Honey gobbled her breakfast in the corner of Graham’s sunny kitchen as he poured coffee into a big ceramic mug that read, “Librarians: The Original Search Engine.” His phone chimed with an incoming text message.
Zoe: Got a date for Ian and Amanda’s wedding yet?
Movement on the sidewalk out front caught his eye and he raised his head from the phone. Lily and Winston out for their morning walk. Zoe would probably think Lily looked like a good bet. He shuddered at the idea of bringing the overbearing blonde as a date to his brother’s wedding.
Graham: Didn’t think it was necessary.
Zoe: Don’t make me worry about you. A serious-faced emoji followed her message.
He recalled his sister-in-law’s pointed comments in the limousine after his father’s funeral. Zoe was a expert worrier. If worry was a competitive sport, she would be a three-time Olympic gold medalist.
Graham: Fine. I’ll think about it.
His phone rang and he lifted it, expecting to see Lloyd’s name on the screen, another player strategically deployed onto Zoe’s field of concern. Instead, an unfamiliar number was displayed.
“Hello?”
A jovial voice boomed out of the tinny phone speaker. “Hey Mr. Evans? This is Mike from Slow Drift Angler’s Supply.”
Graham wondered if the credit card he had given them for his fishing lessons had expired. “Yes?”
“Just wanted to know we’re rescheduling you to a different guide for Saturday.”
“Why’s that?” Graham frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. Was something wrong with Sam?
“Sam Halvorsen’s no longer working out of our shop. But we have a backup who can take you.”
Graham’s frown deepened. “What happened to Sam?”
“We’re not working with her anymore. That’s all I can say.”
Sour dread pooled in Graham’s stomach. “Does this have anything to do with the conversation I had with one of you guys yesterday afternoon?”
“That was me, and like I said, I can’t tell you anything further. So, we’ll just pair you with someone else who still works out of our shop.”
His jaw clamped shut at the man’s pushy attitude. “Cancel it.”
“What?” The other man’s voice was stunned.
“Cancel the lesson. I asked for Sam, I want Sam.”
Silence stretched for a few beats and then, “Uh…we have other good guides.”
“I don’t care. I told you I asked for Sam and if Sam can’t take me out, then that’s it.”
“Okay…If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. Goodbye.” Graham ended the call and put his phone down before Mike could respond. Honey, done with her breakfast, came over and nudged his leg with her nose. He crouched down and rubbed her satiny ears. Her eyes closed, a sigh of bliss smelling of dog-breath and kibble gusting out of her.
Graham closed his eyes as he petted his dog. “I think I may have fucked up, sweet girl.”
He drank his coffee and ignored the bagel half sitting on a plate in front of him. He had to figure out a way to make things right with Sam, and fast. Grabbing his phone, he thumbed the lock screen and ran a web search, hoping she would have some sort of website for her fly fishing business. No luck. Trying Facebook pulled up dozens of Sam and Samantha Halvorsens, none of them nearby. He rubbed his chin, thinking of other possible resources.
He could look her up in the student directory…
No. A prickle of discomfort crawled across his skin. Using the university directory would be crossing a line. He didn’t know if there was a specific policy, but he knew the wrong feeling that the idea made well up in him and he knew he wasn’t going to do that.
That left trying to find her at her other job.
He looked up The Fishing Hole’s hours. They opened at noon on Sundays. He thought about the outside seating on the little deck at the front of the restaurant and looked at Honey, an idea forming.
“Hey girl. You up for a ride?”
Honey’s ears pricked at the familiar word and her mouth opened, tongue lolling in eager anticipation. It was manipulative, maybe, but what the hell.
If Sam was mad, having a cute dog with him might soften her up.
“What’s with the long face?” Gina asked as she sat next to Sam in the little café and pulled out her laptop.
Sam’s cheeks burned with shame. “Lost a gig yesterday.”
Gina put a hand on her shoulder, concern digging a groove between her eyebrows. “What? What are you talking about?”
“Mike ended my association with Slow Drift.” Sam rubbed her gritty eyes. Sleep had taken a long time to come to her last night and when it had, it had been not so much sleeping and more fitful dozing, her mind whirring in circles, trying to figure out how she’d find her way forward.
“Those asshats. You should have ditched them a long time ago.” Gina wrinkled her nose as if the thought of Don and Mike smelled bad.
Sam groaned in frustration. “I don’t have the luxury to do that. I need those jobs.”
Undaunted by Sam’s outburst, Gina said, “I’ve never gotten that. Why do you need them for taking people out fishing?”
“They have the access to the people who want a guide. They’re pretty much the pipeline.”
Gina leaned back. “They can’t be the only pipeline.”
