The Naked Fisherman (Fisherman 1)

“Yes and no.” We stopped and waited for my luggage at the carousel. “And it’s my landlord’s house. Not mine. I just rent the basement. It has its own entrance at the back. He’s the nicest guy. And adorable. We’ve become good friends. I’ve told him all about you. And he’s also willing to give you a temporary job this summer while you figure out what you want to do.”

“What kind of job?” I watched for my suitcase, sparing a quick side-glance for my mom.

“He owns a construction company. I’m not sure what you’d be doing, but I’m sure you couldn’t ask for a better boss.”

“Construction? Building houses? I’m not that great with a hammer.” With a nervous laugh, I considered the bigger picture. My hammer abilities were the least of my concerns. My mom was leaving me with an adorable man. Adorable as in old and quirky?

She laughed. “I’m sure there’s office stuff you can do.”

I nodded several times, trying hard to formulate an image of adorable in my head. Kittens were adorable. “Okay. Yes, I can do office work. Thanks for asking him.” Mr. Adorable.

She glanced over at me and smiled. “Of course. I want to do everything I can for you. Lots of lost time to make up for.”

Chapter Three

It took us forty-five minutes to get to her place. I’d never been to Colorado. Never seen the Rockies. I couldn’t stop gawking at them in the distance. How had we lived in Nebraska for nearly fifteen years and never headed west? We’d made a million trips straight south to Texas and a few trips out east to visit my mom’s parents. But never west.

“Home sweet home. I know it’s not as nice as your grandparents’ home in Houston, but I want you to feel like it’s yours. We can decorate your room. Paint. Whatever you want. Fisher said as long as we don’t tear down walls, the sky’s the limit.”

“Fisher?” I asked while climbing out of her Subaru Outback.

“Fisher Mann. My landlord.”

“Interesting name.” I chuckled while my mom retrieved my suitcase from the back of her car.

“It is.” She grinned, nodding toward a cobblestone path that wound around to the side of the sprawling ranch home with an unobstructed view of the mountains.

“There’s a door to the house through the screened-in porch, but I usually go in through here because there’s a locker area to put coats, shoes, purses, etcetera.”

She unlocked the door, and I followed her into the basement. It was nice—way nicer than I expected, not basement feeling at all. A wall of west-facing windows gave it depth, not that it needed any illusion. The vast family room held a mammoth sectional, big screen TV, and a pool table.

“You’ve bought a lot of stuff.”

“Pfft …” She shook her head. “No. The family room came furnished. I purchased beds for the two bedrooms and bedding. Towels. Kitchen stuff. And by me, I mean my parents loaned me the money.”

“I see.” My other grandparents. I saw them three times while my mom was incarcerated. My father wasn’t exactly accommodating.

“Let’s see if Fisher is upstairs. I want you to meet him; then we can grab food and spend the rest of the evening catching up.”

Catching up … I found that odd. The catching up would be very one-sided. There was no way she had that much to catch me up on in regard to her life.

I followed her up the split staircase. She knocked on the door and waited a full two seconds before unlocking it and opening it. It was odd that there weren’t locks on both sides like connected hotel rooms. As I followed her into a spacious kitchen with high ceilings, I glanced back and noticed there was a lock on his side. He just hadn’t locked it.

“Fisher?” she called and waited a few seconds. “I’ll check the garage. Sometimes he’s working on a project or spit-shining his motorcycle.”

I nodded, feeling nerves tighten in my stomach. Why? I wasn’t sure, but two seconds later I quickly figured it out.

“Hey.”

I turned toward the deep, male voice.

“Oh my gosh!” I made another quick turn, completing a full three-sixty in total. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? Did you break in? Or are you Rory’s daughter?”

I cleared my throat. “That … um … yeah … Rory’s daughter.”

“Ah, Reese Capshaw. It’s nice to finally meet you. Rory talks about you nonstop.”

I nodded a half dozen times, refusing to turn back toward him and his nearly naked body. My initial glance caught lots of chest and water dripping down said chest and a loosely tied navy-blue towel hanging low on his waist. Oh … yeah … his hair was messy, wet, and light brown or maybe dark blond.

“Where’s your mom?” He brushed past me. Like … physically brushed past me. His wet arm bumped mine. And he didn’t say “excuse me.” Instead, he turned a few degrees just before reaching for the garage door handle. He eyed me from head to toe, a smirk reshaping his mouth into something I didn’t trust. “You look just like your mom. Lucky girl.”