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Head Over Heels

Head Over Heels

Author: Bell, Serena

Category: Book, Romance, Contemporary Romance, Contemporary

Status: Full

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Rating 10

Chapter 1 Chase “How is fishing like sex?” Brooks lowers his boat’s trolling motor, and we cast and slowly skim the surface of the lake. Jack and I settle back, ready for the long haul, and consider Brooks’s joke. “When you’re done playing with your tackle, it’s time to take your rod in hand,” Jack suggests. Brooks chuckles. “Good one, but no.” I squint at him. “It’s not the fancy equipment, it’s the motion of the boat.” Brooks smirks appreciatively but shakes his head. “The answer is, ‘The less you get, the more you lie, and if you don’t get any, you’re just playing with your rod.’ Chase, you shoulda got that one. Since that’s pretty much your life on both counts these days.” I shove Brooks, hard, off his seat, almost tipping the boat, and he lands on his ass laughing. Jack says, ticked but not really, “I’m not bailing if you two losers swamp us.” “Chase is just pissed because he knows it’s true,” Brooks says. As if on cue, my rod twitches and jumps in my hand—crap, poor choice of words. It’s a small sockeye salmon, but big enough to keep. “Read it and weep,” I tell Brooks as I dispatch it and prep it for the ice. “How’s the fancy equipment working for you now?” Brooks has a bug up his butt about these expensive lures he wants to stock in the store. I really don’t like selling people stuff they don’t need, so I bet him fifty bucks I could catch three sockeye with a lure hand-tied with yarn scraps before he could catch one with his expensive toy. Aside from the money on the line, if he wins the bet, we stock the lure; if not, we don’t. “Son of a beast,” Brooks mutters less than an hour later, as I pack my third salmon into the ice chest. He pulls two twenties and a ten from his wallet and hands them over, then inspects his lure grimly. “Useless piece of shit. Do you have any more of that yarn?” I hand him some, and he cuts the overpriced lure and sets to work tying a new one from the scraps. “Why is it,” Jack muses, reaching for his coffee cup, “that if I’d gotten up at five for work, I’d be pissed, but out here I feel like ...

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