“To what?” He gave me another quick glance while wiping his arm along his forehead.
“To meet people like Jeremiah.” I lifted a shoulder, casually hinting at my interest in Jeremiah whom I hadn’t met yet.
“Like him? Or him?”
“Either.”
“I don’t think he attends church.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Oh, it mattered a lot, but I hated the way Fisher made me feel like a prim and proper church girl.
“He swears,” Fisher said.
“So?”
“So, I notice you cringe when I say fuck, shit, damn, crap, even dick. And dick’s not a swear word, right? It’s more of a body part or synonym for asshole, which you don’t like either.”
“What’s your point?”
“My point is, would you really enjoy being around Jeremiah if he used that language in all of his sentences?”
“It’s not me saying it, so whatever.”
“Really?” He stopped his polishing again to inspect me, to read me. “What if he wants to do more than hang out with you? Is that something you’re down for?”
“I don’t think the things I’m down for are any of your business.”
“Maybe you should stick to your new church friends. I’d feel better about it and so would Rory.”
“Well, I’m—”
“Yeah, yeah … you’re an adult. I’ve heard you mention it a time or two.”
“Well, it’s true. So that means I don’t need your permission or Rory’s permission to hang out with whomever I want to hang out with.”
“How rebellious of you. Are you throwing your V-card to the wind and having a hot girl summer?”
“What makes you so sure I have my V-card?” I knew I was marching, with zero regard for self-preservation, straight into a snake pit.
He stood tall and draped the towel over his shoulder while scratching his jaw with his other hand, lips corkscrewed. “Just a wild guess.”
“Because I went to a Christian school?”
“No.” He chuckled. “That might actually make a better case for you not having your V-card. Repression and all that shit.”
“Then what?”
“Just little things like the way you’re so quick to get defensive, like now. Or the way you fidget when I make you uncomfortable with a topic like this. But really, it was the way you looked at me the day we met. Like you hadn’t seen a guy without his shirt on. The way you’re looking at me right now.”
My gaze snapped from his chest to his face and embarrassment flamed up my neck to my cheeks. “You’re a little too full of yourself. I’ve seen plenty of shirtless men.”
“But have you seen any naked men?”
Dang it!
I walked right into that. Why did I stop and engage in conversation with him? I should have kept walking toward the basement. “I mean …”
He grinned like he’d caught me. And my lack of ability to answer right away only added to his proof. “You wouldn’t have had to technically see the guy’s entire naked body to have sex with him, but I’d hope you would have insisted on it. The visual is half the fun.”
The sun was no match for the heat in my face and really, everywhere along my body. Nobody had ever talked to me like Fisher talked to me. On one hand, he liked to treat me like a child, on the other hand, he spoke to me in a way that felt crude and borderline inappropriate.
But inappropriate for whom? His employee? Yes. The daughter of his tenant? Probably. An eighteen-year-old girl … woman? Well, the woman in me wanted to say no, but the girl who did in fact still have her V-card cringed everywhere. That girl felt like a ten-year-old who just had a perv expose himself to her on the playground.
“I’ve seen a naked man.”
Man. Yes, as in man oh man … why couldn’t I shut my stupid mouth and go bury my head beneath a pillow for the rest of the day? Or the rest of my life?
“Oh yeah?” He squinted against the sun. “That’s good to know. It takes the pressure off me. I’m a clothing optional kind of guy. Rory has seen more than she bargained for. Of course, she was cool about it. Like mother like daughter, huh?”
Was I cool with seeing the naked fisherman? No. Could he not see my face? I was the complete opposite of cool. No ‘like mother like daughter.’ My mom had seen a naked man before. Maybe more than one. I never asked my parents about their relationships before they met each other. I never got the chance.
“I’m going to change my clothes and maybe head into the mountains. I’ve never been.”
“Wait. What? You grew up in Nebraska and you’ve never been to the mountains?” he asked with the right amount of shock because it was shocking. A crime, really.
“No. Not the Rockies.”
“That’s insane. And you thinking your first trip into the mountains should be by yourself is just as insane. Let me change my clothes. I’ll take you.”