Kristy sat with the others in the Mud Room, eating a hearty breakfast before their mystery event. Addie and Mollie looked as nervous as Kristy felt, but at least they had their guys to encourage and egg them on. Griff was nowhere in sight. It was annoying how disappointing that was. Just because they’d almost shared a kiss, and showed their scars, didn’t mean they’d bonded or anything.
She let out a soft sigh. Except she did feel a bond that she couldn’t quite explain. Not one of the guys she’d dated in college or met during her brief dalliance with the party scene had made her feel like this. Yet, what kind of future could they have? Griff didn’t seem inclined to leave here, and she couldn’t blame him. She needed the excitement of city life, meeting new people, living out loud.
And she only had one more day, one more night, before being escorted back to Atlanta. They lived three hours away from each other but worlds apart.
Once she was done with her oatmeal and banana, she wandered the room, studying the pictures on the walls. Yeah, she was looking for Griff. She knew his uncle had started MUD’N HUNT right after Griff enlisted, so he wasn’t in many of the pictures showing guests holding up huge fish, strings of rabbits, and trophies while standing in front of mud-covered trucks. But she found one of Griff as a teenager with a buck draped over his shoulders. He’d been gorgeous, with a carefree glint in his eyes. He was no doubt different now than that cocky young guy in a Marines T-shirt who raised a beer with a bunch of friends all perched on a hulking truck. She probably would have never connected with that Griff.
Footsteps clomped down the hallway, and she turned to the door. Holding her breath, for Pete’s sake. Something shifted in her chest when Griff came in, followed by Trent. Trent filled the room with his effervescence, and Griff filled it with his masculinity. And his smile.
His gaze landed on her first but quickly skipped to the others. “Cleared today’s area of snakes and snapping turtles.” He gave Kristy a wink. “Don’t want one of ’em taking off a finger.”
Kristy surged to her feet. “Are you serious?” She glanced at the other two women—should she call them victims?—before turning back to Griff. “What are we doing?”
“Wait!” Trent whipped the camera into position, hit some buttons, and said, “Go ahead and tell them.”
Griff paused for dramatic effect. “You’re going ticklin’. Or grabblin’. Or what’s better known as noodlin’.”
Kristy crossed her arms over her chest. “Sounds like a porn movie.” She would have enjoyed the chuckles at her assessment if she weren’t so worried.
Griff grinned. “You’re going to be handfishin’ catfish in the river. I got licenses for you ladies, and special permission, since we’re out of season. But we’re just doing catch and release.”
Addie stepped closer. “When you use the words hand and fishing together, do you mean we’re catching fish…by hand?”
Griff gave her a deep nod. “Yes, ma’am. I suggest you remove all jewelry, ’cause it might end up in a catfish’s gut.”
Kristy wiggled her fingers. “Will our fingers end up there, too?”
Oh, yeah, Griff was enjoying this. Which would have been nice if it hadn’t been at their expense. “No, ma’am, as long as you follow my instructions.”
Kristy indicated a couple of inches between her finger and thumb. “Fish this big?”
He held his hands several yards apart. Okay, not yards, exactly, but close enough. “This big. You ladies will be competing to catch the biggest fish. Noodlin’ is easy. You stick your hand into a hole and wait for the fish to grab hold. Then you pull it out and hold on so that whoever’s assisting you can weigh it.”
“We’re sticking our hands into a hole?” Kristy squeaked out.
“You’ll be sticking your whole arm in most of the time. Or your foot. Basically, you’re luring the fish out of its hole with some part of your body. You’ll each have one of us right next to you, so you have nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about,” Kristy echoed as they headed out. “Yeah, right.”
They piled into the Jeeps, Chase and the cameramen in the SUV at the end of the caravan. Kristy held onto the bar as they lurched over the uneven ground. Every time she started to say something, a rut stole the words out of her mouth. Griff was in guide mode, confident and easy. She liked him this way, but she loved the way he’d opened up to her last night. There would be none of that happening during this ride.
The river was nearly as muddy as the bog, only a lot wetter. And things lived in it. Fish and creepy crawlies and maybe even those slugs Griff had mentioned yesterday. Panic spiraled through her. “How are we going to catch a fish when the water’s the consistency of coffee?”
He pulled to a stop and hopped out. “It’s all by feel.”
Once everyone was assembled, waist-deep in brown water, Griff led them over to the bank. He sank in up to his chin. “First you find the hole, and then you stick your arm into it. The fish is going to bite your hand.”
“B-bite?” Kristy uttered.
His eyes were narrowed in concentration as he maneuvered beneath the surface. “It doesn’t have sharp teeth. Once it clamps on, you clamp on back and pull it out. It’ll fight you, but hang on.”
He was clearly wrestling something. The scarred side of his face was in the water, and she watched his jaw muscles tighten as he fought, then jerked a huge, slimy fish out of the water. He held the wriggling monster over his head. “See, nothin’ to it.” That garnered groans from Kristy’s competitors. He lowered the fish to the water and released it. “Let’s roll, ladies.”
Griff’s uncle and cousin led the other gals down the river, and Griff pulled Kristy by the hand to the opposite side of the bank. There were several fallen tree limbs, washed smooth brown by the water and time, and all she could think about were snakes or beavers or some other horrid creature lurking beneath.
“I’m really sorry I ever watched that River Monsters show. The host hangs out in water just like this searching for crazy-huge creatures. And piranha.”
