The Mafia’s Feisty Captive
“Easy for you to say. You probably came out of the womb with a fishing rod in hand.”
He burst out laughing, shaking his head. “How about we make it interesting? A little competition, whoever catches the most fish gets one wish from the loser.”
I arched my brow and smirked. “You’re on.”
Mimicking his technique, I cast my line into the water. It didn’t go far, but it went in. Good enough.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of laughter, teasing, and quiet moments in the sun. We talked about everything we’d missed in the last week, silly things, deep things, things that mattered, and things that didn’t.
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