Page 6 of Catch and Release
This was the right decision. Coming home, reconnecting to her roots, getting away from all the things that constantly reminded her of Leo. She slipped off her shoes and walked barefoot along the grassy backyard and onto the wharf that had been rebuilt after the most recent hurricane. She took in the view of the hazel bay, the freshwater-saltwater mix, and felt warmth enclose her heart.
Suddenly, she saw a few fish jump playfully over the waves.
Mullet.
She smiled to herself, a decision made. She set off to check for supplies, then to head to the bait shop in the old Jeep Wrangler her family always kept here.
Willa was going fishing tonight.
2
Shawn resisted the urge to roll his eyes as a redhead dressed in a smocked, maxi-length sundress and ginormous sunglasses walked into his shop. She was tan, somehow, despite the red hair, and her dress was seafoam green, with straps that left her upper back on display.
Fucking tourists. Did she know she was at a bait shop?
Spotting the tourists was easy for Shawn. They were dressed to the nines for activities that required little more than a swimsuit and a ratty t-shirt. This chick looked like she walked straight out of a magazine. Vogue or whatever the hell. She looked like a fucking model. And for what? To buy a fishing rod?
As annoyed as he was by her unnecessary attire, Shawn had to admit just how gorgeous she was. Lean and fit, with boobs perky and round like plums, long and slender legs peeking out through the slit of her dress. She had a beautiful neck, long and delicate and feminine. When she lifted her sunglasses, he couldn’t help but notice that her eyes were blue like the Gulf, like the sea that he took his boat out to explore every weekend, with depths just as mysterious. She had a soft tan, but her cheeks were rosy. And her lips—God, her lips. Plump and red, ripe for kissing, perfect?—
What the fuck?
Why was he thinking about the lips of this overdressed Valley Girl?
Tourists were fun to fuck when he was 20, but the novelty of it wore off in his 30s. He knew he’d just be a notch on their belt, a vacation fling they pursued with a grimy fisherman to convince themselves they were reckless and adventurous when they went back to their strict routines and boring, suburban lives.
He hadn’t fucked a tourist in a while. Wasn’t interested in meaningless sex anymore. Gave up on one-night-stands after his best friend, Tucker, fell in love and became blissfully married and made Shawn realize that’s what he wanted, too.
Shawn eyeballed the redhead as she perused fishing rods, and decided it was time for him to jump in and save her from embarrassing herself.
“Can I help you with anything, ma’am?” he drawled.
His heart stuttered as she turned to face him, those aquamarine eyes piercing his soul. His breath hitched as her lips quirked slightly upward, a rosy flush from the heat coloring her olive skin.
“I need some shrimp,” she responded in an accent that betrayed no particular location.
Okay, he wasn’t expecting that.
Most tourists who were going fishing without a guide stuck to fishing lures rather than live bait. Lures were easier to store and made for nice souvenirs.
“Shrimp?” Shawn responded dumbly.
“Yes, those small crustaceans you’ve got over there,” she smirked, pointing at the tank.
He cleared his throat.
“Sure, of course, ma’am,” Shawn said briskly, busying himself at the tank.
“Not too many, a dozen or two should be fine,” she continued. “And I’ll just go ahead and buy this.”
She swung an insulated bait bucket on top of the tank, then turned around to continue browsing. Shawn stopped what he was doing and crinkled his brows.
“Uh, ma’am?” Shawn said. “As much as I appreciate the extra business, there’s no need to purchase a $60 bait bucket for a short trip down here. Tourists typically just take their shrimp in a bag.”
She turned around and narrowed her eyes at him.
“Do they now?” she asked, a slight edge in her voice.
Shawn began to sweat a little. Had he offended her? He was just trying to save her some money.