Angling for you, p.28
Angling for You, page 28
“Well, okay. I don’t mean to brag, but I am his brother.”
“You’re also the silliest guy on the planet right about now.”
“It’s your fault.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah. I love to hear you laugh.”
“You do?”
He brushed her hair away from the back of her neck and kissed her there, tightening his arm around her waist when she shivered.
“I do.”
Chapter Thirty
An unfamiliar repeating set of tones woke Graham from a dream about driving through cartoon-like fields in strange, psychedelic colors. He cracked his eyes to see Sam pulling on her sweatshirt before padding from the room. The strange noise went silent after a moment, and he realized it must have been the alarm on her phone.
“What time is your clinic?” he called.
“Ten.” Her voice echoed through the house.
He squinted at the clock, couldn’t make out the numbers without his glasses, flopped back on the pillow. “What time is it now?”
“Seven.” She came back into the room, Honey prancing along with her.
“What sort of infernal fiend sets her alarm for seven on a Sunday?”
“The kind of infernal fiend who usually studies on Sunday mornings.”
“Come back to bed instead.”
Her hand landed on her hip and Graham reached for his glasses. He wanted to see her, not just her blurry outline. She snapped into focus and he was relieved that her expression was amused rather than annoyed.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” he said.
“I know.” She stepped closer. “That’s what worries me. I don’t want to miss my first all-women fly-fishing clinic. My first clinic, even.”
He patted the covers. “I promise to let you go in time to teach your clinic.”
“Like you’re going to be watching the clock.” But she stepped up to the edge of the bed and set her phone down on the nightstand.
He slid his arm around the back of her thigh, running it up under the sweatshirt to cup one buttock. She bit her lip, a smile hovering around her eyes.
From the doorway, Honey whined.
Sam’s eyes slid to where the dog stood. “She’s fine,” Graham said, tugging her toward him. Sam kneeled on the bed, bending toward him.
Honey whined again.
Graham slid his hand higher, under her sweatshirt, across her back.
Honey’s whine verged on a howl.
“She’s not fine.” Sam’s lips tickled his. “She needs to go out.”
Graham sighed. Pressed a firm kiss to Sam’s mouth. “I’ll be right back.”
She sat up and shook her head, sending Graham’s heart into his stomach. “No. I have to get cleaned up. Change. Prep for the clinic. Drive out to the site. Be there before it starts.”
“But you’ll be back?”
Sam feathered a finger across his beard. “Try to keep me away.”
His eyes met her clear blue gaze. “I never will.”
She smiled. “I think I’m starting to know that.”
“Excellent, Angela. Now try it and keep your wrist locked.” Sam nodded and Angela tried another practice cast. A line of six women was gathered on a field, all casting colorful pieces of yarn into hula hoops set as targets a few yards away in the grass.
“This is going so well,” Angela said out of the corner of her mouth. “Everyone’s been coming up to me and telling me what a good time they’re having, how much they’re learning.”
A fizz of pleasure surged through Sam. “I’m just glad I can help.” They had started the morning at a couple of picnic tables set under a shelter with a short talk on different types of flies and how to choose one for the conditions and the season. From there, the women had learned several different useful knots. One of the women had shown a remarkable capacity for learning the more complicated varieties. When Sam complimented her, she laughed and waved a hand. “I’m a knitter,” she said. “Knitting is just tying enough knots of the right kind until you have a garment.”
“And just how many men would see that as a logical statement?” Angela had asked with a wry tone.
Rueful laughter from the group was her answer.
After lunch, the clinic moved to the meadow where they now stood, going over how the line attached to the leader, leader to tippet, tippet to fly. This led into the casting portion of the clinic, where they now stood with their rods and hula hoops, every woman’s face set in concentration.
Sam was simultaneously sorry to see the end of the afternoon coming and tired in a bone-deep way that she didn’t even feel after a late-night shift at The Hole. When she checked the time and called it a day, though, the women looked like they could have kept going longer. Sam overheard a couple of them say they were going to stop by one of the larger streams nearby and continue practicing on the water.
Angela shook Sam’s hand, beaming. “Thank you so much. This was exactly what they needed. What we needed.”
“I had a ball.” Sam gathered up the supplies she had brought for demonstration and packed them away.
“Oh. Before I forget…” Angela rummaged in her bag and brought out an envelope. “Here you go. Let’s get you in to talk to the whole group at one of our regular meetings. The honorarium for that is a not quite as much—but it’s less work. And like I mentioned before, there’s dinner.”
Sam opened the envelope and looked at the check inside. Her eyebrows went up. “I had forgotten I was getting paid, to be honest. This is too much like fun.” She hadn’t thought she could love fishing more. It turned out, she was wrong.
Angela clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Best way to make money is to do what you love if you can.”
Graham was reading in his favorite armchair when Honey lifted her chin off his ankles and cocked her ears toward the front of the house.
“She home, girl?”
Home.
Honey took no notice of him, just shot to her feet and rocketed toward the front door.
