Read Perfection #3 Online

Authors: Claire Adams

Perfection #3 (6 page)

“That’s not bad. I can get that out.” He reached
into his pocket and pulled out a knife.

“No! You can’t use that on me.” I pulled my hand
away. I didn’t care if he was a surgeon, I didn’t want him digging into me with
a Swiss Army knife. He opened a knife to the scissor attachment and cut the
line.

“Come on. I have a first aid kit in the tent. It
really isn’t bad. I can get that out in no time. See it’s just the top layer of
skin. You are lucky — it could have been an eye or your lip.”


Ow
! That really hurts.”

“Well don’t play with it! When I’m done it’ll be
gone and you can go back to sneaking up on people.” Bullet sounded aggravated
and I can’t say I blamed him but that was no excuse to snipe at me. It was his
hook in my hand. His jaw popped and he held me by the arm as if I were going to
run away or something.
That’s it. I’m
done with him.
I imagined life without him. Would I even miss him? Wasn’t
this just a “sex-
cation
?”
Oh man, I love his cologne.

Who
am I kidding? I’m hooked on this
guy!

 

Chapter
Eight

Bullet

Walking back to the tent, I couldn’t help but wonder
if I had made a huge mistake. Just yesterday I was thinking of being
completely, or nearly completely honest with Lilly. What was my reward?
Attitude—that was it, we didn’t even have sex last night. If this was any idea
of how a real relationship was, I didn’t want it.

Who
was I kidding? I was a physical guy with strong physical needs. I liked sex and
plenty of it—end of subject. The problem was when we did have sex, it was
freaking amazing. Lilly was sexually intuitive and didn’t have a problem
initiating contact. She was the perfect balance of good girl and bad girl—my
two favorite types of women. I found her insanely attractive but I could not
figure her out.

We sat at the picnic table with the first aid kit. My
first aid experience kicked in; removing a hook wasn’t going to be difficult
but I wanted it to be as painless as possible. Like always, I told my patient
what I was going to do before I did it. “First, I am going to apply this
topical cream. It’s got a numbing agent that will lessen the pain. Then, I am
going to make a small incision, that you won’t even feel right here. The hook
will come out and we will clean it and patch it up. You trust me?”

She watched me quietly, “Yes, I do trust you Bullet.”

While I worked, she talked to me. “I know I have
been a jerk today. I am sorry for that.” I didn’t bother arguing with her since
she was confessing. I wouldn’t have chosen the word “jerk” but it worked too.
“I am afraid you have not seen me at my best.”

I held her hand, waiting for the numbing cream to
take effect before I made a small incision. I admired the fact that she wasn’t
crying or screaming. I’ve seen it all in my line of work—I had even been
slapped before. “I don’t know. I’ve had some memorable moments with you.”

“What do you mean?” she asked bashfully, watching me
with her luminous green eyes.

I made a small cut in the back of her hand with a
tiny scalpel. I was glad that I had included it in my first aid kit. “Well, let’s
see. I shot a bear. I had some of the best, most intense sex I have ever had,”
I looked her in the eye, “and that’s saying something. Now I’m performing
surgery by a lake. Those are all highlights in my book.”

She laughed but I shushed her. “You have to be still
for just a minute more. Don’t look!”

“Watching surgery doesn’t bother me. I’m not
squeamish about that kind of stuff. I’ve seen plenty of blood.”

“Me too,” I reminded her. “There, look at that. Hook
is out now. Let’s clean your hand up.”

“Hmm…not bad at all.
You must be a doctor or something,” she flirted with me. I liked seeing her
happy. I dabbed antibiotic cream on her wound. It was superficial really.
Wrapping it with gauze and tape, she was ready to go. I put the unused items
back in the kit and picked up the trash. “Here’s your memento.” I handed her
the fish hook. “Don’t put it in your pocket though. I’d hate to see you get
that wedged in your bottom.”

Lilly scooted next to me on the picnic table. “I
don’t know what to do about you, Bullet Steinmann.”