Sam exhaled explosively and slumped lower in her chair. “Well, Don, Mike, and the shop were my only pipeline for fishing clients. And it’s not like fly shops are on every corner like Starbucks. I’m not going to just be able to pick a different location.” Plus, the abrupt severing of ties amped up her constant anxiety about her reputation. Mike was a luddite, but Don was all over the fishing boards. The thought of him going online and casually trashing her reputation and a large portion of her livelihood made her stomach give a slow, sick roll.
“Why don’t you go out on your own, then?”
Sam huffed an exasperated breath. “And find clients…how?”
Gina blinked her dark eyes as if the solution was obvious. “Join the twenty-first century and go online. You’re always talking about how fishermen…fisher-people—people who fish are all over the internet.”
Sam looked at her laptop. “With this thing? It practically runs on coal. And I don’t know the first thing about setting up a website or anything. Plus, just setting up a website isn’t enough. I’d need to do marketing…I’m already in over my head.” The very thought made her brain spin and her heart pound with panic.
“I already told you I’d give you my old laptop. It’s old as far as I’m concerned, but it’s at least five years newer than this thing.”
Sam gave her friend a flat look. “Okay, but even with a new computer I don’t have the first idea of how to start such a thing.”
Gina sat up straighter, her eyes shining. “I have an idea. I have an extension on my final project for my Small Business Marketing class. I can do this for you.”
Sam was momentarily diverted. “An extension? How did you get that?”
Gina ducked her chin. “I may have played up the family emergency aspect of my trip home.” She hovered the backs of her hands under her chin and batted her eyelashes at Sam, the picture of false innocence.
“You’re terrible.” Sam sipped her coffee.
Gina pointed a manicured finger. “I’m your terrible. And I want to do this.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Charity?” A sick feeling churned in her gut, a reflexive rejection of the very idea of having someone else do something for her for nothing.
Gina leaned forward, her face alight. “No, this is a total win-win. You get a marketing plan and a website and I get an A+ grade.”
A small smile wormed its way through Sam’s panic. “Cocky much?”
“Totally. But I’m also right. Please?” Gina dragged out the last word, clasping her hands and bouncing in her chair.
Sam took in her friend’s demeanor. Gina had moaned about how she was uninspired by the artificiality of the final project too many times. She was chomping at the bit to take on something real. Sam could actually see how this could help her friend as well as herself.
“I’ll think about it.”
Sam rushed through the back door of The Fishing Hole, out of breath and shucking off her jacket as she walked. Gina had given her the full-court press, outlining what she could do with a website and a marketing plan. Sam, despite her reservations, was intrigued and she had lost track of the time.
Jan looked up from the bar, and shook her head, her hands busy pulling a pint. “There’s no fire. You can take it easy.”
“I’m late.”
“Ten minutes at most. You’re fine.” Jan finished pulling the pint and set it in front of a customer. “Before you put your jacket away, we have a customer on the deck out front. Wanna put that back on and see if he needs anything?”
“Sure.” Glad to have something to do to assuage her guilt at her tardiness, Sam shrugged her jacket back on, strode to the front door, and stepped out onto the patio.
And stopped.
Graham Evans lounged by a small table, legs outstretched, an open book resting in his lap, an almost finished beer beside him. A breeze ruffled his sandy hair. A black and tan short-haired dog lay at his feet, chin resting on his crossed ankles. The dog lifted its head as Sam let the door close behind her, brown eyes wary and watchful.
“Uh. Hi.” Sam shuffled her feet, remembering why Jan had sent her out. “Do you need anything?”
Graham looked up and marked his place in his book with a forefinger, his expression serious. “Yeah. I think I need to give you an apology,” he said, squinting up at her as she approached, the sunshine bright on his face.
She moved so the sun wasn’t at her back and his eyes followed her, relaxing out of their squint. “Why? For ‘white knighting’ me?”
His eyebrows drew together. “I’m not sure what that means, but I got a call from Slow Drift this morning. They said you didn’t work there anymore. Wanted to send me out with a different guide.”
“They what?” Sam gritted her teeth and took a deep breath, rolling her eyes to the sky. “Son of a bitch. I thought they’d at least let me take my last few bookings out.”
“They didn’t let you know they were rebooking your clients with different guides?”
“No.”
A crease appeared between his brows. “Unprofessional of them—at best. Unethical at worst. And I think it might have all been because of a conversation I had with the guy there. Mike, I think he said his name was.”
Sam exhaled in a frustrated huff. “No, it wasn’t because of that. It was because of the conversation—well, argument—Mike and I had after that conversation.”
“So I was responsible.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“What are you going to do? Are you going to keep teaching?”
“If I can…” Her mind spun, wondering what she needed to do first, what would keep at least a trickle of cash rolling into her bank account. Jeez, maybe she really did need to get Gina to help her out. The very thought made her breath come fast and panicky.
“Will you still take me out on Saturday?”
