His shade of gray was pretty incredible. The color looked almost lavender sometimes.

“How much are licenses and how can people buy them?” I asked.

I ignored the way his eyes widened like this was common sense. “Online, and it depends on if they’re out of state or residents.” He then told me the prices of the licenses . . . and how much the fines were if someone was caught without one.

“Do you bust a lot of people for not having licenses?”

“Do you really want to waste this time asking me about work?” he asked slowly and seriously.

It was my turn to blink. Rude. What was that? Three or four times now? “Yeah, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked,” I muttered. I really did have better things to ask but fucking attitude. Jeez.

One of those dark eyebrows rose, and he kept his response simple. “Yes” was his informative answer.

Well, this was going well. Mr. Friendly and all that.

Too bad for him I was friendly enough for both of us.

“What are the different kinds of line you use for fishing?”

He instantly shook his head. “That’s too hard to explain without showing you.”

My shoulders dropped, but I nodded. “Which of those lakes would you still recommend?”

“Depends,” he started as I jotted down all the information I could handle. He was in the middle of telling me what places he didn’t recommend when we heard, “Hey, Dad—oh.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the same time Mr. Rhodes looked in the same direction to find Amos standing halfway into the living area, holding a bag of chips in one hand.

“Hi,” I greeted the kid.

His face turned red, but he still managed to say, “Hi.” His hand slid out of the bag and hung at his side. “Uh, I didn’t know anyone was here.”

“Your dad is helping me with some fishing questions,” I tried to explain. “For work.”

The boy wandered closer, rolling the top of the bag up to close it. He looked really good. He seemed to be walking just fine, and his color was back to normal.

“How’s your missing appendix?”

“Fine.” He came to stand beside us, eyes going straight for the notebook I’d been in the middle of writing in.

I angled it toward him so he could see what I’d written. “I meant to tell you that you could play . . . music . . . in the garage any time you want. It won’t bother me at all,” I said.

The teenager’s gaze flicked toward the man sitting there. “I’m grounded,” the teenager admitted. “Dad said I can start going into the garage again soon if it’s okay with you.”

“It’s totally okay.” I smiled. “I brought some muffins if you want one.” I gestured to the container in the center of the table.

“You got five minutes left,” Mr. Rhodes interjected suddenly.

Shit. He was right. “Well . . . just finish telling me what you don’t recommend then.”

He did.

And I wrote down just about everything he said. Only when he’d stopped talking did I set my pen down, close my notebook, and smile at both of them. “Well, thank you for helping me. I really appreciate it.” I pushed back from the chair and stood up.

Both of them just kept on watching me silently. Like father, like son, I guess. Except Mr. Rhodes didn’t seem shy—just grumpy or guarded, I couldn’t tell yet—and Amos did.

“Bye, Amos. Hope you keep feeling better,” I said as I backed away from the table. “Thank you again, Mr. Rhodes.”

The stern man undid his arms, and I was pretty positive he sighed again before muttering, sounding so reluctant his next words surprised the shit out of me. “Tomorrow, same time. Thirty minutes.”

What!

“You’ll answer more questions?”

He dipped his chin, but his mouth was pressed down on the sides in a way that said he was already second-guessing himself.

I backed up some more, ready to run before he changed his mind. “You’re the best, thank you! I don’t want to wear out my welcome but thank you, thank you! Have a good night! Bye!” I shouted before basically running toward the door and closing it behind me.

Well, I wasn’t going to be any kind of expert at anything any time soon, but I was learning.

I should call my uncle and dazzle him with everything I’d learned. Hopefully tomorrow someone would come in and ask something about fishing so I could answer them correctly. How great would that be?