Max bounded alongside him as Tim strode to the river's edge. His property ended mere feet from the water, the last stretch a right-of-way for the river. The town at one point planned a walking path, but it never materialized.
Tim stopped when he saw Brad drinking a beer. Anger exploded out of him. “What are you doing?"
Brad eyed him. “Fishing, like we talked about."
Tim swallowed and breathed to get control. “What's with the beer?"
“It's hot out here."
Tim closed his eyes for a moment. He opened them and looked at Max. “Hey buddy. Could you get my fishing pole out of the garage?"
“Sure."
Max left whistling.
“What's up your butt?" Brad asked him.
Tim pointed to the beer. “You're drinking."
“We always drink when we fish."
Tim put a finger against his temple. “Think. Max is a littl
