Small-Town Fireman. Allie Pleiter

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СКАЧАТЬ well—” she applied a mock scowl “—we can’t have that, now, can we?” Karla turned the crank to shoot a burst of steam through the espresso machine, clearing out the piping for whatever Dylan would get this morning. “I was thinking hazelnut this morning. Less sweet, but smooth.”

      “Maybe a banana nut muffin to go with that?”

      “Excellent choice.” As Karla began making the drink, it struck her how much she’d been looking forward to Dylan’s visit this morning. She was proud of her idea for the Coffee Catch, satisfied that it had worked out so well for everyone involved, including her. “So, who’s coming Tuesday?”

      Dylan got a funny look on his face. “Nuns.”

      “What?”

      Dylan rolled his eyes. “Why is everyone so surprised that the sisters of Saint Cecilia’s want to go fishing?”

      He had a point. “I guess I shouldn’t be. Lots of people like fishing, I suppose.”

      She’d said that wrong; his expression perked right up, catching the disdain she’d neglected to hide from her voice. “But not you.”

      Karla busied herself with the hazelnut syrup. “Well, no. It’s not my favorite.” As the words left her mouth, she realized just what she’d let herself in for. When she looked up from the mug she was filling, Dylan’s hands were planted on his hips.

      “I’m going to have to take offense at that. Fishing is wonderful. This is Gordon Falls, after all. Fishing is practically our national pastime.”

      She poured the steamed milk into the mug to mix with the fragrant coffee. “I don’t think a town can have a national pastime.”

      “Don’t get technical. I know Karl fishes. You can’t tell me your grandpa never took you fishing.”

      “Oh, he did. Lots of times. It was sort of fun when I was little.” Why hadn’t she had the sense not to get into this discussion with someone like Dylan?

      “Then what made it not fun when you were bigger?”

      There wasn’t a safe way to answer that. There were times when peaceful afternoons out on the river made for good memories. It was just that as she grew up, those long stretches out on the water too often ended up in tense arguments between her father and grandpa. “It wasn’t the fishing, so much as the fishermen.” She slid the steaming mug toward him and lifted the dome off the glass plate where the muffins sat piled.

      Dylan caught the plural. “Obnoxious brother?”

      “Oh, no, I’m an only child of an only child. Let’s just say Dad and Grandpa don’t always paddle their boats in the same direction.” That felt much kinder than the memories of arguments she’d tried hard to forget ever happened. Some of those trips were the first times she’d become aware of her difficult position between her father and grandfather. She loved them both, but most times they had such a difficult time loving each other. It was one of the reasons she’d consented to come out here when Grandpa needed help—leaving Dad and Grandpa alone with each other was always a dicey proposition.

      “Oh.”

      She was glad Dylan seemed to catch on to what she was saying. This wasn’t the kind of thing she wanted to relay in any detail.

      “Water isn’t always a peacemaker, is it?”

      Funny thing was, it always had been for her. Even when the prospect of going out with Dad and Grandpa held the good chance of a fight, she went anyway. “I like the water. It’s why I like Chicago. Back home, I get out to Lake Michigan whenever I can.”

      “The lake is nice, but I found it too big. Give me a river any day.”

      She looked at him curiously. “You used to live in Chicago?”

      Something flashed behind his eyes before he answered. Chicago was evidently a sore subject. She watched him measure out his words the same way she’d just done. “It wasn’t for me.” There was a long story behind that short answer.

      “So you came here.”

      Dylan took a sip of the coffee she’d made, nodding his approval. “Oh, I like this better than the last one. Maybe even better than the first one.” He glanced at her for a long moment. “I should have come here all along, but I let other people convince me of what I wanted.” Then he took another sip, a longer one, making Karla wonder if he was buying himself time to decide how much he was going to say. “Don’t ever do that.”

      “I’ve got my own dreams clearly in sight.” She patted the Small Business Strategies textbook where it sat on the counter. The look in his eyes made her add, “And now it looks like you do, too. Captain of your own destiny, as Grandpa would say.” The “as if” expression on his face made her wonder if that was why he seemed pleased and annoyed at the “Captain” title. His fishing business meant much more than a paycheck to him, she could see that.

      “I’ve poured everything into Gordon River Fishing Charters. It’s going to work out because I’ll do whatever it takes to make it work out.” He turned up one corner of his mouth in a half smile, half grimace before adding, “Even marketing.”

      “I imagine you will,” she replied. The determination in his eyes made that easy to believe.

      Dylan took another sip and then set down his mug. “Are you working Saturday morning?”

      “No, my dad takes over on Saturday mornings.”

      “Then that settles it. You’re going fishing.”

      Karla let out a moan. “Don’t you have a charter or something? Boy Scout field trip?”

      “As a matter of fact, this is my only free Saturday this month. I think you need to go fishing.”

      “No, really—it’s not my thing.”

      Dylan picked up the coffee mug again, hoisting it up in front of her face as if it were Exhibit A.

      “You got three tries out of me. I think it’s only fair I get three hours out of you. Five-thirty to eight-thirty Saturday morning.”

      “Five-thirty a.m.? You want me to get up at dawn on my day off?”

      A playful grin crept across his face. “It’s not like you won’t have enough coffee.”

      “There isn’t enough coffee in the world,” she complained, leaning against the counter. “Is the sun even up then?”

      “Just barely. It’s the best time to be out on the river.” He pointed to the Commercial Baking recipe book open on the back counter behind her “Besides, anyone who wants to be a baker ought to be ready to rise before the sun, right?”

      “Let’s see—” Karla looked up at the ceiling, squinting in mock consideration “—the smell of freshly baked bread greeting the sunrise, or the smell of fish? It’s such a tough choice.”

      “Let’s see,” Dylan matched her tone, “standing in a cold, dark kitchen staring at an oven or the thrill of landing a prize fish in the glorious setting СКАЧАТЬ