Griff chuckled. “There are no piranha ’round here. Or gators. Just snapping turtles and snakes.”
“Which you said you cleared out.”
“As of forty minutes ago, anyway.”
“You’re not helping!”
The vexing man chuckled again, clearly not the least bit worried. “You’ll be fine.”
Trent hovered with his camera as they approached the bank, but the idea of that hole garnered all her attention.
Griff kept hold of her hand. “I’m going to guide you to the opening. As soon as you pull out the fish, I’ll string it up and weigh it.” He took her by the chin and gently turned her to face him. “I’ll be right here.”
That comforted her, right up until he guided her hand inside a hole and said, “You’ll be more startled than anything when it grabs you. Be ready to grab it back.”
“I don’t want to—ah!” It attacked, just like he’d warned. “It’s on me, it’s on me!”
“Hold on.” Griff came up behind her, reaching down her arm, and pulled up a fish by the rope in its mouth. “You did it!” The fish flopped and fought as he handed the rope to her.
She’d done it. A gooey sense of pride and relief washed through her. “I did it. I did it!”
He pulled a mesh bag around the fish and held it up with a ruler-like thing. “You caught a thirty-two pounder!”
A woman’s piercing scream sailed through the air. One of her competitors had obviously caught a fish, too. Kristy hoped it wasn’t bigger than hers. Even if this wasn’t a real contest.
Griff released the fish, but his gaze was on her. “Nice job, Kristy.”
His proud smile was an even bigger rush.
Trent checked something on the screen. “Perfect.” He tilted the camera to show her the replay of her terrified expression when the fish took hold of her. And there was Griff, his good side toward the camera, watching her, not the fish. She saw something in his eyes, in the way that he looked at her…
She turned to him as he hovered just behind her. He cleared his throat and turned to Trent, whose expression was filled with glee. “That should be a great hook. You both gave me a huge helping of awesome sauce!”
Kristy couldn’t help giggling at Trent’s unbridled enthusiasm. Even Griff was chuckling. Trent headed toward the bank, where Mollie and Julian waited, and Griff’s cousin led them around the bend. Kristy turned to face Griff. “That was amazing. Freaky, slimy, and a bit painful, but amazing.”
She inspected her hand, and Griff took hold of it for a closer look at the bleeding scratches. He lifted it to his mouth and planted tender kisses on each one. Her heart dropped right out of her chest.
“Do you do this to all your noodling clients?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.
“Nah. Most of ’em have hairy hands.” Even though he was making a joke, his expression remained serious.
“And I bet most of them don’t tip like this.” She freed her hand from his and laced them behind his neck. Up on tiptoe, sinking slightly in the mud, she pressed her body against his and kissed him.
His breath caught in surprise, but he responded with kisses that were sweet and soft and chaste. His hands came up to slide into her hair, and his breathing quickened. He paused, his nose brushing against hers. “I haven’t kissed a woman since before the explosion.”
Her smile probably gave away that she liked the idea of being the first. “Then I think it’s high time you did.”
He studied her with hazel eyes so serious that she feared he might step back. But a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Why, ma’am, I do believe you’re right.”
He braced her face and kissed her again, his mouth covering hers, brushing back and forth in sensual sweeps, and then opening to deepen the kiss. She invited him in, touching the tip of her tongue to the ridged skin of his lower lip, then running it along the entire length. He let out a soft groan as their tongues came together, as he moved even closer and explored her mouth. She could feel all of him pressed up against the front of her body, his hard muscles, and his even harder erection. Her hands slid up the sides of his chest and down his broad back as she’d longed to do earlier. She traced the tips of her fingers down the indent of his spine all the way to the top of his waistband.
“It’s been a while for me, too,” she whispered between kisses. “This feels like my first kiss.” Had she felt this pulse-pounding rush of blood with that first kiss? She couldn’t even remember it now. All she could see in her mind was Griff, his face, his smile. She threaded her fingers through his hair, brushing the ridges of his damaged ear.
He pulled back, looking thrown off.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked.
“No, it’s…” He ran his hand back over his hair. “I forgot. For a few seconds, I forgot what I look like.”
“I don’t care what you look like.”
All of that beautiful openness was now hidden behind a wall. “I don’t know how you can want me. No woman deserves to look at my ugly mug every morning.”
“I have scars, too.”
He reached out and dragged his thumb down her jawline. “You are amazingly beautiful. Once this is all over, you can go back to modeling. Keep pursuing your dream. Go to fancy parties and find a guy who will look good at your side.”
“Griff, I don’t want a guy who looks good. I want a guy who is good.”
Voices pulled their attention to Addie, Risk, and the other cameraman, along with Griff’s uncle, trudging back along the bank. Addie was saying, “I hope we didn’t hurt the fish. Didn’t it look lethargic when we tossed it back in?”
Risk shook his head, giving her a conciliatory pat on her shoulder. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, my big-hearted little animal hugger.”
“We got a twenty-nine pounder,” his uncle called out. His gaze zeroed in on her and Griff. “What’cha still doing in the water? You wanna catch another one?”
Kristy shook her head vehemently. “One’s plenty, thank you.”
Griff helped her to the shore, his hand tight on hers. But his words hurt more than that catfish ever could, how no woman deserved looking at his face. “What about what you deserve?” she asked quietly.
He gestured to include everything around him. “I have all this. It’s everything I need. It’s where I belong.”
A part of her longed to refute his hollow words. No, Griff. You belong with me.