Marking his place, Graham got up and followed her. She was bouncing and whining, a high-pitched, eager sound.
“You keep this up and I’m going to start fearing that you never did love me, Honey. You were just waiting for the right woman to come along.”
The dog looked at him, then the door, then back to him.
“Fine. Let’s go see how her clinic went.” Graham snapped her leash on her collar and opened the door. Sam was still in the cab of her truck, bent over to one side, fiddling with something. She looked up as they approached, a happy smile on her face sending a warm glow straight to Graham’s belly. He opened her door and she hopped out. “I take it there’s no need to ask if it went well.”
“It was great. I’m beat, though.”
“Teaching is hard work. And you’re used to one-on-one, which is very different than a group.” He took her backpack from her, shrugging it over his shoulder. “Come on inside. You hungry?”
She shook her head. “No. Just need to decompress.”
“Then come on in and do that.” He bent and kissed her, gratified at the way her smile broadened when he straightened up again.
“Easy as that, huh?”
He shrugged. “I don’t see any reason why it shouldn’t be.”
She followed him into the house and stood by while he unclipped Honey’s leash and set Sam’s backpack down on the hall bench. “It doesn’t feel…?” she trailed off.
“Feel what?” Putting the leash away, he was troubled to see a frown shadowing her face.
“One-sided? I feel like I’m just taking.”
“You’re not. In fact, you being here is a gift.” He set his hands on her shoulders. “When you left, that was taking.”
She nodded. “Taking from both of us. It wasn’t fun.”
“No, and I think I know why you thought you had to do it. But I’m glad you can see your way clear to try again.”
“Maybe I’m just selfish.”
He huffed a surprised laugh and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “No. Definitely not.”
Her arms circled his waist. “I just feel like such a fuck-up.”
“No, you’re just used to doing things you have a lot of practice at. This is new. We both have a lot to learn. But we can do that together.”
“How do you know all this stuff?”
“Years of watching other people, I guess. It’s not from a whole lot of personal experience. But if Ian, of all people, can figure it out, I’m sure I can too.” He leaned back and looked down into her upturned face, so dear to him. “Come on back to the den and tell me about your day.”
It was so easy, talking to Graham. They stretched out on the couch, Sam leaning back against his chest, describing how the clinic went, the reactions of the attendees. When he asked questions, his voice rumbled pleasurably through her back.
Honey hopped up partway through their conversation and draped herself over Sam’s legs. “Some lap dog you have,” she said, fondling her silky ears.
“I think she’s your lap dog now,” Graham said.
Sam frowned, her pulse jumping. “What do you mean?”
“Just that she’s adopted you.”
Honey chose that moment to fix Sam with a soulful gaze. Sam’s heart squeezed. “She’s kind of irresistible.”
“As long as one of us is, I’ll take it.”
Sam jabbed backwards with her elbow, causing him to grunt and laugh. “You know what I meant.”
“I do. And I still say if Honey’s an inducement, I’ll take any advantage I can.”
“She is. But.” Sam’s heart hammered against her breastbone. “You’re the real reason I’m here.”
His lips pressed to the crown of her head. “Good.”
“Anyway. What have you been doing today?”
“I read for a bit and I called Lloyd.”
She tensed, remembering the farm. She’d almost forgotten about it in the rush of teaching the clinic. “And?”
“And he is available for lunch downtown on Wednesday if you are. He’d appreciate it if you scanned the documents first and sent them to him.”
“Can you go with me?” Sam blurted, then felt ridiculous. The last of her self-sufficiency seemed to be bleeding away entirely.
“Of course. If you want me.”
She paused, trying to untangle the threads of her thoughts, her desires.
He gave her shoulders a little shake. “Don’t overthink it. I’m happy to go with you, but if you don’t want me there, you know Lloyd won’t bite.”
She sagged back against him, her head lolling against his shoulder. “It’s just so…new. I don’t know what to think about this. The farm…my family.”
“I get it. It’s okay. You let me know what you need, and if I can give it to you, I will.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“I do, don’t I? And it might not be that easy in the execution, but it really is that easy in terms of what I’m willing to do. You just let me know if you want me to go with you. I’ll take the day if you want. We can do something in D.C.”
“Do what?” She shifted against his chest, twisting her head to try to see his face, failed.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezed. “Something D.C.-ish. Monuments. The Smithsonian. Something. If you want.”
She considered his words, let her body relax against his, muscle by muscle, breath by breath. “That sounds nice.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“Simmer down. You’re practically vibrating,” Graham said, wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulders. She sat stiff and unyielding as the Metro car taking them from Shady Grove to Union Station swayed and rumbled.
“I don’t know what to expect. I don’t like knowing what to expect. Am I dressed okay?” She indicated the white button-down shirt and plain black trousers.
“You look lovely,” he said for what felt like the thirty-seventh time.
“I look like a cater waiter,” she groused.
He wrapped his hand around hers and squeezed, using the arm around her shoulders to pull her ear toward his lips. “You look like an elegant, no-nonsense woman who is about to go to an important meeting. Stop worrying,” he murmured.
