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“Shouldn’t we help?” she asked.
    “I offered, but Pop said I’d only be in the way. These guys have been coming to this lake once a month for nearly twenty years. They’ve got their routine down to an art form. Besides, it looks like they’re ready.”
    “Damn,” Pop said, walking over to them. “Hate that we’re getting such a late start.”
    “Late start?” she muttered, realizing their tardiness was her fault. “Sorry.”
    Ewan gave her a quick squeeze. “No worries, Nat. Pop would have been complaining about being late even if he’d been out here at daybreak.”
    Pat grinned. “Never too early to get out on that water.”
    The older man with the truck finished tying the boat to the pier and walked over to greet them. Natalie thought he appeared to be about the same age as Ewan’s father, though Pat had aged a bit better than his friend, who was totally bald and supporting at least two spare tires around his middle. He was dressed in head-to-toe camouflage and the word redneck briefly floated through her city-girl mind.
    “Well hello, Ewan. Long time, no see,” he said, shaking hands with Ewan. “I was glad to hear you were joining us this weekend. And who is this pretty lady?”
    Ewan did the introductions. “Moose, this is Natalie Miller, a friend from California.
    Nat, this is Moose.”
    Moose gripped her hand, shaking it firmly.
    “Please God, tell me Moose is not your given name.”
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    The man laughed, albeit a bit too loudly for Natalie, who fought not to wince at the sound. “Nah. It’s a nickname, but I probably shouldn’t share how I got it in mixed company. Not polite.”
    Natalie blushed, but Pat just shook his head, laughing. “Sweet Mary, you’ve been trying to pass that lie off as the truth for forty years.”
    “Maybe one of these years it’ll stick,” Moose said.
    Natalie narrowed her eyes playfully, feigning anger at being taken in by his crude joke. “You hunt for moose?” she asked, thinking he certainly looked the part.
    “His last name is Moosefield,” Ewan explained.
    “Ah.” She grinned and shook her head. “Well, that’s certainly a letdown. Shame on you, Moose.”
    “You were thinking something really naughty, weren’t you, sweet stuff?” Moose teased, enjoying having a bit of fun at her expense.
    It was a shame he’d just met his match. “Nope, not really. But then I know how you fishermen are with your fish tales.” She held her hands up, as if she were measuring something a couple feet long, before slowly drawing them together until there was only an inch or two between her palms.
    Pat hooted with laughter. “Hee hee! She’s got your number, old boy. Good girl, Natalie.”
    Moose guffawed loudly before grasping her hand. “Come on and get in this boat, sweet stuff. This is gonna be fun. I bet I make a real fisherman outta you and before the day is through, you’ll be telling some fish tales of your own.”
    Ewan and Pat followed them aboard the boat. They all took a seat and Natalie relaxed as Moose took them for a cruise farther out onto the lake. They pulled back in close to shore before Moose cut the engine. According to Pat, they’d arrived at their world famous fishing spot.
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    “World famous, eh?” she asked. “Funny. I don’t see any paparazzi hovering on the shoreline.”
    Moose laughed. “That’s because it’s a super-secret spot.”
    “How do you know you can trust me not to divulge the location?”
    Pat looked at her with a crooked grin, acting as if he’d just realized their mistake. “I knew we should have blindfolded her. You said we could trust her, Ewan.”
    Ewan looked at her with mock seriousness. “I did vouch for your upstanding character, Nat.”
    “You lied to your father?” she asked. “Pretty sure you go to hell for that, hotshot.”
    Moose came over and slapped her on the shoulder. “I like this gal. She’s got spirit.
    Come on now. We need to get organized. The fish