The Naked Fisherman by Jewel E. Ann

Chapter Twenty-One

I didn’t seeFisher again until Friday afternoon. He was buried in work, so Rory took me to the office in the morning and Hailey dropped me off after work.

Fisher texted me later that day.

I’ll give you a ride home. See you in twenty.

“Fisher’s picking me up,” I said to Hailey as I sat at Fisher’s desk, going through receipts submitted by subcontractors.

“Then, I am out of here. Tell Bossman I had to run to the post office before it closed.”

Eyeing her, I grinned. “You don’t have to run to the post office, do you?”

She winked. “I have a date. And I’d love a pedicure.”

“Have fun.”

“Oh, I will. Bye.” She floated out the door with a big grin.

Hailey deserved to grin. She had a date. Fisher had a date. Rory didn’t have a date, but she had a friend to hang out with on a Friday night. I had my tumultuous thoughts and crossword puzzles to build.

Just as I finished paper-clipping the last of the receipts, Fisher came through the door. His beard was a little scruffier than usual. His jeans a little dirtier. And he wore a baseball cap that looked pretty used and soiled as well.

“Hey,” he said, flipping through the pile of notes for him from Hailey on the corner of his desk.

“Hey.” I piled everything neatly in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet then stood and hiked my bag onto my shoulder. “I was surprised you messaged me. Hailey could have given me a ride home.”

“I had to knock off early anyway. Rory wants to leave by six.”

Eyes wide, I bit my tongue and nodded several times.

“What are you doing tonight?” He filled a coffee mug with water from the cooler.

Missing you. Soothing my aching heart. Hating Rory for inviting you.

“I’m not sure yet. I’m sure I’ll find something age appropriate to do.”

Fisher finished gulping the water and set the mug on his desk. “I remember being your age and feeling like I wasn’t old enough to do anything fun.”

“I have plenty of fun things to do.” I walked to the door.

“I’m going for Rory. It would seem very odd to her if I didn’t go. Before you moved here, I went out to clubs with them a lot.”

“Well, you’re going. I don’t need to hear your reasoning.” I sulked to his truck and climbed into the passenger’s seat.

On the way home, I didn’t say anything. What could I say? Fisher didn’t speak either, but he took every chance to give me a quick glance like I was going to give away something in my demeanor or meet his gaze and talk. I had nothing to say about his big date night.

“Whose car is that?” I asked when we pulled into the driveway. But I quickly figured it out.

“Rose’s,” Fisher said.

On his porch, sat three women. Rory and who I assumed was Rose and Fisher’s date. They were all in dresses. All laughing. And all sipping wine like non-teenaged adults.

“Well, I hope there’s a DD tonight.” I pulled hard on the door handle and hopped out of the truck before he put it in Park, slamming it shut with a little extra attitude.

“Sweetie, come meet my friends,” Rory called.

I didn’t want to meet her friends. Well, I didn’t mind meeting Rose, but the interior designer could have sucked my proverbial cock. As soon as those words floated through my mind, I made the decision that I would spend the night in prayer and scripture because I didn’t want to be the person thinking someone could suck my proverbial cock. Yet … that was my situation, and I hated it.

“Hi.” I plastered on a fake smile.

“Reese, this is Rose and Rose’s friend, Tiffany.”

“So nice to see you again,” Rose said. “We actually met when you were much younger. Your mom had you at the salon in Nebraska one day when I came in for my appointment. But … you had a long summer’s worth of freckles on your face and pigtails. You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.”

Fisher stood just inches behind me; I could feel his nearness as Rose made sure we all were reminded of my age. Pigtails and freckles.

Fantastic.

“Thanks.” I forced my manners instead of acting like a disgruntled, pouty child who didn’t get to go out with the adults on a Friday night.

“Fisher, this is Tiffany. Tiff, this is Fisher.” Rose made the introduction, and I stepped aside so I wasn’t blocking them from their big introduction.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” Fisher nodded and smiled. “I didn’t expect everyone to be here so early. I need to grab a quick shower.”

“Take your time,” Rory said. “We have more wine.” She laughed and so did Rose and Tiffany.

Me? Not so much.

As soon as Fisher disappeared into the house, Tiffany’s jaw hit the ground. “Oh. My. God …” She fanned herself. “You weren’t kidding. He’s just … smokin’. I should have waxed everything, not just my legs.”

The ladies giggled.

