Catch And Release (Fleur de Lis) Read online

  Catch And Release

  By A.L. Vincent

  Catch And Release

  Copyright © 2016 by A.L. Vincent.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: November 2016

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-882-8

  ISBN-10: 1-68058-882-6

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  Just like Carly has her awesome guy friends who give her advice, listen to her problems, and are always there for her, I have mine. So I’m dedicating this one to my guys: Jason, Uncle Mark, Steve, and Cowboy.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  *BONUS* INSTANT ACCESS TO A SECRET CHAPTER!

  GET (5) FREE READS EVERY FRIDAY!

  “Datin’ is a lot like fishin’. Sometimes catch and release is the best method.”

  —Earl Dibbles Jr.

  Chapter One

  Wednesday, November 23

  Thanksgiving Eve

  I sing along with Mariah Carey to her song “All I Want for Christmas is You” as I wander around my little cabin. Alone for Christmas, again. I sigh. I look at the corner in my living room that would be perfect for a tree, a real one of course. One that would fill my apartment with that wonderful pine scent that screams, “It’s Christmas!”

  I’m not putting up a tree this year. There is no point in decorating a tree for just me and Sammy, my old dachshund. This year I’ll just buy scented candles. Again.

  I’m tired of being alone.

  I grab my cell phone off the counter and type out a text message, cursing myself the whole time.

  Hey Jack, give me a call when you can, will you?

  “Idiot,” I say to myself as I press the send button. That lovely adjective was meant for me, not Jack.

  My name is Carly Devereaux, and I’m a dating idiot. Jack isn’t going to reply. In fact, I’ve sworn never to call him again so many times that even I no longer believe myself when I say, “I’m not calling him again,” or, “This is the last last time I call him!” Jeesh. When I go to delete his number from my phone, instead of “Delete Number?” my phone says, “Again? Are you sure?” For the year and a half I’ve known him, it’s been one step forward, two steps back. We are now further back than when we started.

  Other than being an idiot, I really don’t know why I’m alone for the holidays. I’m not Angelina Jolie, but I have been compared to Drew Barrymore on more than one occasion. Maybe it’s because I’m more tomboyish than sophisticated. I wear my blonde hair in a ponytail about ninety percent of the time and flip-flops are a wardrobe staple. Or maybe it’s just my bad luck. Who knows?

  It’s the holidays that have me all messed up. I love Christmas. I love putting on some Christmas carols and decorating the tree with the ornaments I’ve collected over the years. I love cheesy Hallmark holiday movies. What I don’t love is doing all of this alone. I’ve gone a while without giving in and sending Jack a text message. I wish I hadn’t been scrolling through the channels and seen the commercial for How the Grinch Stole Christmas, my personal favorite. That was the trigger that had me reaching for the phone.

  “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” plays from my phone. I know it’s a little early for a Christmas ringtone, but like I said, I’m a sucker for the holidays. I have to say, though, Christmas would be a whole lot merrier if I had someone special to spend it with.

  My heart skips a beat as I reach for the phone. Please be Jack, please be Jack, I say to myself.

  It isn’t.

  Ryder: At the Wahoo. U coming?

  I sigh on that one. Ryder is one of my best friends. But lately, he’s been giving me butterflies and mixed signals. He gives me these long, deep looks from those chocolate brown eyes of his, kisses me, and flirts. We’ve been friends forever. Wouldn’t something have happened before now?

  Ryder’s been known to ride to my rescue. My very own hero in a silver Camaro. Last month, I was on my way to Florida to meet my parents for a much needed vacation. I never made it. A dump truck decided to share the lane with me, apparently not realizing there’s not really enough room for a dump truck and me. My car did not fare well in this situation, and I was stuck an hour away from home. After dialing just about everyone in my phone with no luck, I called Ryder. His car was in the shop, so he borrowed a car to come save me. I was so relieved to see his tall, lanky frame resting against that car that afternoon. Not only did he come get me, he took me to dinner that night.

  We grew up together and Ryder’s always been there for me. His infectious smile coaxes me out of whatever funk I’m in. It’s only in the last couple of months that I’ve realized I have a small crush on him, and having no clue what’s going on in his head, I’ve been fighting it since.

  “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” plays again.

  Mr. Right: At the Wahoo, Ryder’s here. U coming?

  I do have a Mr. Right in my life. His real name is Joey, and he is another one of my best friends. We grew up together too. Ryder is a few years younger than me, while Joey and I are the same age.

  How did Joey get this nickname? A few weeks ago, we were hanging out together, and he and I were having a big discussion about where my life was going. Did I really want to bartend forever? What did I want to do? Bar work has a shelf life, and no one really wants to be slinging drinks when they’re fifty. In the midst of this mid-midlife crisis I seem to be having, I talked with Joey. He gave me some advice, and like always, it was dead on. I needed to figure out what it was that made me happy and go for it.

