“Do I need a fishing license?” Ashley asked. She shifted the pole she was carrying as they walked toward the lake, a much shorter distance than yesterday’s trek.
Ty raised a brow at her. She still wasn’t taking this threat seriously enough for his taste. And he was a little edgy—again—after a second restless night. Not because of her being restless, because this time she’d gone to bed and stayed there, but because... Hell, he didn’t know why he hadn’t been able to settle. He’d learned to gauge his limits, and figured he had another night like that in him. But after that he was going to need some serious sleep or he was going to be tired enough to possibly miss something.
Unless something happened, of course. Then adrenaline would kick in and carry the day. At least, it always had.
But she was looking at him in honest inquiry, as if she’d never thought of the ramifications. Which was another surprise. He would have thought, her parents being who they were, she would have had security precautions hammered into her practically from birth.
“And how long do you suppose it would take for word to get out that Ashley Hart of the Westport Harts bought a fishing license in tiny Yankee Run? You might as well post our coordinates to the world.”
She grimaced. “Just trying to obey the law, Mr. Colton.”
“I told you, I’ve got one,” he said. “And this is a unique situation.” Not to mention I can’t see even the state government seriously going after the sole Hart offspring. “But we’ll take the heat and pay the fine if you get caught. Or catch anything,” he added, in an exaggeratedly teasing tone.
“If? Humph,” she retorted, her nose so far in the air he knew it had to be intentional. She had a sense of humor, did Ms. Ashley Hart of the Westport Harts. And wasn’t afraid to poke at her own image. He liked that.
He liked a lot about her.
And he hoped he didn’t regret this. But while going out on the water in the small runabout in the boathouse would have been akin to stepping out onto a sunlit stage with a target on them, they were fairly sheltered here on the point. Visible from certain angles on the lake but masked to a great extent from others, and almost completely hidden from anyone who might be trespassing on Colton land. They’d have to get really close before they could see them, and if they managed that without Ty hearing them coming, he deserved what he got.
But she didn’t.
He’d never failed on a protection job, even in a couple of near-miss circumstances, once when he’d spotted the threat in time and gotten the protectee to safety, and once when he’d taken out the armed suspect. He’d earned Eric’s pleased approval, something he treasured because of his respect for the man. But somehow this time was different.
The thought of failing to protect Ashley made him feel crazy tense. If he did fail, and if because of that she was hurt or worse, he somehow knew that would be a shift of the ground under his feet so large he wasn’t sure he could withstand it. He’d never felt this before, and it made him nervous, edgy, and complicated things even further.
And he’d known her exactly twenty-four hours. How the hell had this happened in twenty-four hours?
How the hell had it happened at all?
He tried to focus on what they were here for. “We’re lucky it hasn’t gotten too cold yet, or they’d be really sluggish, and clustered in deep water.”
“So they’re prepping for winter?”
“Feeding up,” he said with a nod. “Just in different places. Springtime, you can catch them as fast as you can reel in and recast just about anywhere. It’s like a frenzy.” As they reached the lake’s edge, he scanned the water. There were several boats off the point, so the fish must still be striking.
“Is that a problem?” Ashley asked, looking at the other anglers.
At least she’d thought about it. That was progress, he supposed. “No. I know who they are.”
She blinked and turned to look at him. “All of them?”
He nodded. “They’re all locals or regulars I’ve seen before. Typical, this time of year.” At her expression, he couldn’t help chuckling. “You hang out in big cities too much,” he teased.
“There are advantages,” she said, “but disadvantages, too. I like the idea of knowing all the people around you.”
Yet again, she surprised him. But he kept it to himself as he pointed at a spot a few yards out in the water. “There’s some brush right around here that ends up underwater when the lake’s full, like now.”
“Good hiding place,” she said.
“It’s a little tough to cast out that far from here onshore, but it can be done.”
“Shall I take that as a challenge?”
He gave her a sideways look. “Not from me. I don’t generally fish from here. I’m too lazy when there’s a perfectly good boat around.”
Something shifted in her expression, and he couldn’t read it at all. “Sorry to disrupt your routine.”
His words could have been taken as a complaint, although he couldn’t see why she’d think something like that would be important to him now, on the job. But something in the dark depths of those chocolate-brown eyes had him grabbing for a response. And the moment it came out, he regretted both the words and the rough note that had come into his voice.
“There’s nothing about you that’s routine.”
To his relief, she didn’t reply to his ill-advised admission. She just gave him a curious look, as if she weren’t quite sure how to interpret what he’d said. He couldn’t believe that. Hell, she was probably more than used to guys hitting on her. She probably—
Damn.
Hitting on her?
Client. Protocol. Rules of conduct.
The warnings pealed out in his mind. And once he’d led her to the spot where she could cast out a lure and still be mostly hidden, he backed away from her. Again, she gave him that curious but unrevealing look.
