The Naked Fisherman (Fisherman 1)

“I’m not lost.”

“Reese, you know what I mean.”

“I actually like working for Fisher.”

“Well, sure. But there’s not a lot of room for advancement unless you’re going to actually learn to build stuff.”

“He’s going to teach me some things.”

“Oh, he is? Like … he’s going to teach you things about construction?”

“I think so. I asked him if he would.”

There was a pause before she replied with a “Huh … okay. He’s a talented guy. I’m sure he’s the best one to teach you things.”

I couldn’t have agreed more.

“Hope you’re being smart around his crew. He’s employed a lot of single guys who I’m sure will find you quite appealing, but they need to remember you’re eighteen.”

“Which means I’m an adult.”

She sighs. “Yes, but guys with five to ten years on you are not in your best interest right now unless you meet them at church. Alcohol. Sex. Drugs. I just don’t want you getting in over your head before you reach twenty. I’d love for you to find a group of friends close to your age.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I know. I’m not. I’m sure Fisher is keeping a close eye on you whether you like it or not.”

“Yes, he’s … all over me.” I bit my lips together to hide my grin.

“I knew it. I had a feeling he’d be a big brother to you.”

That comparison nauseated me a bit.

“Anyhoo, I’ll let you go. Let’s talk again this weekend when we have more time. Maybe video chat so I can see your beautiful face.”

“Sounds good.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

“Bye.” I slid my phone onto the counter and stared at the staircase leading to him.

I wasn’t sure if my mom’s call was bad timing on her part or good timing on God’s part. And what happened next? Was I supposed to go upstairs to continue what we started? Ending where? In his bed, sans my virginity?

Why did he have to be twenty-eight and my mom’s friend/landlord? Why did he have to be twenty-eight with way more life and sexual experience than me?

I grabbed a pre-made salad from the fridge and ate it with a handful of wheat crackers. Then I changed into jogging shorts, tennis shoes, and a tank top. I assumed Fisher was eating dinner or taking a shower, but as I trekked around to the front of the house, I was proven wrong.

Shorts. No shirt (of course). Bare feet.

He used a hose and spray nozzle to water some plants and flowers by his front door. Shirtless Fisher was not a good idea for me. My body still hadn’t recovered from his hands on my legs, his thumbs dangerously close to the top of my inner thighs.

“Going for a jog?” he asked.

“Walk.” I didn’t stop. Stopping was a bad idea.

“Want company?”

Bad idea.

“Okay.” I turned with a little too much bounce to my step, too much enthusiasm in my voice, and way too big of a grin on my face.

Rory was coming home in one week. And I didn’t know what that would mean for Fisher and me. I wasn’t in his head. I could guess that Rory wouldn’t like the idea of me having a physical relationship with a man ten years older than me. And if I was being honest with myself, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it either.

Him … I knew how I felt about him, but I couldn’t turn off all common sense, ignore the logistics of our situation. What I wanted and what made sense were not the same things.

“Let me put on some shoes.” He shut off the hose and disappeared into the house via the front door.

When he returned with only shoes, still no shirt, I had a mild panic attack. When he grabbed my hand and grinned, it escalated to a moderate panic attack.

“So Rory’s coming home in a week,” he said as we strolled down the street, my fingers laced with his.

Every new touch brought a new sensation. Holding hands wasn’t kissing, yet it felt equally as intimate. I’d held his hand before, during the storm prayer, but this was different. That was an awkward clasp; this was more.

“Were you eavesdropping?”

He chuckled. “No. She called me after she called you.”

“Oh. Well … what did you say?”

“I said you’d be excited to see her.” He glanced down at me for a second.

“No.” I kept my gaze in front of us. “What did you say about us?”

“I told her you have a fantastic mouth and a silky tongue that tastes like heaven, legs that bring me to my knees, and a truckload of attitude.”

“Oh my gosh …” I stopped and turned toward him, yanking my hand away from his.

He narrowed his eyes. “What? I didn’t tell her about the bathtub incident or that you stole beer from me.”

“Fisher!”

His brow relaxed as that stupid smirk appeared. “Stop being so gullible.”