Free A Glimmer of Hope: A Novella Prequel to Isle of Hope by Julie Lessman

neck. “Sorry, babe, but Cat’s right—it wouldn’t be fair for me to bait your hook. You know, showing partiality and all that.”
    “I’ll show you partiality,” Lacey mumbled, shooting Jack a gaze thinner than the 20-lb. test on her rod. With a scrunch of her nose, she held her breath while she grabbed a live shrimp, throat going dry when the smelly thing squirmed in her hand. Lips clamped to thwart a heave, she hooked the bait with shaky fingers, then dashed to the edge of the dock and dropped her rod with a clatter. Fending off another heave, she quickly bent to rinse in the river, thinking Cat was probably right—she was a baby.
    But … she was also a winner …
    “Uh … you finally ready, Carmichael? Or do you need baby wipes too?” Cat stood there with a smirk, rod propped straight up while her line dangled with a shrimp bigger than her fist.
    Lacey hiked her chin. “Since they’re ‘ baby’ wipes, Catfish, maybe you better keep ’em.”
    “Okay, ladies, play nice, and save the barbs for the fish.” Jack ambled to the edge of the dock, dead center while he motioned both girls forward, one on either side. “And may the best woman win,” he said with a wink at Lacey, arms straight up in the air. “On your mark …”
    Lacey poised on the edge, thumb knuckle-white on the button of her bait-casting reel and eyes fixed on the water.
    “Get set …”
    She and Cat swung their rods back, the tension in their bodies strung as tightly as the line in their reels.
    “Go!” Jack’s arms slammed down, and with expert snaps of their wrists, both girls cast their lines into the swirling river.
    Lacey yanked hard to make her cork pop on the surface, silently praying that slimy shrimp dangling below would hook the prize. Cat popped her rig again and Lacey followed suit, popping hers several more times in her drive to win despite the advice Jack always gave.
    “Remember, Lace, slow is key, nice and easy and lots of patience.”
    “Not when you’re trying to win,” she muttered under her breath, determined that the only “nice and easy” she wanted to see was Cat swinging on that rope into the Skidaway River. Just like always whenever she and Cat competed over the years in challenges that Lacey usually won. But back then there had always been plenty of tease and laughter, unlike lately when Cat seemed to give Lacey the cold shoulder more and more. Shaking off a stab of regret, Lacey focused hard on her line, working it without mercy.
    “Yes!” Deck shoes braced to the dock, Cat whooped as she struggled to haul in a monster that sank Lacey’s hopes deeper than the stupid shrimp on her own hook.
    “Wow, Cat—that’s a real whopper!” Shannon hurried over, gaping at the fish in awe.
    “Yeah, Catfish, talk about a pretty sight,” Jack said, voice tinged with a little too much approval to suit Lacey as he examined the biggest sea trout Lacey had ever seen.
    “Thanks, Jack.” Cat shot Lacey a smug smile. “ And a sight prettier than your girlfriend will be after she swings on that rope, I can tell you that.” She fluttered her lashes at Lacey. “Then you can really wash that stink off your hands, Lace.” Her sweet smile went awry. “And anywhere else.”
    She hitched her catch on an already loaded stringer and dropped it back in the water before sauntering over to sit like a queen presiding over her court. Palms flat on the wide arms of her Adirondack chair, she wiggled her brows. “Time for a bath, Lace, and make it snappy, will ya? I’m ready to celebrate with ice cream.”
    Jack relieved Lacey of her rod and kissed her nose. “You’ll always be a winner to me, babe.” He winked. “Even if you are all wet.”
    Blasting out a loud exhale, Lacey marched over to extend her hand to Cat, figuring if she couldn’t win, she could at least be a good loser. “Nice catch, Catfish. Congratulations.”
    “Why thank you, Lace.” She folded her hands on her stomach and waited. They were all