“What if I make the wrong decision?”
“You don’t have enough information to worry about that yet.”
“But…”
“Stop. Worrying. We’re going to go have lunch with Lloyd, he’s going to give you good advice, and then I’m going to show you something you will enjoy. Take a deep breath, hold it, and let it out slowly.”
To his surprise, she complied and relaxed a little into his side. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
By the time they pulled in to Union Station, Sam’s demeanor was closer to normal. Her tense rigidity was replaced by curiosity as her gaze swept over the people on the platform. He had to drop her hand to go through the turnstile, but she reached for it again when they headed to the escalator, a gesture that made him want to whoop and cheer. Instead, he led her out of the station, both of them squinting against the noon sunshine.
“Come on. The restaurant’s not far.” He led her to the little boutique hotel bistro where his brother’s assistant had made a reservation, dismayed to see her tense up again as he reached for the door handle.
“I can’t afford this,” she said, stepping back a pace.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Truly.”
She gave him a wary look, but walked through the door he held for her, looking around at the expanses of glass and warm wood and the framed Art Nouveau posters hung in a row near the ceiling over the open kitchen.
“Gray, Sam!” Lloyd stepped away from the host’s stand and held out a hand to Sam. “Good to see you again.”
Sam shook Lloyd’s hand, an odd, shy smile on her face. “Thanks for…doing this.”
“My pleasure. Gray, good to see you.” Graham hugged his brother briefly, a heavy thump of rough affection landing on his back.
A slim young man carrying menus came to stand at Lloyd’s elbow, gesturing the little party to follow him when the greetings were finished. He seated them at a nearby table, held a chair for Sam, handed the menus around, and disappeared as discreetly as he had appeared. Lloyd looked at the menu for just a moment and laid it aside. Graham caught his brother’s eye and lifted his eyebrows. He had foreseen Sam possibly balking at the restaurant’s cost and had warned Lloyd.
“Before we get started,” Lloyd said, “as you are a client of my firm, this lunch is on me. Please order whatever you like.”
Sam looked up, wide eyes looking from Lloyd to Graham and back again. “But Graham said I’m not paying you.”
“A pro bono client is still a client. I insist.”
Graham squeezed her knee under the table, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile when she looked at him with a suspicious expression. She nodded slowly and returned to her perusal of the menu.
A waitress arrived to take their orders. Graham was relieved when Sam asked for steak frites instead of the inexpensive salad he had expected her to order. When the waitress glided off, Sam looked at Lloyd and took a deep breath. “So. What can you tell me?”
The nervous, almost nauseated flutter in Sam’s stomach made her wonder if she could even eat a single fry when her lunch came. She looked across the table at Lloyd. He wasn’t quite the doppelgänger for Graham that Ian was, but the family resemblance was still there. The strong jaw, the kind, gray eyes. Lloyd was clean-shaven and his hair was reddish and thinning a little, but the similarities were somehow soothing.
“Well, first of all, I got in touch with a friend whose firm has a strong international real estate group. The attorney you got the letter from is with a well-regarded practice. Small, but sterling reputation. I also took the liberty of calling her and having a short conversation about the farm. If you want her to represent you in Norway, I think she would be a fine choice.”
“Represent me how? For what?”
“In either the management or disposal of the property.”
“I don’t have the money to manage a two-bedroom apartment, let alone a farm in a foreign country.”
Lloyd nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Then I would advise you to sell it. Ms. Toft says there are no encumbrances and disposing of it would be relatively easy.”
Sam’s mind spun. “I’ve never had any real estate dealings in my life. Even my parents and grandparents rented. My aunt is the only one who’s ever owned a house. How would I go about doing that?”
“All you would have to do is sign a power of attorney empowering Ms. Toft to sell on your behalf. After the sale closes, the proceeds—minus the broker’s and legal fees—would be wired to your account.”
Sam frowned. “What’s the catch?”
Faint smile lines fanned out from the corners of Lloyd’s eyes. “What do you mean?”
“This all seems too easy.”
“Well, it apparently would be harder to find a buyer if the property was further north or if it was inland. But apparently Undredal is a picturesque little town on a fjord. It’s popular with tourists and the farm is likely to be snapped up by someone who wants to make it into a boutique hotel or agritourism destination.”
“No wonder Bestemor got all sad when she talked about home. It must be pretty.” Sam felt a stab of longing to see the place where her grandmother had been born.
“I looked the town up on the internet. The pictures are charming,” Lloyd said.
“That makes me want to visit. I’ve never been there.”
“If you sell, you will certainly have the means to.” Lloyd told her the estimated price range the Norwegian attorney had said the place would sell for and Sam’s mouth dropped open. She looked at Graham.
“Is he joking?”
Graham shook his head. “Lloyd wouldn’t. Ian’s the jokester in the family. Sorry. You’re about to become a woman of means.”
Their meals arrived at that point and Sam almost laughed at how she had gone from nauseated to ravenous in just a few moments. She bit into a hot, crisp fry and closed her eyes, chewing.