He scanned the area behind them, listening carefully. There was a slight breeze today, but nothing that would have masked the approach of anything the size of a human being.
He turned back in time to see her finish rigging the pole and the bright spinner lure he’d suggested she try first. She’d done it competently. More than competently.
“Who taught you to fish?”
“My father, first. He likes sport fishing, although he’s more of a salt water guy.”
Of course he was. Probably prize marlin fishing or something.
But she’d said first. “And second?”
“A tribal member in Alaska was generous enough to share some of their knowledge with me. Once I proved I was up to it, of course.”
She flicked a glance at him with those last words, and he suspected she thought she was having to prove herself again. And he supposed, in a way, she was. She was certainly shattering most of those assumptions of his.
“Why were you in Alaska?”
“I spent a couple of months visiting an isolated area that needed a medical clinic built, so the one doctor they had would have a central location and facilities.” She smiled then, as if that memory were a special one. And that made him want to know more. As if what was special to this woman was important to him.
“You spent two months there?”
“I hadn’t planned to, but Dr. Kallik changed that. She’s brilliant. In those two months, she taught me a lot about rough-and-ready medicine.” She gave him another sideways glance. “I even assisted her on a couple of operations, when she needed more hands.”
He nearly gaped at her. Yet he could see it—she was cool, calm and brilliant herself. What other unexpected skills did she have?
His mind immediately careened into the gutter and he clamped his jaw tightly to keep from letting something beyond foolish tumble out of his mouth. He watched her silently. She was obviously familiar with the equipment, and while her first cast was off a bit, the next was better. But she still wasn’t happy with the location. He saw her studying the top of the brush that stuck up out of the water, and the next thing he knew she startled him completely by wading hip deep out into the water.
“If I’d known you were going to do that, I would have brought waders.”
“I’ll dry,” she said briefly, clearly unconcerned.
Chalk another one up in the surprise category. Ashley Hart was just full of them. She didn’t look at him but was completely intent on her next cast. This one she apparently put where she wanted for she let it drop. He would have, too, if he’d hit that spot.
There was something about her intensity, her focus, that had him thinking odd things. Like about the amount of research she must do to be as knowledgeable as she appeared. About her apparent ability to see both sides of an issue, even one where she had strong feelings or convictions. About the love in her voice when she spoke of her parents, as if they were an ordinary, loving mother and father instead of one of the richest couples in the world. Although that, he supposed, said as much about them as her.
He nearly laughed at himself when he felt a jab of envy. His own father had been far too busy and involved with the business to take his son, or any of his kids, fishing. His mother told him he’d always had plans to teach him, but after the triplets had been born his dad had, understandably Ty supposed, focused utterly and entirely on making enough money to support a family that had suddenly numbered seven.
Then he slid into simply watching her. He didn’t know how much time had passed when a faint rustle behind them snapped him out of his fascinated scrutiny, of her focus, her concentration, the grace of her movements, the curves of her slender body. His head snapped around toward the sound, and a moment later, he saw a pair of gray squirrels busily foraging for the nearing winter. He scanned farther, saw nothing, went back to the squirrels. He heard the same sound again, as one of the animals dug through some downed leaves.
Breathing easily again, he turned back. He glanced at his watch as he did so, startled to see well over an hour had gone by. He looked up as Ashley let out a whoop of triumph. In short order, she reeled in a respectably sized white bass. His instinct was to help her unhook it, but he quashed it. He had the feeling she wouldn’t appreciate help she didn’t need. He did dig a stringer out of the fishing gear bag he’d brought along.
“Move fast,” he suggested. “If they’re striking, they’re hungry.”
“So am I.” She was grinning so widely he couldn’t help but grin back at her.
She did as he’d suggested while he put the fish on the string and dropped it back into the water. She caught three more in short order, while Ty stood there marveling at the pleasure she took in the simple act. And she never even blinked at handling the fish. Clearly, she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. Or her feet wet.
“Nice work,” he said as they packed up the gear. “We’ll eat well tonight.”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t know much about bass, but I’ve heard...”
“People who don’t like the taste don’t know how to fix it. More exactly, they don’t know how to trim it.” She arched those delicate brows at him. He grinned at her. “You caught ’em, I’ll cook ’em.”
“You cook?”
“Only things I’ve hunted down myself, like any good caveman,” he said, deadpan.
She burst out laughing. Yeah, he liked that. Too damned much.
“Then the real question is, who gets to clean them?” she asked.
“We’ll split them up.”
“Before we split them up?”
It was his turn to laugh, and she looked just as pleased as he’d felt when she had. With the feeling that he was wading into water much deeper than the thirty-five feet of the lake, he turned and led the way back to the cabin.