“Oh, I think you know exactly what to do. I have no
doubt who’s in control here.”
And it
simultaneously excites me and frustrates the hell out of me.

Looking innocent, she said softly, “Me?” I closed my
first aid kit and looked at her. Her heart-shaped face and wild hair enchanted
me. I was beginning to think that staying over was a very bad idea. Lilly
Brightwood made me soft—weak. Those were two things I was not accustomed
to
.

“Yeah-—you. I’m going fishing, you coming this time
or do you plan to wait for a panther to walk by?” Her green eyes widened in
surprise. “I’m kidding, there are no panthers here. I think. Of course, there
was this circus train once that derailed nearby.”

She smacked my arm playfully with her good hand.
“Okay, show me your mad fishing skills. Any exotic wildlife I should know about
in Blue Lake?
Gators?
Piranhas?
Crocs?”

I put my arm around her waist protectively. “The
only predator you should be worried about is the one beside you.” I growled at
her and grabbed her butt, and she squealed and ran towards the lake laughing.
Her bad mood disappeared and we were just too young people having fun out by a
lake. We were a lot alike; both of us had to grow up too quickly. Both of us
dealt with tragedy in very different ways but now here we were together.

I gathered up my broken fishing pole, picked up one
for her and together we sat on the pier running lines and attaching hooks. I
made her put her hand in the cricket basket to get her bait out. Despite her
many faces, her mission was accomplished. To her credit, she hooked the cricket
just
like
I told her. The casting lesson did not go so
well but in the end we got the hooks in the water. The day was warming up; the
sky was blue and expansive over us. It was just the two of us. She had pulled
her curly blonde hair back in a feisty ponytail and rolled her sleeves up to
her shoulders. We both had our jeans rolled up to our knees, our feet dangling
in the water. It was peaceful, something I had not experienced since my father
died.

“Well if we ever do catch something we can cook it
because I brought everything we need for some pan seared fish. I’ll make you a
deal: I clean them, you cook them.
Deal?”

She gave me a mock salute and suddenly there was a tug
on her line. Obediently, she did not squeal or frighten the fish by shouting.
She mouthed the words, “Oh my God,” to me.

I whispered to her, “Breathe and hold the fishing
pole lightly. He’s nibbling but you want him to grab hold. Don’t spook him!” We
waited, our eyes glued on the cork. Finally—the orange cork bobbed up and down
furiously! “Now, snatch him to the side and get the hook in!” Again, she
followed my directions. She was on her feet, her ponytail swinging wildly,
her
bare feet strong and sturdy on the pier.

“I think I got him Bullet!” She jumped up and down.

“No celebrating until we get him on the pier! Reel
him in, Lilly. That’s right, faster!” With a victorious grin, she pulled him up
on the pier where he flopped. He was about ten pounds, perfect for eating.
“What luck,
girl!
Great job! I am so proud of you!
Hooked your own pole, snagged a fish and brought him in! That’s what I call
good fishing!”

She laughed and held the fish with both hands,
ignoring his wriggling. Now would come the tough part. Girls usually hated to
watch you clean fish. I loved it. It wasn’t a big deal, it’s not
like
the fish were alive when you gutted it; well not
completely anyway. Lilly was the opposite. True to her word, she wasn’t
squeamish at all; she followed my instructions and made the perfect cut and
pulled out the guts without bursting any of the organs. I told her not to worry
about scaling it right now; we had more fish to catch.

“But do we need more than that? I don’t eat that
much, Bullet.” She looked so pretty, even with fish guts hanging on her
fingers.

“No, we’ll throw back whatever we catch now. No
sense in catching more than we need.” She tossed the fish in the cooler and
washed her hands in the lake water. We went on to catch five more but they were
all smaller than Lilly’s first fish.

