The Naked Fisherman (Fisherman 1)

“What are you doing?” I whispered.

His gaze followed the trail of his hand along my skin for another breath or two before he gave me those intense eyes of his. “I’m apologizing.”

From earlier that week …

The car dealership. The park. His extreme extra.

Sorry meant nothing if that kind of touch was his way of apologizing. My soul felt it.

“Fisher?” I whispered.

He seemed mesmerized with my lips—his thumb ghosting along them, eyes drifting from mine to his thumb.

“Are you going to kiss me?”

The hint of a grin moved his mouth. “I was thinking about it.”

My hand curled around his wrist, pulling his hand from my mouth as I leaned in a few inches and grinned while my lips brushed along his. “You think too much.”

We kissed.

We let our hands explore each other’s bodies.

We made out … the first time I actually made out with a guy.

No sex.

No orgasms.

Just lots of kissing and touching.

Eventually, our hands stilled, our bodies entwined, and our lips eased apart as we fell asleep.

In the morning, I woke first, lifting my head from his chest. One of his hands rested on top of mine pressed to his chest next to my head. His other hand … it was resting on my butt … on the inside of my panties. I wasn’t sure when it laid claim to that spot, but I kinda liked it.

That was a lie.

I kinda loved it.

If I was going to Hell, I wanted to go there with Fisher’s hands all over me, his lips on mine, and his dirty words in my ear.

“Good morning, Ed.” Rory’s voice sent me into major panic mode as she greeted the neighbor on her way around to the basement. To us!

“Oh my gosh!” I whisper yelled. “Get up!” I tugged on Fisher’s arm.

He squinted, not entirely awake.

“Rory’s coming! GET UP!” Had I whispered any louder, she would have heard me.

Fisher stumbled getting up. I pushed him with all my strength toward the door.

“Go! Hurry!”

“Christ, woman … I’m going already.” He walked like a drunk man with his shirt unbuttoned and hanging off one shoulder and his hair matted in back.

As soon as he made it to the stairs, I rushed back to the porch.

“Look who’s up early,” Rory said in a cheery voice as I grabbed the blanket and kicked Fisher’s sneakers under the sofa.

“Yeah, I uh … slept out here last night. When I discovered the lights, I couldn’t resist.”

She opened the door to the porch instead of going in through the main door. “Oh, yeah. I should have told you. I guess I figured you’d see them and look for the switch.”

I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders. “So … did you have fun?” I sat back down on the sofa while she took a seat in the rocker.

“We had a great time. When you’re older, we’ll have to go to all the clubs. There are some really great ones around here. If …” Her nose wrinkled. She sometimes forgot that I spent the previous three years with my grandparents in a very conservative home and school. “If you’re comfortable with it or you want to.” Her pained expression softened into the mom I once knew, the face of unconditional love.

The face of absolute comfort. She was my safe place. I was never a daddy’s girl, despite my interest in his job and his hobby. I idolized my mom, and I didn’t think she ever really knew.

“I want you to be whoever you need to be to feel comfortable in your own skin. I want you to never feel the need to fit in or follow others if it’s not who you are. Okay?”

Right there. That was my mom.

Pressing my lips together, I nodded slowly. And I almost, almost told her that my path had crossed with Fisher’s path.

Collided.

Crashed.

And I wasn’t sure I’d ever find my own way again because I loved him. More than that … despite my battered and prodded ego … I liked who I was with him, even if it made no sense. Even if I’d never tell him that.

Did love have to make sense?

“So the club was fun?”

She nodded. “Yes. One of our favorites was playing.”

“And Tiffany and Fisher … did they hit it off?”

“Yeah, I think so. They have a lot in common. They chatted it up during the breaks and at the bar we went to after the jazz club. She’s definitely interested in him, but I haven’t had the chance to talk to him yet. I’d like to see him find someone. I know he has the eternal heart of a bachelor, but Fisher deserves more.”

I wanted to be that more.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I didn’t see Fisher the rest of Saturday because Rory took me shopping, then we had lunch. We ended the day at her salon where she gave me a haircut, even though it was her day off, and we both got manicures and pedicures.