The Naked Fisherman (Fisherman 1) - Page 45

“You should hydrate. You’re pretty sweaty.” I stood beside him and held out the glass.

Fisher lifted onto his knees and sat back on his heels, sweat and dirt covering his naked chest and back. “Thank you.” He pulled off his work gloves and took the glass from me. In one breath, he guzzled the whole thing and sighed while handing it back to me.

“I … uh … I forgive you. I just wasn’t ready to say it last night when you messaged me.”

He wiped his arm over his forehead. “I figured.”

“My friend called me last night. She’s in Denver for the weekend with her boyfriend. Her sister’s getting married in Colorado Springs next weekend. Anyway … she wanted to get together, so I suggested Arnie’s concert. Do you think he can get us two extra seats?”

“I didn’t figure you’d want to go.”

“I didn’t. But I want to see my friend, and she’s really excited about it, so …”

Squinting against the sun, he nodded. “I’m sure Arnie can make it happen.”

“Are you taking … a date?”

Fisher glanced away and shook his head while offering a little chuckle. “You mean, am I taking Angie?”

I nodded, tapping my fingernails on the glass and doing my weird rolling back and forth on my heels thing.

“Arnie invited her. It’s virtually impossible for me to not take her at this point.”

I lifted my shoulders. “It’s fine. I was just asking. Should I uh … drive? Or are we all going together?”

“She messaged me last night. She’ll pick us up at six. I said I needed to verify that you were going, but now that you are … I’ll let her know.”

“You’re not driving?”

He shook his head. “I have a work truck and a motorcycle. You’ve seen all the shit in my truck, and I don’t think all of us can fit on my motorcycle.”

“Yeah. Of course. Well …” I took a few steps backward. “I’ll be ready at six.”

As soon as I stepped into the house, I rifled through my clothes and found nothing … nothing to wear on a date. Or double date … triple date? I didn’t know. But I knew Christina would be dressed in something trendy and on point. I hadn’t met Angie, but I had to anticipate someone from California bringing her own brand of style.

“You suck,” I berated myself … my wardrobe. In the next beat, I was out the door with my purse and car keys.

Buzzing past Fisher, I hopped into the Outback and sped down the street in mad search of something to wear. Just under two hours later, I returned with a new outfit, shoes, and a smaller handbag.

With under an hour to get ready, I shaved everything … and I hadn’t shaved everything ever. Then I slathered lotion on all my shaved areas, dried my hair, curled it, and applied makeup the way my mom used to apply makeup.

Smoky eyes.

A bit of pink high on my cheekbones.

And red lips.

I made a final inspection in the mirror as I stuffed the essentials into my new clutch. My dad had to be turning over in his grave. And God? I could only imagine.

White shorts that barely … just barely covered my backside making my legs look even longer. A floral, sleeveless spaghetti strap top. And nineties inspired platform shoes with straps around my ankles.

After a quick glance at my watch, I made my way up front. There was no car in the driveway aside from Fisher’s truck, so I stood under his covered porch and waited, clutching my purse in both hands.

“She’s running a few minutes late. You can wait inside.”

I turned toward Fisher’s voice.

Well, dang …

He was freshly showered with dark jeans that looked fairly new, gray leather sneakers with thick white soles, and a faded gray tee that molded to his chest and shoulders. His biceps looked twice as big, and the veins in his arms did weird things to me. Veins weren’t supposed to be sexy.

“O-okay …” I gulped.

He eyed my legs for a long moment before meeting my gaze as I walked toward the door. “I have a feeling someone will get beat up or arrested tonight.”

“Why would you say that?” I stopped just inside his front door.

“Because you’re eighteen going on thirty.”

“Don’t talk like a parent, Fisher.”

He shut the door and leaned against it, crossing his sexy arms over his even sexier chest. “Fine. Every guy that sees you is going to get a hard-on. And I promised Rory I’d keep an eye on you.”

“I’m sure Angie doesn’t want you keeping an eye on me.”

He narrowed his eyes at my chest, ignoring my Angie comment. “For fuck’s sake … are you wearing a bra?”

I glanced down. “No. I can’t wear one with this top.”

“Then go change tops and put on a bra.”

“Again … too much parental talk. I don’t need you to dress me.”

Tags: Jewel E. Ann Fisherman Romance
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