The Lost Fisherman (Fisherman 2)

“Hey. Good timing.” Fisher opened the front door and grinned.

“No. Nothing about us is good timing.” Too bad he didn’t know just how much truth I packed into that statement.

“Uh oh … what happened?” He stepped aside.

“Rory saw me leaving and asked what I was doing. And the next thing I knew, she was inviting herself and Rose over for pizza and beer. Maybe Angie too. I’m not sure.” I frowned.

“And you’re upset why?” He shut the door and leaned against it, his good hand in his front pocket.

With a long gaze, I remained silent. Was he really going to make me say it?

“I mean, for me it sucks,” he started. “I’ve been thinking about second base all afternoon. But for you wanting to learn how to use the shelf pin jig, I don’t know how additional company will affect that. Are you worried that everyone else will want to learn how to use it as well, and you don’t want to share the experience with them?”

I’m afraid that Angie is the love of your life and you’re just too confused to see it. I’m afraid our time is limited and I’m only postponing the inevitable heartbreak.

“I’m reneging. If I die, you will not get ten seconds to fondle me.”

“That’s a little harsh. You’re acting like it’s my fault you did such a terrible job of sneaking out of the house. So now we’re down to only two options.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “What two options?”

“Either you don’t die, or I fondle you now.”

Stupid Fisher. There he went again, making me laugh. Indulging me in ridiculous behavior and even more ridiculous conversation. Did he talk about fondling dead bodies with Angie? I couldn’t see that. She seemed a little too sophisticated for that. I thought ninety-nine percent of the world’s adult population was likely too sophisticated to talk about fondling dead bodies. And the other one percent was probably in prison or on a Most Wanted list.

“What if I don’t die and you fondle me now? Why does it have to be a choice?”

Fisher grinned. “See, that’s why we work. Two great minds.” Pushing off the door, he took three steps, slid his good hand behind my neck, and kissed me.

I giggled into his kiss. The kiss lasted longer than I expected, his casted hand idle at his side and his good hand on my neck. Fisher was killing it at first base. It was everything, but not nearly enough. Not when I knew what it felt like to have Fisher sliding into home plate but falling a few inches short.

My hands rested on his T-shirt clad chest for several seconds before heading south.

“Oh …” He pulled back, a single brow lifted as he glanced down at my fingers making a move on the button to his jeans. “Second base is everything above the waist.”

Above the waist. Was he kidding? That left chest and abs for me. Not that Fisher didn’t have a great chest and abs, but men had nothing forbidden above their waist. Second base was clearly defined by a man.

Or … and this thought was the most disturbing … Fisher Mann was never going to have sex with me.

Not. Ever.

We were destined to be professional flirters who dabbled in foreplay, an occasional dry hump. The players who never reached home plate.

“I don’t trust Rory and Rose. They could show up any minute. Let’s get to work on that shelving unit and showing me how to use that jiggy thing.” I brushed past him and around the corner to the garage door.

“Whoa … whoa … whoa …” He followed me. “Are you mad? Did you think that back there was me rejecting you?”

My feet made fast work taking me down the stairs. I so badly wanted to turn around, ball my hands, and tell him how I’d secretly felt rejected by him for more than five years! But that day, I saw Angie in a wedding gown that she picked out to marry the boy she fell in love with before she could ever imagine her life as a biologist, her life as a woman, her life as an orphan. My problems seemed petty at best. I needed to settle into the fact that Fisher would not be all mine for a while, maybe ever. That meant I had to decide what my heart could handle. Did it have the strength and patience to go the distance for the slim chance that it would be me? That I would be the person he loved with or without the memories of us or of Angie.

“I’m only going to feel rejected if you don’t show me jiggy action.”

“I’m not buying it. Here. I was stupid. I wanted to wait until my cast came off before I suggested more, but I’m clearly the world’s biggest idiot.”