Read Thanksgiving Groom for Free Online Page B

something to do with her.
    Penelope walked next to Tucker. Tiptoeing on her left foot to keep the weight off her ankle. He walked slower than she knew he would have liked—for her. She smiled a little.
    He wasn’t what she’d come to Treasure Creek looking for. He was too much like what she’d left behind. She could see it in his eyes, that he was driven, that he was all about his career. She had spent her life with men like Tucker. Her father was one. Her brother was another.
    And the women in their lives were forgotten trophies. Their wives, girlfriends and daughters were paraded when needed. They were dressed in designer gowns, draped in jewels and taken out on the town when an event required their presence. And then they sat at home,or entertained themselves when the men lives were busy with their careers.
    She was positive that not everyone in their circle of friends lived that way. She had friends from college who had gone on to pursue careers. Her mother had friends in business. It was just the life of a Lear. Or a Lear woman.
    But not today, with Tucker Lawson walking next to her. They were going fishing. She smiled again, because this was her adventure. This was Penelope Lear reinvented.
    She glanced at Tucker in his faded jeans, hiking boots and the heavy jacket over his flannel shirt. She could imagine him in a suit, standing in a courtroom or sitting behind a massive desk. She wasn’t the only one reinventing herself.
    They continued on in silence, walking on a trail that was rocky and sloped downhill. Trees were sparse here, leading down to the stream. Back at the cabin they were heavy and towered toward the sky.
    The rushing water of the stream could be heard before the stream came into view. But when she saw it, she had to stop, had to stare. Clear water rushed, pounding over rocks and boulders. Downstream, just a short distance, the swift moving water slowed and pooled.
    â€œWow.”
    â€œYeah.” Tucker held her elbow and guided her over the rough terrain. “You’re stubborn.”
    â€œSo I’ve been told. And people always manage to make it seem like a bad thing. But it could be good, if you think about it.”
    He smiled and shook his head. “Sure. Of course.”
    â€œWilma sent lunch with me.”
    â€œDid she really?” He led her to a place at the edge of the stream where animals had stopped to drink. Hoof and paw prints were still visible in the soft earth. Something had dug near the edge of the water.
    Penelope studied the paw prints. “What made these?”
    He shrugged. “Everything. Elk, bear, fox. Up here, so far from any kind of settlement or town, there is just about anything you could imagine.”
    â€œDo you think we’ll catch fish for dinner?”
    He handed her the pole. “We can try.”
    â€œWhat do I do?”
    He laughed. “Cast your line into the water.”
    â€œYou say ‘cast’ like I should know what that is.”
    He moved behind her, his arms wrapping around her. He took the fishing pole in his hands and guided hers. “Cast it easy. Don’t throw it out there. Just a nice, easy swing, and then you have to remember to set the hook if you feel a fish bite it.”
    â€œOkay, I can do that.” She breathed in deep, trying to ignore the way he leaned in close, the way his chin brushed her cheek as he held her, showing her the way to cast out.
    She tried, but couldn’t ignore the fact that his arms were strong and he smelled like soap and the outdoors. His hands were rough but gentle.
    â€œOf course you can do it.” He whispered close to her ear as he helped her cast. “But careful or you’ll tangle your line. Don’t cast too far or you’ll end up with your hook in a tree.”
    â€œI can do this,” she repeated and swung the rod, watching as the line and the bait flew through the air, and then landed with a soft plunk in the calmer pool of