Moving forward, stepping into the moving stream, she focused on not falling on her ass and keeping the fish on the end of the line. Faithfully, she pulled the line, wedging her borrowed boots into the streambed, adjusting her feet to shoulders’ width for better leverage. Zeke moved from behind her to beside her, clasping a net he must have nabbed at some point. When the fish got close enough, he reached out and grabbed the line, lifting the writhing fish into the sunlight.

Her catch wasn’t very big, but it was lovely, with pink and salmon striping catching iridescent in the sunlight.

“Oh, I did it,” she crowed, punching a fist into the air, nearly falling into the gurgling waters at her feet. She steadied herself and beamed at Zeke, who had untangled the fish from the net. “Zeke, I caught a fish.”

Zeke cradled the slender fish in his paw and grinned up at her. “A nice one, too. This is a rainbow trout. You want to touch it?” Zeke removed the jig from the fish’s lip but kept the fellow in the water.

Chase bent down, holding the rod aloft so she didn’t accidently dunk it. Reaching out a finger, she touched the fish. Didn’t really feel slimy. “Cool.”

Zeke smiled. “I’m letting him go now.”

“We’re letting him go? We’re not going to eat him?”

Zeke chuckled. “Not unless you want to clean it.”

“No. I want to set him free.”

At her words, Zeke released the fish, and it flipped away, brown tail waving a goodbye.

“I can’t believe you caught that trout.” Zeke rose, a somewhat bemused look on his face.

“I can. I have a good guide.” She handed him the fly rod and shaded her eyes, looking in the direction in which her fish had disappeared. “I hope my fish has a good life, and when he thinks back on getting caught, he will know that I had nothing but goodwill for him.”

Zeke laughed. “You’re an actress, all right.”

Chase smiled at him. “You know, I needed that small victory because last night in my Adulting in the Kitchen 101 class, I had multiple failures.”

“Adulting?”

She followed him to the bank, stepping carefully in the moving water. “That’s what Olivia calls her program. Well, technically it’s Square One, but essentially it’s learning how to do shit you don’t know how to do because no one ever taught you how to do it.”

Zeke made a confused face. “So like what?”

“Like chopping onions and not cutting off your finger,” she said, holding up her bandaged pinkie. “Or knowing what kind of soap to use in a dishwasher.”

“Oh no. You didn’t,” he said, looking absolutely delighted.

“I did. We had to mop for over an hour.”

Zeke started laughing, and the sound made her tummy all floppy. Kind of like that fish. “You used dish soap?”