Sage reached for Avery’s Tupperware as she said, “Why don’t you come over here and have something to eat? You can get all messy in the dirt after.”

Avery strode through the grass, which was shorter around the pond, and sat next to her mom on the plaid blanket. 

“I wasn’t sure what to pack, but there’s those applesauce pouches with the fancy tops,” I started.

“Those are my favorite!” Avery squealed, reaching her hand into the container once Sage had the lid off. 

Sage let out a small laugh. “Have at it.”

Avery took the container from her, digging through the contents. You would have thought I’d gotten her a pony or something by the look on her face. 

“I brought her a sandwich, too, just in case,” I told Sage. 

“Thank you. She might not eat it, given her current infatuation with the other things you brought her, but she appreciates it. We appreciate it.”

I nodded, unwrapping my sandwich. Sage picked one up, doing the same. 

We sat in silence, listening to the birds chirp in the pine trees as we ate. Even Avery was quiet, looking out at the pond. An occasional dragonfly would swoop down for water, then flutter away. 

Nature calmed a wild mind, its presence drawing even the most stressed person to a point of relaxation. You couldn’t help but feel content out here, which was why I frequently visited. Sometimes, when life was too much, sitting outside with only the sounds of the countryside was the one thing I needed. 

My fears, my nerves, they all disappeared when I was out here. Whether it was on horseback or foot, this was the only medicine I needed. And here I sat, sharing it with the two girls who came into my life unexpectedly. 

While it was different, sharing this peace with them, I wouldn’t change a thing.

That should scare me, make me run to the hills and not look back, but it didn’t. Ever since my ex instilled such a huge self-doubt in me, I hadn’t wanted to share any parts of my life with someone else. But yet, here I sat on a date that I’d put together with the two of them. 

I just hoped I was making the right decision.

***

“This is too hard,” Avery complained from my left.

“Maybe you just need a smaller pole,” I told her. I should have brought a kids’ pole, but I hadn’t been thinking. 

I was already fucking this up.

“I don’t have one of those,” she said while reeling in the line. The hook had already caught on a rock, a tree limb, and now grass under the water. 

I watched the line come in, sending ripples through the pond. “I’ll get you one.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Sage said from the rock she was sitting on a few feet behind us.

I cast a glance over my shoulder at her. “Fishing takes practice, and—” I turned back to Avery just as the hook reached the tip of her pole. “—you need practice.”

“What if I’m just never going to be good at fishing?” Avery asked, a slight quiver to her voice.

I knelt beside her so we were eye level, setting a gentle hand on her elbow so she’d face me. “You don’t have to be good at everything, but don’t expect it right away.” I looked at a tree behind her, trying to think up an example, then brought my eyes back to hers. “Remember your first day of lessons? When we went over the small details, like leg pressure and how to hold the reins?”

Avery nodded.

“Well, think of fishing like that. Right now, you’re just getting used to the pole, the same way you got used to the horse. Once you’re comfortable with the pole, then you focus on the small details. Like aiming where you want your hook to land or how long you want your bait in the water.” I dropped my hand from her elbow, then wrapped it around hers on the pole, giving a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to be a pro at everything the second you start, right?”

She shook her head. “But I want to be good at it.”

I dropped my hand to my knee. “You will. I’ll help you.” Rising, I kept my eyes down on her. “But that starts with a fishing pole meant for your size. Next time we come out here, I’ll make sure you have one.”

“Next time?” Avery and Sage questioned in unison.

I gave a stern nod. “Next time. Now why doesn’t your mom give it a shot?” I turned to Sage.

Her eyes widened. “No way.”

“I promised I’d teach you.”

Sage crossed her arms. “I think Avery wants to keep trying.”

Avery held the pole in her mom’s direction. “You can have a turn.”

Sage gave a tight-lip smile, clearly wishing Avery hadn’t said that. “Are you sure?”

Avery nodded. “Super sure.”

Sage stood, coming forward to reluctantly grab it from her. “Alright.”

Avery ambled over to the blanket where she had a pile of rocks she was collecting and sat, sifting through them.

Sage held the pole toward my chest. “Teach me, ol’ wise one.”

I cocked a brow. “Wise one, huh?”

She shrugged, pink tinging the apples of her cheeks as a small smile played on her lips. “You seem to be very knowledgeable in a lot of areas.”

I wrapped my hand around hers on the pole, pulling her toward me and then spinning her so her back was to my front. My other hand grabbed the one she didn’t have on the pole and led it to the reel so she could get a feel for it before casting out. But instead of telling her what each part did and how to use it, I did the most ludicrous thing I possibly could have done.

I held my chin just above the shell of her ear, the both of us looking out at the water. “I can teach you a lot of things, Sage,” I murmured.

Her chest rose and fell as her breathing deepened. “Can you?” she asked breathlessly.

Her hair brushed the stubble on my cheek. “Like you said, I’m knowledgeable in a lot of areas.”

What the fuck was I doing?

Playing a dangerous game of how far can I go was not how I had planned this to turn out. But here I was, standing behind Sage, hoping like hell that my boner wasn’t touching her ass, all because there were a lot of other things that popped into my mind the moment she said that. 

I should definitely not be thinking of her this way. Especially on our first date. 

Blinking the thoughts away, I adjusted her hand on the pole. “You hold the bail as you cast, then release it when it’s out. It’ll stop your line when you’re ready. Then wind here—” I moved her hand to the handle on the reel. “—to bring the line back in.”