The Naked Fisherman (Fisherman 1)

“Twenty-eight, like Bossman.”

I wouldn’t have guessed that. Maybe twenty-three or twenty-four.

“I’ll make sure the guys don’t razz you too much. Except Jeremiah. He’s twenty-one, really cute, and single,” she said.

“Well, I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying. My plans are just for the summer at this point.”

With a conspiratorial grin, she winked. “Nothing wrong with hooking up just for the summer.”

I wasn’t hooking up. That would have required getting married, and I wasn’t rushing into marriage just to have sex.

“Ready to head out to the first job site?” Fisher slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“The one they’re roofing today?” Hailey asked.

“Yeah, that’s one stop.” Fisher turned his hat the right way again while nodding at me to head toward the door.

“Jeremiah is there. Make sure you introduce him to Reese. I said he’d be a good summer hookup.”

“Reese isn’t hooking up with Jeremiah this summer.”

“Why?” Hailey asked as if I wasn’t standing in the middle of their conversation about me and my sex life.

“Because Rory left me in charge of her.” He disappeared out the door, and I shot out after him.

“Hey, you’re not in charge of me. Maybe you’re my boss when I’m working, but Rory didn’t leave you in charge of me. I’m an adult.”

“You’re eighteen.” He hopped into the truck.

“Yeah …” I fastened my seat belt. “Eighteen is a legal adult.”

“Legal yes. But not in the practical sense.”

I scowled at him, but he ignored me. When we got to the first site, I started to climb out of the truck.

“Stay put.” He opened his door.

“Why?”

“Because it’s a work site, and you don’t have a hard hat yet.”

I peered out the window at the crew roofing the house. “They’re not wearing hard hats.”

“They’re on the roof. Nothing’s going to fall onto them.” He started to shut the door.

“Where’s your hat?”

“I’m hardheaded. I’ll be fine.” The door shut before I had a chance for a rebuttal.

For three job inspections in a row, I waited in the truck and basically got paid to work on my crossword puzzles. Then we pulled into a supply and apparel store parking lot.

“Let’s get you some boots and a hard hat.” He jumped out of the truck and strode a good twenty feet before he turned around. After holding out his hands, he let them flop to his sides, returning to the truck and opening my door. “Did you already forget how to operate the little lever called the door handle?”

“No. I just wasn’t sure if I was allowed to exit the truck yet.” I hopped out of the truck, and he shut and locked the door.

“I said we’re getting you boots and a hard hat.”

“Yes, Boss.”

He glanced over at me, one eyebrow peaked. “Boss, huh?”

“That’s what Hailey calls you. Bossman.”

“I’m not sure she means it with any sort of respect.”

“I’m not sure I’m saying it with any respect either.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re a spitfire, like your mom.” Opening the door to the store, he waited for me to go inside.

I nodded for him to go first. “It’s not a date.”

“You’re right. My mistake.” He stepped inside and let go of the door.

It quickly started to close, and I grabbed the handle. My shoulder jerked in the direction of the door. It was a lot heavier than I anticipated. After I lugged it open and squeezed inside the store, I jogged to catch up to Fisher who was already halfway toward the back of the store.

“What’s your shoe size?” he asked.

“Nine.”

“Really?” He glanced back at me. “Big feet.”

My nose wrinkled. “Nine isn’t that big.”

“For a woman it is.”

“Pfft …” I shook my head.

“Sit.” He nodded toward a bench.

“I’m not a dog.” I held my own to prove … well … that I wasn’t a dog.

“You’re right. A dog would be better behaved.”

“Jerk.” I plopped onto the bench while Fisher tracked down an employee.

A few minutes later, he returned with three boxes. “Take off your shoes.”

I slipped out of my tennis shoes.

“Reese …” He stared at my feet. “Where are your socks?”

“My shoes have wool inserts. They don’t require socks.”

He grumbled. That meant he was mad at me.

“Well, they don’t.” I shrugged.

Dropping the three boxes onto the bench next to me, he stomped his work boots in the direction of a rack of socks. After quickly picking a pair, he ripped the tag off them and handed them to me. “Put these socks on.” His no-nonsense attitude prevented me from saying or doing anything but exactly what he asked me to do.

“Here.” He retrieved a boot from the first box and loosened the laces before handing it to me.

I shoved my foot into it, but before I could tie it, Fisher hunched in front of me and tied the laces with fast and furious hands. “Walk.”

Standing on command like a good dog, I walked, really hobbled because I only had on one boot. Stopping at a floor mirror, I inspected it.