Shit. “I’ll just grab everything from the fishing shanty. We can head back to your place to eat.”
“No.” She said the word adamantly enough, but she remained just as frozen as the wide, ice-covered expanse before them. Given the late season, only a half dozen portable shelters dotted the flat plane. Tony’s sat just left of the center, with no neighbors for several yards, hence, Brody’s initial excitement in bringing Jenny out. They could hang out all afternoon without a single interruption. Maybe they’d even catch some fish.
“It’s okay. I...I can try,” she added, her pretty neck working as she gulped. “You’ve already walked out there, right?”
He nodded. “A couple times. There was a lot of stuff to carry.”
She shot him an apologetic frown, complete with a timid nibble on her lower lip.
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. The fear is real. I get it. I’m happy to shift gears and rethink what clearly wasn’t the kickass idea I thought it was.”
A small smile replaced her nervous one. “It’s a totally kickass idea. I just happened to have an irrational fear of dying a miserable, icy, blue-faced death. I mean, have you seen Titanic?”
“Um...can I plead the fifth on that one?”
She laughed and slowly let go of the seat to unbuckle her belt. “Do you promise I won’t die?”
“Uh...”
“Oh, God.” She slapped a hand over her mouth as realization flashed in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” Shit, I know. “And unfortunately I can’t promise you that. I can, however, vow to do whatever it takes to make sure you don’t end up like Jack Dawson. If you’ll trust me.” He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. Hell, she knew more about his shortcomings than most.
“I trust you.” Her warm fingers closed around his and squeezed. “Maybe hold my hand?”
He grinned, because oh yeah. “I can definitely do that, sugar.”
***
“This is actually kinda cozy.”
“Thank God you don’t mind small spaces. I was really starting to question my judgment.” Brody fussed with the portable heater, cranking it on high and positioning it so it pointed directly at Jenny. He’d also given her the more comfortable built-in seat, while he sat on an upturned bucket. Between them sat a small cooler and thermal bag with their lunch.
“Nah, I think you’re safe. The piggy back ride was a nice touch, too.” She bumped her shoulder into his and smiled. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“The hell I didn’t. Did you see the look on your face when your feet hit the ice? No, you didn’t. Why? Because your eyes were clamped shut.”
She threw her head back and laughed. The infectious sound filled up the tight quarters of the shanty, making him really glad he’d gone this route, even if it had started out a little rocky.
“How about we eat first and fish later? Unless you don’t want to stay that long.” He quirked an eyebrow as he dug the plates and utensils from a bag next to the jig poles and lure he bought before he left North Platte. He had all the same stuff at home in Omaha, too, but maybe he could leave everything with Jenny. Maybe they’d use it again someday.
“Now that you got me out here, we might as well make the most of this.” She winked and held the dinnerware while he pulled out the food and set it up on top of the cooler. Shaved prime rib, fresh rolls, creamy potato salad, some kind of pasta with olives, and apple dip with chunks of chocolate and caramel. “You weren’t kidding when you said you went overboard.”
“I’ve also got beer and hot cocoa.” He lifted a thermos with a modest smile. A guy had to be more than prepared when he was trying to impress a lady light years out of his league, and the pleased grin on her face made it all worthwhile.
She chose cocoa and they made small talk about his visit with his grandpa in North Platte while they ate.
“Wait—you mean he actually went up on the roof?” Jenny’s mouth slacked open and her pretty eyes went wide.
“Yep. Had a quarter of the snow shoveled, too. Hard to believe he’ll be eighty-two in a few months.” He popped the last of his sandwich in his mouth and sighed. “So you’re the creative type, huh? You do hair by day and sew by night? I saw the machine in the living room.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m creative, I just like to do things with my hands. Unfortunately, I spent most of my time at the salon, so I don’t quilt as often as I’d like. I did get some squares cut yesterday, though. That was awesome. It’s like therapy for me. Totally cathartic.”
“Baseball and fishing are that for me.” Neither of which he’d done in...hell, he couldn’t remember. Too damn long, that’s for sure.
“Is that why you chose to come out here today?” she asked quietly, stirring her fork through the little bit of potato salad left on her plate.
His first instinct was to deny it, but he caught himself before he acted on a habit he’d become too used to. That was the one thing he’d taken away from his sessions with Dr. Sherman—owning up to his insecurities rather than pretending they didn’t exist.
“Maybe? I guess I didn’t consciously think about it, but...” Last night sucked. And tonight he’d back in Omaha, further away from her, with no clue when he’d see her again.
“Well, let’s eat dessert and get to fishing then.” She smiled brightly and, not for the first time, her acceptance hit him hard. Did she genuinely care or was she just telling him what she thought he needed to hear?
“You go ahead. I cleaned up all the meat, so I’m good.” He stifled a burp...unsuccessfully, and she laughed. “Excuse me. God, I’m batting a hundred today, aren’t I?”
Just like that, she stopped spooning the apple dip onto her plate and turned to him, her brow furrowed. “I know we’re technically in the early stages of our friendship, but I don’t feel like I’ve just met you. Honestly, it sorta feels like we’ve known each other forever.”
That. A million times over. “Yeah. It’s crazy, but I’m with ya.”
“Then do us both a favor, okay?” She paused and he nodded. Hell, he’d do just about anything for her...already. “Keep it real with me. Just like you were in Vegas and just like you were earlier when you brought me here. I want to know you, Brody—not the guy you think you need to be to keep me interested.”
Goddamn, she knew where to land a punch when she wanted to, didn’t she?
“Come here a second. I want to tell you a secret.” She crooked her finger at him and like a moth to a flame he leaned in. Her breath fanned against his cheek and he shivered, her warmth a pleasant contrast to the chilly air around them. “I’m already interested, Superman.”
***
With a dozen bluegill in their bucket, Jenny and Brody called it a day on the lake. They packed up the remaining food and Tony’s portable shanty, and with lots of deep breathing, Jenny made it off the lake on her own two feet.
Brody turned his truck into her driveway just before six o’clock and she hated that he had such a long drive ahead of him.
“If you didn’t have to work in the morning, I’d ask you to stay.” Resting her head against the passenger seat, she turned to face him.
“And I’d take you up that offer. Unfortunately, I’ve got to be in St. Louis by tomorrow afternoon.”
“More driving?” Now she really felt bad.
“Some. I’m working this job with a few other guys, so we’ll switch out behind the wheel.” He shut off the engine and sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to leave. Spending the week with you would be a hell of a lot more fun than tolerating those assholes.”
She smiled. “What’s the project this week?”
“Doing some prep work for a big gas line expansion project this summer,” he grumbled. “Not quite as interesting as making old ladies feel like a million bucks.”
“Are you teasing me? Because I’ll have you know the old ladies are my favorite clients. They don’t tip worth a damn, but they have the best stories.”