Dan All Over Again: Dan All Over Again / The Mountie Steals A Wife

“And still roll on the floor laughing?”

Their eyes met over their laughter, and she remembered how they cuddled up in front of the television all night watching Monty Python tapes…among other activities. Her laugh slowly came to a stop, her smile faded. So did his. Good times.

She touched her notepad. “Well, those crazy days are behind me now.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Is not.”

He put on his sunglasses and concentrated on the water ahead. Her heart went pitty-pat again. Not a good sign. She felt an odd swell of pride as she studied him, captain of his boat, straight shoulders and lifted chin. Singing the words to “No Woman No Cry” with his slightly off-key voice.

She picked up the tape case to distract herself. “No wonder they laughed me out of that karaoke bar years ago. I thought this song was ‘Nose runnin’, nose wipe.’”

He laughed. “Is that what you were singing?”

“Well, could I help it if the darned screen wasn’t working right?”

“Well, you did trip and spill your margarita on the machine.”

“Only after you pinched my butt as I walked up there.”

He grinned, and then reached out toward her derriere. “I couldn’t resist.”

She held Sammy between them like a hairy shield. “Resist now, buddy!”

It didn’t have the desired effect. Dan laughed again. “Cassie, you really haven’t changed much.”

“I have, too!” She juggled Sammy and opened her notepad. “See! Look at all the items I’ve marked off my lists. I am an organized, sensible woman!”

He moved closer, making her feel not the least bit sensible. “And I’ll bet by the time you get off this boat, you’ll be crazy about me all over again.”

Lordy, she’d just gotten on the boat and she was already feeling kind of crazy. Not that she’d act on it. No way, uh-uh. She fumbled with her notepad. “See, there’s nothing about being crazy about you in here.” She moved her finger over Pick up doggie biscuits and Buy new pooper-scooper.

“I think I’m honored.” He scanned the list. “You don’t do anything that’s not on your lists, then?”

“Other than, you know, the basic daily stuff, no, not a thing, I live and die by these lists, these lists are what make me a responsible adult who doesn’t do impulsive things that could cause trouble for herself and others, and who doesn’t—I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” She backed away from him, took a breath and turned to her bad habits page. Beneath Cluttered desk, she wrote, Skimble scamble—again. She wanted to write Heart going pitty-pat over Dan—again but she held back, since he was watching.

He was assessing her with those hazel eyes of his. Then he took the pen and turned to a new page. He wrote Dan’s List and beneath that, Find out how much of the old Cass is buried beneath these silly lists.

She tugged the notepad back and wrote None!

4

DAN AND CASSIE FOLLOWED the shoreline of Keewaydin Island, a thin strip of land separating the inland waterway from the Gulf. Vacation cabins were sprinkled among the tall Australian pines, high up on stilts to prevent flooding during storms. She remembered where the land narrowed, the private little place known as Fantasy Island among the boating crowd. She and Dan couldn’t afford a honeymoon trip, so they’d camped out there over the weekend. Boy, had he made a fantasy or two come true.

She shook her head. Enough of those thoughts!

“Mosquitoes?” he asked, peering at her over the rim of his sunglasses.

“Yes, nasty little creatures.” She made a show of slapping her neck and then him for causing her errant thoughts.

“Geez, that one must have been the size of Sammy,” he said when she smacked a good one on his shoulder.

Sammy barked in agreement.

“It was,” she said with a solemn nod. “And there’s another one right there…” She started moving forward, but he grabbed her hand and linked their fingers.

“I’ll take my chances with the mosquito, thank you.”

“Fine. Let it suck all your blood out. I can use you as a flag to signal for help.”

He stared at her. “How can you talk like that and keep a straight face?”

She gave him an innocent look. She was startled by their joined hands and extricated herself. With a flush on her face, she forced her gaze out to the Gulf. “Wow, I forgot how beautiful it is out here.”

Green water stretched out to the west and seemed to drop right off the horizon. Two pelicans glided just a few feet above the water’s smooth surface hunting for breakfast. One of them dive-bombed the water with an ungainly splash.

He cut the engine and became very still. “I can feel them.”

“Feel who?” She looked around with a worried expression.

“The fish.” He took off his sunglasses and let the boat idle as he scanned the waters.

“Is this how you…sense them?”

“Shh…” He looked the picture of concentration. His eyes narrowed, zoning in on one spot, then another. His spread fingers followed his gaze, like one of those water-searching twigs.

All the boats in the area slowed their engines, and the men on board watched Dan, presumably waiting for the fishing god to choose his spot. She rolled her eyes. They sure did take this seriously.

“Shh,” he said again.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you were thinking.”

He pushed the gas lever and they headed for Shell Island, a spot of land where Capri Pass led to Marco Island. He found a place where the mangroves grew out over the water and dropped anchor. Everyone else tried to grab a place nearby, all fighting for position.

“I’ll bet you’re a popular partner for tournaments,” she said.

“I get a call or two. I used to have fishing-related companies sponsor me for the big tournaments, but now I sponsor myself. Then I get to keep all the money.” He opened a tackle box built right into the boat’s interior.

“I’m impressed. I didn’t realize you could actually make a living doing this.” She sat on the backbench next to him, studying the tackle in the shelves. “There are so many types of lures, so many colors.”

“Depends on what you want the fish to think it is: bugs, crabs or frogs.” She watched him tie the lure to his fishing line as though he’d done it a million times. Of course, he probably had. “Then you have to take water condition and time of day into consideration.”

“Sounds complicated.” She opened her bag and started pulling out the stuff she’d brought, and then readied her notepad. “Water bowl for Sammy, check. Sunblock, check. Fishing magazine, check. Mosquito repellent, check. Bottled water—”

“Good grief, Cass, did you bring your whole medicine chest?”