“What?” In her distraction, she thought for a moment he was asking her for a date. She mentally shook herself. “Oh. The river.” She looked at him harder. He was supposed to go out with Xander the first time. Why didn’t he do it now? “You didn’t take the substitute Mike offered you?”
He shook his head, gray gaze boring into her. “No. I want you.”
Graham was aware his statement sounded like a proposition. He didn’t care. Sam looked pale and pinched, her skin drawn too tight across her wide cheekbones, the curve of her nose like a blade. He wanted to do something to make all the worry and strain she was obviously under to go away.
She looked at him for a few moments. “Yeah. Sure. Of course I can take you out.”
Tension he hadn’t known he was holding in his shoulders began to trickle away. “Good. Great.”
“Yeah.” She hesitated, half turning back toward the door of the restaurant.
“Is there something else I can do for you?” He had no idea what that might look like, but he was ready.
She scratched her cheek. “You mentioned your brothers used fishing guides?”
Graham suppressed an upwelling of irrational jealousy. “Yeah? At least, Ian has. Not sure Lloyd has the time.”
“Think they might have…friends? They can recommend me to?” She swallowed and he saw her pride, how hard it was for her to ask for something. “I may have a friend put together a website for me, but…in the interim I’m going to need some referrals. After I have a website, too, for that matter.” She put a hand on one hip and gusted out a frustrated breath. “Honestly, I don’t even know what I need.”
“Sure.” An idea began to coalesce. He leaned forward and drew his feet back, depriving Honey of the ankles she had been using as a pillow. Honey got up and stepped up to sniff at Sam’s sneakers. She bent forward, dangling a hand for the dog to smell. Only after Honey had inspected her thoroughly did Sam reach a slow palm out to stroke over her silky head. The dog closed her eyes and moved closer to Sam, leaning her weight into Sam’s legs.
“She doesn’t do that for just anyone, you know,” Graham said.
“What?” Sam’s voice was low, gentle, using tones he hadn’t heard before.
“Go voluntarily to a stranger. She’s shy.”
“I could tell. What’s her name?”
“Honey.”
“Good name for her.” Sam squatted on her haunches, her movements slow and careful. “Hey there, Honey. Hello sweet thing.” She crooned at the dog, who licked the tip of her chin with her long, pink tongue. Sam smiled, the harsh lines of worry easing from her face. Something in Graham’s chest unfurled at the sight. Sam sat on the wood decking, both hands coming up to stroke the short, dark fur over Honey’s shoulders and chest. Honey made an odd groaning sound and flopped into the cradle of Sam’s legs. Sam laughed outright at this, looking up at Graham. “She’s charming.”
Graham nodded, stunned.
Sam rubbed Honey more vigorously, murmuring something Graham couldn’t hear when the dog rolled onto her back with a grunt, waving her paws in the air. “She doesn’t seem shy to me at all now.” Sam looked up at Graham and laughed again, pointing at his face. “What’s with that expression?”
“She…she never does this. For anyone.” A weird stab of jealousy arrowed through him, but he couldn’t figure out if it was for Honey or for Sam. His dog was sprawled in Sam’s loosely bent legs, and if he didn’t know her better, he’d say Honey was showing off, whipping her head from side to side, then looking at Sam for her reaction, then bucking her legs into the air in a ridiculous display.
“Honey, my love…” Sam cradled the dog’s face in her hands. “I have to get back to work. But you’re a delight.” Sam clipped her mouth closed and screwed her eyes shut as the dog scrambled up to lap her entire face. With the same slow deliberation Sam had brought to greeting and sitting down with the dog, she stood, rubbing at her dog-slimed face and smiling at Honey, who sat at her feet, looking up with a besotted expression.
“I’ve really got to get in. Do you need anything else?”
“Maybe…one of those burgers like we had yesterday?” It was probably a mistake. He shouldn’t stay. He had done what he had come here to do and he should leave now, while their fragile…whatever it was…was still good.
Sam dusted her palms on the seat of her jeans. “Sure thing.”
Jan’s face was all too blank when Sam re-entered the bar. “I need to wash my face and my hands because I’ve just been tongue bathed by a dog, but you have some explaining to do,” Sam said.
“Cute dog, isn’t she? She didn’t give me the time of day.” Jan, unconcerned, tapped the end of her pen against her lips, not lifting her eyes from the newspaper crossword she was working on in the near-empty bar.
“She’s shy. Anyway.” Sam flapped a hand at Jan, as she strode to the back. She shoved her jacket in her locker, washed up in the bathroom, and put in the order for Graham’s burger before joining Jan behind the bar.
“The dog’s shy, huh?” Jan slid a sidelong glance at Sam, chewing on the butt end of her pen.
“Yeah. What’s so odd about that?”
