The Naked Fisherman (Fisherman 1)

“Ugh! Jerk!” I hammered my fists into his chest.

He grabbed my wrists and held me to him, held my hands to his chest. “I’m not saying a word to her.”

I stared at his chest as my fists relaxed, as my palms pressed to his firm muscles and tan skin. Another new and intimate feeling. “I … I don’t think …” My gaze inched its way up to meet his. “I don’t want her to know about …”

Rolling his lips together, he nodded several times. “Yeah. I don’t either. She wouldn’t be very happy with me.”

Grunting a laugh, I glanced to the side, “Then what’s the point of this?”

“I don’t know.” His honesty bled through his words. It was a brief moment when I didn’t feel that Fisher was a decade older, a decade more mature, a decade more experienced.

Maybe connecting with someone didn’t have boundaries or timelines. I liked the idea of him feeling as drawn to me as I felt to him. It made me feel like we were equals in this, whatever this was.

“So we just …” I wasn’t sure if the thoughts in my mind reflected my true emotions or if I needed to say them to ease his burden. “We just stop when she gets home. Like it never happened.”

Twisting his lips, he studied me for a few moments before returning a single slow nod. “Like it never happened.”

Chapter Thirteen

Our “It Never Happened” agreement put a damper on the rest of the evening. We walked. He kissed me goodnight, but it wasn’t like the kiss in the kitchen. And that was it.

Friday morning I got a text from Fisher as I was buttering a piece of toast, freshly showered with wet hair, but dressed sans shoes and socks.

Fisher: I’m leaving early for a meeting. You can work in the office if Hailey has stuff for you or you can have the day off.

Immediate let down.

I dropped the butter knife and sprinted to the front of the house without any shoes on just as Fisher started his truck. “Stop!” I smacked my hand on his window.

He jerked his head to the side and started to roll down his window, but I opened his door instead.

“Didn’t you get my text?” He squinted.

“Yeah, but didn’t you get the memo that Rory’s coming home soon?” I stepped up, forcing him to wrap his arm around my waist to keep me from falling out of the truck as I planted my face an inch from his.

He grinned. “Your hair is still wet.”

“So?” I whispered, my gaze sliding along his face from his eyes to his full lips so close to mine. “Are you going to kiss me?”

Wetting those full lips, he lifted his right shoulder into a half shrug. “I was thinking about it.”

My foolish grin showed all my teeth. “Don’t think.”

Fisher lifted his other hand and cupped my face, ghosting his thumb along my cheek. “I never do when I’m with you.”

A soft breeze blew my wet hair into my face and his, but it didn’t stop him from kissing me.

“Now, if you don’t get out of my truck,” he said releasing my lips, “I’m going to want more.”

I giggled, kissing along his cheek as his hand moved from my waist to my butt.

“Like that book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, have you read it?”

I nodded, relishing the feel of his scruffy face against my lips. “Fisher,” I whispered at his ear, feeling brave enough to tease his earlobe like he had teased mine with his teeth, “are you saying you want my cookie?”

He laughed, threading fingers through my wet hair and bringing my lips back to his. “Your cookie.”

Kiss.

“Your muffins.”

Kiss.

I giggled against his mouth.

“I’m going to want the whole fucking bakery.”

Kiss.

I wanted his crude and dirty mouth. The kisses … I wanted all of his kisses. His laughter. And the way he looked at me like I was the bane of his existence in the most beautiful way.

“Well…” I stepped down, rubbing my lips together to relish the taste of toothpaste, coffee, and the naked fisherman “…you have work. And the bakery is closed.”

“Killjoy.” He adjusted himself. Again, it made my grin double. “Are you going to work?”

Twisting my lips, I slipped my hands into my pockets. “I figured I would. I haven’t called Hailey yet.”

“Take the day off.”

I frowned. “And do what?”

“Take a bath in my tub.”

I giggled. “I just showered.”

“Roll around in my bed naked.”

Another giggle.

Our banter felt a little wrong—the way we felt a little wrong. And that wrong felt perfectly right in that moment. I knew the upside down version of my world wouldn’t last long, so I didn’t try to fix it. I just let it be whatever it was meant to be.

A little wrong. A little right.

Just … us.

“Bye.” I took one step back, then another.