  Later that night, I sent him a text message.

  Are you right all the time?

  My phone rang. It was Joey, and I answered, “Hello.”

  “Yes, I’m always right,” he said.

  He hung up without saying anything else. No hi, no bye, nothing.

  I giggled a little and texted him again.

  Does that make you my Mr. Right?

  He did not respond.

  He doesn’t think it’s as funny as I do, apparently. Because of this, he’s still in my phone as Mr. Right. He’s not happy about
it. He frequently mentions that I am not to tell anyone that he’s my Mr. Right. Why? I don’t know. I think it’s pretty funny.

  I look at my grumpy dachshund. “It looks like I’m going out tonight. You going to hold down the fort?”

  She looks at me with dark brown eyes and growls.

  I take that as a yes and send an affirmative answer to both Ryder and Mr. Right. I’d be there in thirty minutes.

  ***

  “What’s up?” Joey asks as I walk up to him in the Wild Wahoo. The Wahoo is a local bar we hang out in all the time. We are regulars, I guess you could say. It’s your average hole-in-the-wall bar. Cold beer, pool tables, neon signs, and a great jukebox. Not only am I a regular, I bartend there. I took the job after leaving a hotel manager job in Houston. Turns out the traffic and the guy I had moved there with were not for me. I had come back home to Bon Chance, and with employment opportunities being limited, I took the bartending job. Turned out I loved it, so I stayed. I like talking to people, the hours aren’t bad, and it allows me to play around with writing, something I’ve wanted to do since high school.

  Joey is sitting at the bar. As always, he’s wearing a t-shirt, shorts, and a ball cap. Joey is quite the looker, and he’s been known to turn heads. He’s a little bit taller than me, has dark hair, dark eyes, and an olive complexion. But my favorite thing about Joey is his dimples. Which he flashes regularly.

  “Not much. Been thinking about writing again,” I say. I usually spend a few hours in the morning pondering ideas and writing some down. So far, the only thing that has stuck is something about dating and men. I haven’t completely figured a story out yet, but I will.

  “It’s about time,” he says. “So whatcha thinking of writing about?”

  “I’m kind of thinking about writing a book about dating.”

  He almost chokes. “You? A book on dating? Are you writing about what not to do?”

  That gets him a punch in the arm, which he and Ryder get often. Someone has to keep them in line.

  “No, I’m serious,” I say. “It’s the holidays. I’m tired of being alone. I want someone to trim the tree with. I want someone to kiss under the mistletoe and to kiss on New Year’s Eve. I’m thinking about seriously looking for Prince Charming for Christmas. I’m thinking about keeping a journal and seeing what I can come up with for writing ideas. In fact, I already put my profile back online. They promise plenty of fish. I just hope they have some fish worth keeping.”

  “You know what I told you about bringing home those shad.”

  One night when I was complaining about my love life, Joey told me about shad, a type of throw-back fish that no one wants. He told me that night, “Carly, you’ve got to stop bringing home those stinky, no good fish. Look for something you want to keep.”

  “You can’t catch a man by Christmas. I don’t care how well stocked the pond is.”

  I punch him in the arm again. “Oh really?”

  “Oh really what?” I smile when I hear Ryder’s voice. I saw him when I came in. He was playing pool. I didn’t want to interrupt so I went to sit with Joey by the bar.

  I sigh. “I need a man.”

  He smiles mischievously and winks. “Well, you got one right here. What exactly is it that you need?”

  My stomach flutters, my mind seizes up like cement, and I blurt out, “Fishing. I need to go fishing.”

  He cuts his eyes at me. Ryder is gorgeous. He has a genuine smile that lights up his face. But what gets me is his eyes. He has the most amazing brown eyes of anyone I’ve ever seen. They sparkle with his mischievous sense of humor. When he cares for you, you know it because you can see it. So, I know he cares about me. I just don’t know if it’s more than friendship.

  “You? Fishing?”

  “Yes. I like to fish.” I stare into his eyes for a moment more, then stammer, “Music. We need music.”

  I pull some bills out of my pocket. Ryder and Joey hand me a couple more and I escape to the jukebox to regain my composure. I play lighthearted tunes. Nothing sad. I also resist the urge to play Christmas carols, as I’m quite sure the crowd will revolt.

  I go back to Joey and Ryder. We talk a little more about nothing serious, and later Ryder gets up to leave. He shakes Joey’s hand and stands in front of me.

  He leans in slowly and places a soft kiss on my lips.

  “Happy fishing,” he says.

  I smile, then reply, “You too.” What? What the hell did I just say? I shake my head.