“You getting a tongue bath from an animal you only met five minutes ago. A ‘shy’ animal.”
Sam shrugged, busying herself with cashing out a customer and putting the glass in the dishwasher. “Dogs like me. Always have.”
“He’s been there since before we opened,” Jan said, her eyes fixed on her crossword.
“He…” Sam had been about to say the dog wasn’t a ‘he’ when the meaning of Jan’s words registered. “Graham’s been out there for over two hours?” A nervous flutter rippled through her stomach.
“Nursed that beer through the lunch rush and beyond,” Jan said.
“He…”
“Wanted to talk to you?”
Sam swallowed hard. “He wanted to tell me that Mike kicked me to the curb.”
Jan put her crossword down, looking directly at Sam. “You knew that already.”
“Yeah, but what I didn’t know was he’d cancelled the trips I already had booked. And transferred them to other guides.”
Jan’s eyes went wide. “That son of a bitch did what?”
Sam nodded. Jan settled a fist on her hip and looked over her shoulder at the front door of the restaurant as if Mike would waltz through that very minute. “That guy’s drinking privileges here are over.”
“No. Please.” Sam rubbed her eyes. “Just leave everything be. I appreciate the Xena Warrior Princess approach, believe me. But it won’t help me get more guide bookings if those guys start badmouthing me. More than they probably already are,” she said in reaction to Jan’s eyeroll.
“How are you going to get bookings now?”
“I need to go freelance. Gina might help me out.” And Graham still wants me to take him. A rush of pleasure at the effort he’d gone through to let her know that washed through her.
Jan’s thin eyebrows crimped together. “How can she help with that? She never looked like the outdoorsy type to me.”
“I might be her new project for a class. She’d make me a website and a marketing plan.”
“Hmph.”
“No, really. I know Gina didn’t make the best impression on you and Denise, but she’s smart and organized and…going through a lot with her family. And she’s a good friend.” And there it was. Her defense of her friend had pushed her from thinking about it to almost ready to say yes.
“Okay. If you say so.” Jan’s eyes flicked to the computer screen, widened. “Dog boy’s order’s up, it seems.”
“Dog boy?”
“Lover boy seemed like rushing things just a bit.”
Sam rolled her eyes and moved toward the kitchen. “More than a bit.”
“Too soon?”
“Try never.” No. Despite his waiting for her, there was no way he wanted more than friendship from her. Friendship and a nice few hours on the river.
Jan’s laughter cracked out behind Sam. “Right.”
Graham’s book was the latest in a series of thrillers he had been following for years. It should have held his attention.
It didn’t.
The text kept blurring as his attention wandered to the memory of Sam’s face splitting into a wide grin, laughter shaking her entire body as Honey flopped around, clowning like he had never seen in the two years he had lived with the dog.
He glanced at Honey, who had resumed her usual position, chin resting across his crossed ankles. “You really like her, don’t you, girl?”
Honey’s ears shifted, but her eyes didn’t open.
“Yeah. Me too.”
The dog sighed and shifted to the side a little, relaxation flooding her lean body.
“All tuckered out from showing off?” He couldn’t blame her. He kind of wanted to as well, no matter how wrong it would be.
“Was that what she was doing?”
Graham started, slamming his book shut and sitting up, wondering how much she’d heard. Honey shot to her feet, the whites of her eyes showing.
“Oh, I am so sorry.” Sam slid a plate in front of Graham, placed a rolled napkin with silverware beside it.
“I didn’t hear you come out.” He was mortified to think she might have overheard his confession, but she wasn’t paying attention to him. All her focus was on Honey. The skin along the dog’s spine was twitching and she was looking at Sam with a wary light in her eye.
“Aww. I apologize, girl. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Sam squatted again, holding out a hand for Honey to sniff. The dog moved to her with only the briefest hesitation, letting Sam stroke her shoulder, the whites of her eyes no longer showing.
“She startles easily. Something happened to her when she was a pup, I’m pretty sure. I got her when she was six months old and don’t know what happened to her before that.”
“Poor baby.” Sam worked her way up to Honey’s ears and rubbed them. “Such satiny ears you have.”
Graham laughed. “You sound like Little Red Riding Hood.”
“Pretty sure she’s not going to eat me.” Sam stood and pointed at the plate, Honey’s eyes following her movements. “But you should eat that. It’s going to get cold fast out here.”
“Right. Thanks.”
“No problem. Thanks for finding me and…and, well. Telling me about Mike.” The tension he had been so glad to see leaving her face made a return. He didn’t have the least notion how to throw a punch, but if he did he would go and punch Mike for what he did to her. “Same bat-time, same bat-channel this Saturday on the river?”
Graham nodded, trying to infuse warmth into his smile, to reassure her. “You got it. Looking forward to it.”
A tentative half-smile skittered across her face. “Yeah. Me too.”