I swear my pulse hasn’t calmed down since—because it wasn’t just a kiss, it was a confession. That kiss told me I’m not the only one who’s moved into Feelings Territory. Now my mind is a pile of unfamiliar thoughts: If we both feel something, are we going to try to make it into a relationship? Finn argued against every idea I had to rescue his business, but if he signs on for the Adventure Channel show, then according to the contract, we can’t be together. And if he turns down the television show, he’ll most likely lose his family business and not be in the best mood for a new relationship anyway.

As the engine chugs and pulls us away from the dock and into the open water, my brain is a mess, my body is on fire for this hot fisherman version of Finn (which—I giddily recall—is everyday Finn)... and I have no idea how to handle a rod and reel as big as the one he retrieves for me.

He hands it over silently, giving me a patronizing pat on the head, and we step closer to listen to the safety guidelines with the other dozen tourists gathered on the deck. I expected Finn to space out during this, or carefully slip away to go check out the boat, but he seems riveted. Whether he’s seeing how sportfishing is handled on a professional level, or he’s just that in love with fishing, I can’t tell. But I love that he isn’t acting like it’s beneath him. He’s excited, even for this little half-day trip.

When Captain Steve has finished his spiel, we find a spot at the back corner of the boat, and Finn works quietly with the wind whipping his fleece flush against his chest. He sets up our rods, adjusts my line and my reel, and then leaves, telling me to “hang on.” A few minutes later, Finn returns with a pair of boots in one hand and a baseball cap with the boat’s logo in the other.

“It gets messy,” he says. He hands me the boots and puts the cap on my head, carefully feeding my ponytail through the back, whispering, “There,” once it’s situated. His hazel eyes dip down to my mouth, as if he’s considering kissing me again, but when he blinks, the look is gone. “Ready?”

“Am I ready to kick your ass in fish counts?” I ask, pulling the cap lower over my eyes before stepping into the giant boots. “You betcha.”