Again, I didn’t share in their amusement. I definitely wasn’t going to laugh about Tiffany’s bold assumption that Fisher would see some unshaved part of her body.

Gah … I hope he doesn’t.

Feeling sufficiently nauseous, I excused myself. “I’m going to head downstairs and grab a shower too. Have a fun time.”

“I hope you have plans, sweetie. I feel bad leaving you if you don’t, but you’re just not old enough to get into the club.”

Rose and Tiffany gave me sad expressions.

My fake smile jumped to the rescue. “Yeah, I might meet up with some friends from church.”

“Okay. Be safe. I’ll see you tomorrow. If we’re going to be too late, I might just crash at Rose’s house. So I don’t want you to worry if you don’t see me until morning.”

Rory crashing with Rose.

Tiffany offering her unshaved parts to Fisher.

Just wonderful. I could not have been more excited for the real adults.

“Sounds good. Goodnight.”

I lugged my bag around the house to the basement. As soon as I removed my boots, I ran up the stairs and pressed my ear to the door. When I didn’t hear anything, I opened it slowly and peeked into the kitchen. When I didn’t see anyone, I slid around the corner and padded down the hallway to the closed master bedroom door. Pressing my ear to it, I listened for Fisher, but I heard nothing. Again, I slowly opened the door. The lights were on in his bathroom, so I stepped inside his bedroom and quietly closed the door behind me.

My bare feet made a silent trek to his bathroom, where I peeked around a third door.

“You don’t know how to knock, do you?” Fisher looked at me in his mirror as he stood in front of his sink, ruffling his wet hair, wearing nothing but a bath towel around his waist.

“They’re drunk. I hope you’re driving.” I peeled my gaze away from his reflection and moseyed into his walk-in closet.

“I’m sure I am.” He appeared in the doorway to his closet as I browsed around at his hanging clothes, mostly button-down shirts. He must have kept his work shirts in one of the drawers by my feet.

“Tiffany’s pretty excited. She thinks you’re ‘smokin’ and she regrets not waxing everything.”

“Is that so?”

I turned toward Fisher; his shoulder leaned against the door frame and his arms crossed over his bare chest. Of course, Tiffany was planning on all things with Fisher. How could any sane, single woman not think like that?

“Yes. That’s so.”

“Is that why you’re in my room? In my closet? To tell me about Tiffany’s grooming habits?”

I nibbled the inside of my cheek while running my hand down one of his long-sleeved button-downs. “Pretty much.”

“Well, thanks for the heads-up. I’ll keep that in mind tonight.”

I made my way to him, but he didn’t move to let me leave. He uncrossed his arms and took a step closer, so there were no more steps for either one of us to take.

My right hand lifted, feathering along his abs. They tightened even more under my touch.

The tips of my fingers met the top of his towel, pausing there as I lifted my gaze to his. His full lips parted, and the look in his eyes was pure sin.

“Don’t have sex with her tonight.” I couldn’t keep my eyes from averting to the side and then to my feet. I had no right to ask him for that favor. After all, it wasn’t like I was offering him anything.

“There’s a lot we can do without having sex. You know this.”

I wasn’t sure what ached more, my fractured heart or my nauseous stomach. My brave fingers tugged at his towel. It fell to the floor. Fisher didn’t flinch.

I had no clue what my plan was … I officially had the naked fisherman in front of me.

Completely naked.

Cock erect.

Eyes hooded.

Tongue slowly swiping his lower lip when I forced my gaze from his cock to his face.

“What now?” He smirked.

I had no clue, but my jealous mind drifted to partially waxed Tiffany. She wanted my naked fisherman.

“She can’t have you.” I tried to infuse confidence into my words, but I think it fell a little short of the mark.

“No?” He canted his head to the side.

“No.”

“What makes you so sure?”

I lowered to my knees, way out of my comfort zone. Way out of my own league of intimacy. And definitely scared out of my mind. I just … I wanted to be an adult with Fisher. I wanted to be a woman with him. And I didn’t want some hairless hussy meeting his needs.

“Reese …” His voice held reservation. It was the first sign since I came into his room that he was dealing with his own emotions, his own expectations or maybe lack thereof.

My hands ghosted up his legs and gently took ahold of him.

“I don’t expect this from you,” he whispered.

From you …

He expected it from other women? Like Tiffany? Teagan? Angie?

