Guy Hater (Fisher Brothers 2)

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m Claudia, and I’ll be going over your paperwork today. Right this way.”

I led him into my office, hoping like hell we’d be able to make his dreams come true.

• • •

“Can we go to Sam’s tonight?” I asked with a little too much enthusiasm when we got home that evening, and watched as Britney shot me a knowing glance.

“I don’t know, Claudia, the place is a madhouse on Friday nights.” She tried to sound serious, but she couldn’t stop giggling. “Hell yes, we can go. Of course.”

“Just for the record, I know I’m completely transparent, okay?” I said before she could say another word.

She knew damn well that I wanted to go there so I could see Frank. I had a crush, but I couldn’t be blamed for it. He was delicious and mysterious, and I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Stupid, stupid analogy, but I’d never fully understood it until now.

“I didn’t say a word.” She threw her hands in the air. When she walked toward her bedroom, I swore I heard her mumble “FishWish” under her breath as I shook my head.

/> “This is all your fault, by the way,” I called out and waited for her to shout back.

Instead, she peered around her doorframe. “How’s that?”

“You’re the one who made me go there in the first place. I was perfectly fine before you forced me to see those brothers in person.” I faked a glare and she scoffed.

“First of all,” she said, putting one finger in the air, “it’s not my fault that you and Frank Fisher have some weird sort of connection going on. And second,” she added another finger, “this is the most exciting thing that’s happened since we moved in together.”

­­I laughed in agreement, but focused on the part where she mentioned that Frank and I had a connection. Was that what it had been?

“You really think we had a connection?”

“Have. Not had. And we’ll see when we go tonight if it was a one-time thing,” she said before disappearing again.

Yes, I had been drawn to Frank, but he was extremely attractive. And attraction didn’t necessarily equal a connection. Chemistry was one thing, but a real connection was something else entirely. I had no idea what we had between us, but I was more than willing to attempt to find out.

Britney had been right about Friday nights at Sam’s. It was packed, and I worried for a second that we might not be able to get in. Thankfully, there was no issue with security at the door as we were ushered straight through.

“Good God. We’ll never get a drink,” I practically yelled into Britney’s ear so she could hear me over the noise of the crowd. I immediately scanned behind the bar, looking for my favorite Fisher brother. When I realized he wasn’t there, my heart sank an inch or two.

“Come on.” Britney waved before reaching for my hand and pulling me toward the other end of the bar. As we weaved through the throng, a couple of guys tried to stop us, but we kept moving.

I hated when guys manhandled me in public places. Did I give you permission to grab my arm, pinch my ass, or accidentally graze my boob as you reached for something you didn’t need in front of me? I never understood why men behaved this way, but it always pissed me off. I didn’t get angry often, but my Colombian temper showed up the second any of that kind of stuff happened. Britney always said that my face turned an unnatural color whenever I was angry, so she knew when to keep her distance.

Once we were at the other end of the bar, a door swung open and my Fisher god stepped through it. Frank was frowning, like he’d been working on a difficult problem behind those doors that no one else was aware of.

Breathless, I watched as he scanned the length of the bar before his gaze fell on me. It didn’t take long for him to find me, but once he did, all seemed right in the world.

I smiled, felt my mouth curving upward without my control, and the tension in his face melted away and a smile appeared. My heart rose back into its proper place, demanding kudos for being the one responsible for that smile.

“Claudia,” he said as he stepped around the bar and made his way to us.

“Hi, Frank. It’s a madhouse in here.”

I sucked in a breath as his arms slipped around my waist and he pulled me against him in a tight hug. I had no idea if Frank Fisher was a hugger, but I was currently on the receiving end of a really good hug and wasn’t about to complain.

Thrilled, I squeezed his muscles, my fingertips digging into his biceps as I pulled him close, refusing to let go. His nose dipped toward my neck, and when I felt him inhale, goose bumps prickled my skin.

“You smell good,” he whispered into my ear, and for a second, his arms were the only things holding me upright.

“Thank you.”

He pulled away slowly, like he didn’t want to break the connection any more than I did. “Hi, Britney.” He gave her a quick friendly hug, and her eyes met mine as it happened.