Free Apocalypse Cowboy: Futuristic Romance with Zombies by Eve Langlais Page B

glinting in the morning light. A natural beauty that he couldn’t help but admire. He especially enjoyed watching her rounded tush, lushly evident even in her loose clothes, swinging sexily as she wandered to the river’s edge.
    Brody kept an eye on her as he unpacked the fishing gear. Not because he feared her succumbing to danger but more because he couldn’t help himself. When was the last time he’d seen her face so soft, the lines of stress smoothing as she dipped her toes in the water, her shoes already discarded on the bank?
    Spreading a blanket, he sat down cross-legged with the fishing poles and threaded them back together, clipping bobbers, hooks, and bait on their ends. Hannah wandered from the water to sit beside him.
    “Where’s the worms?” she asked, lifting one of the baited hooks and wrinkling her nose at the hairball on the end.
    “This is not the Stone Age, woman. Real fishermen use lures. That furry one you’re looking at is a Murdich minnow streamer.”
    “Looks like something I pulled out of my hairbrush.”
    “Yeah, well, for the bass we want to catch, it will hopefully look like lunch. If those don’t work, though, I do have some plastic worms as backup. Grab this.” He handed her one of the poles. “That one is yours.”
    She stood with it, the hook swinging wildly.
    “Whoa! Watch where you’re pointing that thing, kitten.” She’d already caught his heart. He’d prefer she not catch his eyes or even his cheek with that wickedly sharp hook.
    At his rebuke, her cheeks blushed a becoming pink.
    “Sorry.” Contrite, she held the rod away from him. Standing, he gestured for her to follow him down to the water’s edge.
    “Now watch real close so you can see what I do,” he instructed, exaggerating the movements required to cast the line. With an ease born from years of experience, his lure flew across the water, landing with a little splash, the current pulling the line taut.
    Hannah adopted his stance and flicked her rod. Nothing happened, and she scowled at him and her fishing pole. “Why didn’t it work?”
    “Remember to click that button just as you fling it forward.”
    She pulled back again and whipped the rod forward. The hook and lure ejected a few feet and stopped dead.
    Brody held in a laugh as she cursed.
    “Stupid thing is broken.”
    Wedging his pole into the soft ground and bracing it with rocks, he went over to give her a hand.
    “Let me show you how it’s done.” He wrapped his arms around her, not exactly the way he was taught, but as a guy with the hots for this girl, any excuse to touch her worked.
    He fitted his hands over hers. Her lush bottom tucked into his groin, and he momentarily forgot what he meant to teach her.
    Teach her how to crave my touch again.
    His body knew exactly what it wanted, and given her proximity, she noted it too. She turned her face toward him with a gasp.
    “Brody!”
    “Would it be corny to say congrats you caught a big one?”

Chapter Fourteen
    Corny? Yes. But also still enticing. Hannah’s frustration with the whole fishing concept faded as her body interested itself in the erection poking against her backside. Even through the thick material of her bottoms, she could feel his ardent reaction to her presence.
    He wanted her. Judging by the moisture pooling between her thighs, making her sex slick, it wasn’t one-sided.
    A part of her argued she should move, not to give in to his sexual charm, but another part—the part that had spent so many nights aching for this—wouldn’t let her budge an inch.
    “I thought you were teaching me to cast a line?” Perhaps she could enjoy it a little longer by pretending an interest.
    He replied, but she barely heard him as he told and showed her how to cast the fishing line. She had more important things to focus on, such as the scent of him. The musky spice of him, the callused touch of his fingers on her hands, his warm breath as it tickled her neck as he kept talking.
    Her body