As if dealing with God wasn’t enough, I felt so much conflict because I had no clue what I was doing. Fisher became his own godlike man in my life. And I wanted to please him, nearly as much as God, who was surely frowning at my behavior … at what I was about to do out of wedlock.

Before Fisher could talk me out of it, I wrapped my lips around the head.

He closed his eyes.

I continued doing things to him with my mouth that seemed to please him, despite my cluelessness, keeping my eyes on his face the whole time like a guide. That was how I knew what he liked.

What made him breathe heavier.

What made his teeth dig into his lower lip.

What made his hands grip the side of the doorway, knuckles white.

What made him rock his hips ever so slightly.

Dropping one hand, he gently threaded his fingers into my hair. His muscles tightened, even the ones in his face.

At the last second, he took a step back. Gripping his cock in his hand, he dropped to his knees and kissed me, keeping one hand in my hair while his other hand did something …

I wasn’t sure what until his tongue drove deep into my mouth and a loud moan vibrated from his chest and throat, his body making a few short jerking motions.

Then he relaxed, releasing my mouth. I glanced down.

Whoa … okay …

He finished … the …uh … job on his bath towel.

“Fisher?” Rory called as three knocks tapped his bedroom door. “Are you coming?”

He grinned at me. It was so big and beautiful as he answered her. “Yes, I’m definitely coming.”

My cheeks caught fire.

“Give me five more minutes, Rory.”

I skittered to my feet and turned my back toward him, breathing heavily and wondering if she heard anything, if she knew I wasn’t downstairs.

“I have five minutes,” Fisher said just above a whisper as he pressed his naked body to my back and snaked a hand around my waist. His fingers dipped an inch into the front of my jeans.

“You should get dressed,” I said in a nervous tone, stepping out of his hold and circling to get out of his closet while tugging on my shirt to fan the heat away from my skin.

He chuckled. “What should I wear?”

I ignored him as I splashed water on my face and pressed a hand towel to it, trying to slow my breathing, trying to not think about my mom and her friends in the other room.

Tiffany … he was still going on a date with her. I bet she would do more than what I did to him, and she’d probably do it with way more confidence and experience. Fisher stood a few feet from me when I pulled the towel away from my face. He looked painfully sexy in his dark jeans, light blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and stark white sneakers.

He looked painfully sexy for someone else.

I was ready to puke.

“Why the face?”

I shook my head.

“Don’t shake your head.” He glanced at his watch. “I have three minutes left. What can I do to ease your anxiety?”

Don’t go.

“I’m not anxious.”

Lies … lies … lies …

“Then are we going out there together? Are we letting everyone know that you like to watch me shower and dress?”

I needed a second round of cold water on my face. “I didn’t watch you shower.”

He smirked. “But you’d like it, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re a jerk.”

Holding that smug expression for a beat, he nodded once. “Probably.” Again, he glanced at his watch. “Two minutes. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”

I rolled my eyes. “What are you going to do in two minutes?”

“Anything you want.”

My voice didn’t exist. It must have required more than eighteen years to find my voice. To unapologetically ask for what I wanted without fearing embarrassment or rejection.

I wanted him to not go.

I wanted him to stay with me.

I wanted him to touch me and make it feel good.

But I wanted him to do it without me having to ask.

“Time’s up.” He turned, making his way to the bedroom door with confident strides.

I balled my hands and clenched my teeth, fighting for one word, the smallest semblance of a voice.

Nothing.

He shut his door behind him and voices sounded from the other room. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my hands to my face, grumbling at myself for a few seconds before heading straight to the door and plastering my ear against it.

“Tiffany was the interior designer of the house you built in Golden last month,” Rose said.

“Oh really?” Fisher seemed a little too enthused.

“I was. It’s a beautiful home, Fisher. It’s my dream to have you build something for me someday.”

I rolled my eyes at Tiffany’s gushing reply.

“In fact, I’d take this house right here,” she continued.

Really? Could she have been any more obvious and needy? It was just … gross.

“I’d love to see what you did with the house in Golden,” Fisher said.

“Oh … absolutely. I’ll call the Jensens. They’d be totally cool with me showing it to you.” She laughed. “But I’m sure they know you quite well. I suppose you could call them too. Maybe we can make a date of it sometime.”

No. No. NO!

Peeling my ear from the door, I pressed both palms to it and sank into a squat, my forehead gently pressed to it as I closed my eyes and prayed for God to erase the past month from it.

Take me back to Texas.

And never let me think of Fisher Mann again.