  When he leaves, I turn to Joey.

  “I need your feedback on something.”

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

  “What kinds of things does a man do to let a woman know he’s interested?”

  “Usually, he tells her.”

  “Okay.” That wasn’t helpful, so I ask, “Besides that?”

  “Calls her,” he adds, before the light bulb goes off. “Oh…like physical kind of stuff? Let’s see. Finds reasons to touch you.”

  “Ryder does that.”

  “Wait, what does this have to do with Ryder?” he asks.

  “I think Ryder might be flirting with me.”

  Joey sets his beer down and turns to look at me. “Carly. Ryder flirts with everyone.”

  “But what if it’s different? Anyway, what else do guys do?”

  “Lots of eye contact.”

  Okay, Ryder does that too. I keep that thought to myself. Earlier that evening, I caught him looking at me over the pool table. According to what Joey said, the signs are all there. Was something different now? I guess I just need to talk to him about it. I had a lot to think about, but I’d think about it later, like, tomorrow. Right now, I just want to hang out with Joey and listen to some good music. As Scarlett says, “After all, tomorrow is another day.”

  Chapter Two

  Thursday, November 24

  Thanksgiving

  Having the day off, I go to eat breakfast at Aunt Glinda’s. Aunt Glinda really isn’t my aunt, but we all call her that. Who’s we? The Boonies, as I call us. It’s the little group I grew up with. Noah, my older brother, and his friend, Emily, are the oldest. Joey and I are next. Then the youngest group consists of Grace, Gabriel, Ryder, and my little brother, Ben.

  Glinda’s actually Gabriel’s grandma. Gabriel, Grace, Emily, and Noah all moved away after graduating, just like I did when I moved to Houston. Grace is playing in a band in New Orleans, and Gabe is with a band in Austin. Noah is away in the Marines. Unfortunately, we have lost touch with Emily since she went away to Lafayette to go to college. It has been a while since we’ve all been together, and I miss them all so much.

  I round up Sammy and we make the short walk to the Redbird Inn that Glinda owns. She runs a successful bed and breakfast in Bon Chance. The main house is raised on posts like most of the buildings in town. I pat the two old hounds that lay on the wide covered porch before I knock on the cardinal red door.

  “Hello, pretty lady,” Daniel says as he opens the door.

  “Good morning!”

  “Come on in, you two, and have some breakfast.”

  Sammy and I follow him into the large common room where Glinda sets up her meals. We grew up in the house, and it hasn’t changed much over the years. Always decorated with comfort in mind first, big, overstuffed chairs sit in front of the fireplace, and books and games line the bookshelves. One wall has French doors that open up to the gulf.

  A buffet piled high with silver serving dishes sits against one wall. This morning, those dishes are filled with eggs, grits, sausage, and bacon. My stomach growls as the heavenly scent of bacon hits my nostrils.

  An old cypress table that Glinda has had for as long as I can remember is in front of the buffet table. Daniel takes a seat at one end, where the newspaper he’s reading lays.

  I make a cup of coffee and pile a plate high with eggs, bacon, and my personal favorite, cheese grits, then sit down across from him.

  “Carly? Is that you, dear?” Glinda calls from the kitchen.


  “It’s me.”

  Glinda comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands off on the Pinch Me apron that is her favorite. Gabe bought it for her years ago in New Orleans. It has a big red crawfish waving its big pinchers.

  I stand and hug her as she comes to the buffet to pour a cup of coffee for herself before taking the seat at the head of the table.

  “How is the job search coming along?” Daniel asks.

  “It’s going. I spent the morning browsing the online classifieds. It would help if I knew what I wanted to do. I’m not sure I want to go back into the hotel business.”

  “You try one of those fancy boutique hotels in New Orleans?”

  “I don’t know if I have enough experience yet for that. I didn’t stay in Houston long enough.”

  “Something will pop up,” Daniel says.

  “I know. I’m going to keep looking.”

  “And what about dating?” Glinda asks. “Any good prospects?”

  I fill her in on all of it. Except Jack. I don’t talk to many people about him. Ryder knows, and Joey, but no one else really. I do tell them about Ryder and his mixed signals.

  “Well, he is Ryder, dear,” Glinda says. “That boy is not going to settle down anytime soon.”

  “True.”

  “So, what do you have planned for the rest of your day?” Glinda asks.

  “I’m going to meet Joey later for drinks. He’s been working so much lately, I haven’t had a lot of time to hang out with him.”

  “That’s good,” Glinda says. “You know, Joey’s quite the looker. You ever thought about dating him?”

  “Joey?” I laugh. “Joey’s my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without him. I’m not going to mess that up by dating him. That would be a train wreck!”