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wining and dining.
    “Have you done this before?” Gen asks after I reluctantly join her, her face alight with excitement.
    Am I the only one who doesn’t find the idea of fishing at five in the morning the least bit entertaining? “No. You?”
    She peers out longingly at the water. “I used to go with my grandfather when I was a kid, but I haven’t been in a long time. This is going to be fun.” She wraps her arm around my shoulders and squeezes the blood from my limbs.
    Oh God. My headache is returning. I glance at the truck. Is it too late to back out? There’s something about luring innocent fish and then manhandling their slimy bodies until they die that makes me want to hide beneath a rock.
    Mason turns around. “Gen, you and I are together. Hop in from here. It’s easier than from the dock.”
    Wait, what? I’m going with Jaeger? Alone? “Shouldn’t Gen and I go together? She’s fished before. She can help me out.”
    Mason shakes his head. “She told me a couple of days ago that she doesn’t have a fishing license.”
    Gen shrugs and nods in agreement.
    Wait, is this the reason we’re out here at five in the morning? Gen and Mason talked about fishing and now Mason’s taking her? Not exactly my idea of romantic, but if he was listening to something she wanted to do, I can’t argue.
    “Technically, neither of you should fish without a license, but we can probably get away with it if we split up. These boats are too small to accommodate both me and Jaeger, and I don’t want to leave you girls alone.”
    I could admire Mason’s protective nature if I wasn’t so panicked about being marooned with Jaeger. My stomach’s doing its version of the Harlem Shake, threatening to eject the large meal I just ate.
    Eric would do this—be a friend’s wingman and hang with a girl’s best friend so his buddy could get to know someone. That’s all this is. That’s all Jaeger’s doing too. He doesn’t care if he’s alone with me. Why should I?
    Releasing the clamp on my airways, I breathe deeply and approach Jaeger’s boat.
    The fishing poles are loaded, along with a tackle box and a small cooler. He reaches out and I take his hand. It’s padded with muscle, warm and firm, and it engulfs mine. A shock of heat rushes my chest. Previous dreams of that hand on my body dive-bomb any hope of rational thought. I stagger into the boat, my butt landing with a jarring drop.
    Jaeger passes me a paddle and I brace myself against the side, digging my fingers into the metal. Fantasies aren’t cheating. Still, this has got to stop. Most hot guys drop about ten notches after I get to know them. I’ll ask Jaeger a few pointed questions. That should douse the ardor.
    I dip my oar into the water and we attempt a rhythm, paddling out on the lake. Jaeger focuses on something in the distance and I follow his gaze.
    “Head for the outcrop.” He points to the dark rock wall a quarter of a mile away.
    We clumsily row to the peninsula. Okay, the clumsy part’s on me; I’m chopping and splashing, maneuvering my paddle like a hacksaw. The sky is sapphire blue with the rising sun, which has yet to crest Tahoe’s circular ridge of mountains.
    “Why over here?” I ask as we near. “Shouldn’t we go deeper?”
    “This is deep, and the fish like coves. It’s also closer to shore—less labor on our part.” He sets his oar down, his gaze intent on my face. For a moment, he doesn’t move, he simply stares, his jaw working as if he’s trying to decide whether or not to say something.
    Gen and Mason are closer to shore than we are. Hushed conversation floats over from their direction, but nothing decipherable. Jaeger and I might as well be alone. I glance away and focus on the obsidian water.
    Jaeger’s warm leg brushes my calf as he reaches for a pole. “You’ve never done this before?”
    For a moment, I wonder what he’s talking about. The heat from his leg and the proximity of his body has me thinking of make-out