After hours of joking and competing for the largest
fish, it was obvious that Lilly was the winner. Hands down the girl was truly a
natural. She didn’t whine, she didn’t complain — she just got in there and had
fun. That was my kind of girl. I wondered if Lily had more skills than she told
me.
Hmm…
Did I get played?
If I did I didn’t
care because I was impressed. I reached into the other cooler and pulled out a
beer. Popping the top, I handed it to her. “To the victor, go the spoils. This
Bud is for you Lilly Brightwood.” She raised her beer to me and took a big
swig. She let her hair down from her ponytail and shook it. God I wanted to put
my hands in it, and maybe some other parts of my body.

 

Chapter
Nine

Lilly

Eating the fish that I caught with my own hands was
a surreal experience. I had no idea that I was a proficient fisherman. I
thought at first it was a fluke of some sort
. But after I
caught three more I began to realize that I had hidden talents, hidden even
from myself. I was happy that I got to discover that with Bullet. It was a
thrill to actually beat him in something.

We did not say much sitting around the fire eating
our fish from the skillet. The fragrant garlic, pepper and lemon salt gave the
moist fish the perfect flavor. I think we were quiet because we were happy. But
underneath there somewhere, the tension was rising. We were quiet because we
were thinking about spending the night in that two-man tent. I don’t know where
the day went but it flew by. The sun had gone down over the lake and now the
Whippoorwills were singing to us. At least, that is what Bullet called them.
“Did you know that my father’s cabin was just 5 miles from here? We spent a lot
of summers up at Heron Lake. That seems like a long time ago. He was all over
that lake fishing from one side to the other.” He didn’t sound sad; it was more
of an observation than
anything
.

“And now you are continuing in his footsteps, only
you have a different lake. You can fish from one side to the other and spend
your summers up here,” I told him in between nibbles. The fish was hot and
delicious. It was so hot it was almost too hot to eat but so delicious you
couldn’t stop eating it. I told him so and we laughed about that. I wondered
why someone who loves living out in the wilderness so much would want to take a
job as a surgeon, which would obviously take him far from home. I toyed with
the idea of asking him. Since our conversation yesterday, he seemed more
willing to talk about those tough subjects. But before I could ask him he made
his own observation on that subject.

“I really miss living up here. Every time I hop on a
plane I wish it was headed to Blue Lake but my work takes me elsewhere.”

“Surely not forever.
You seem so, so different up here. It’s
like
the guy
in the city is not real somehow but this guy right now is real. Can you see a
future doing anything else other than cosmetic surgery? Not that there’s
anything wrong with that.”

He thought about the question and said, “I don’t see
how. Everything I have, everything I do takes me away from here. I guess some day
it will all work out.” He had a winsome smile but I detected a tinge of regret
in his voice.

“Another beer?”
I dug in the cooler for two more bottles.

“What the heck? I didn’t have to worry about driving
out here. I can afford to have a few
brewskis
.”

I giggled at the idea of drinking
brewskis
. I think the word is just funny. Whoa! My head is
a little light. Hey! Speaking of lights... “Do you have any lanterns? You know,
for the tent?”

“Yes we do, but you don’t want to use them right
now.”

“Well why not? I want there to be some light around
here and it’s getting pretty dark.”

“As a professional fisherman, you should know that
lights attract bugs. When you can, use your lanterns sparingly. It is best to
go by firelight when possible otherwise, you will attract every bug in a fifty
yard radius right to your tents.”

“Oh,” I said in an exaggerated way.
Man, was I toasted or what?
“I did not
know that, sir. Thank you for sharing your knowledge with me. Now I have to
pee. May I have a lantern so I can go pee?”
Uh-oh,
I feel the giggles coming on. I’ve definitely had my limit.

“The
restroom is right there but
if you are feeling more like a nature girl, pick
a tree—any tree.
Whichever you choose, take a flashlight and a roll of toilet paper with you.
Before you squat, look on the ground. Do not wipe your bottom with a leaf of
any kind. There are plenty of poisonous plants around here that can leave a
serious itchy rash behind.”

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