The Fisherman Series : Special Edition

by Jewel E. Ann

“What’s your shoe size?” he asked.

  “Nine.”

  “Really?” He glanced back at me. “Big feet.”

  My nose wrinkled. “Nine isn’t that big.”

  “For a woman it is.”

  “Pfft …” I shook my head.

  “Sit.” He nodded toward a bench.

  “I’m not a dog.” I held my own to prove … well … that I wasn’t a dog.

  “You’re right. A dog would be better behaved.”

  “Jerk.” I plopped onto the bench while Fisher tracked down an employee.

  A few minutes later, he returned with three boxes. “Take off your shoes.”

  I slipped out of my tennis shoes.

  “Reese …” He stared at my feet. “Where are your socks?”

  “My shoes have wool inserts. They don’t require socks.”

  He grumbled. That meant he was mad at me.

  “Well, they don’t.” I shrugged.

  Dropping the three boxes onto the bench next to me, he stomped his work boots in the direction of a rack of socks. After quickly picking a pair, he ripped the tag off them and handed them to me. “Put these socks on.” His no-nonsense attitude prevented me from saying or doing anything but exactly what he asked me to do.

  “Here.” He retrieved a boot from the first box and loosened the laces before handing it to me.

  I shoved my foot into it, but before I could tie it, Fisher hunched in front of me and tied the laces with fast and furious hands. “Walk.”

  Standing on command like a good dog, I walked, really hobbled because I only had on one boot. Stopping at a floor mirror, I inspected it.

  “Well?” he said.

  “They’re ugly.”

  Another grumble. At least, I thought it was a grumble. Maybe it was a growl. “You know what else is ugly? Toes with nails poked through them or toes crushed by heavy objects. Let me reframe my question. How do they fit?”

  “They? You mean it? Trying on one boot tells me nothing except that it’s ugly … and hard to walk in one boot.”

  “Great. Glad you like them. Here. Put on the other boot, and let’s get you a hard hat.”

  I slipped on the other boot and tied it much slower than Fisher did. Then I followed him to another part of the store as he carried the boot box holding my tennis shoes and the tag to my socks.

  “Let’s see how this fits.” He put a hard hat on my head.

  “It’s loose.”

  He removed it and tightened the inside strap.

  “How about now?”

  I nodded. “Better.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Did I do something wrong?” I asked, scurrying to catch up to him.

  “Nope. We just have a busy afternoon.”

  “And I didn’t wear socks.”

  “And you didn’t wear socks,” he echoed me, setting the box and the hard hat on the register counter.

  “Are you going to fire me?”

  The employee on the other side of the counter eyed us cautiously.

  “Not until we get to the truck.” He tapped his credit card to the machine and slipped it back in his wallet.

  The employee’s eyes widened, focusing mainly on me.

  “Do I have to reimburse you for the boots and hat if you fire me?”

  “Yes.” He grabbed the box before she could put it in a bag, then shoved the hat on my head, a little crooked. “Let’s go.”

  “That … all of that back there … it was part of the fifty percent that I should ignore. Right?”

  “You’re on the clock. Never ignore me when you’re on the clock.”

  “So I can ignore you when I clock out?”

  “You can do whatever you want to me when you clock out.”

  Gah!

  There it was again. His words were so suggestive, leaving me with no choice but to let my mind think the most inappropriate things.

  “What if I want to …” I stopped. I had no clue where I was going with that. At least, not consciously.

  He opened my door despite his rules about not opening it for me. “What if you want to what?”

  “Nothing.” I climbed into the seat and grabbed the box from him.

  “I worry about you. What lies beneath the surface …” He shook his head slowly.

  Before I could act offended or actually be offended, he slammed my door shut.

  My first night alone, truly alone, was weird. I locked the door at the top of the stairs to keep the naked fisherman out of the basement. Yet, every time I heard a strange noise, all I wanted to do was run up the stairs and ask him to figure out where the noise came from. It didn’t take long to understand what Fisher meant when he said I was only an adult in age. Hiding beneath my blankets, I felt like a ten-year-old hiding from the boogie man.

  I didn’t see Fisher at all on Saturday—then again, I never left the basement. On Sunday, I made my first big solo outing to a nearby church. They dressed a little more casual than what I was used to at my grandparents’ church in Texas, but everyone was nice. I left with at least a dozen new contacts in my phone from members offering to help me get acclimated to the area in any way possible.

  “What’s the occasion?”

  Getting out of my mom’s Outback, I turned toward Fisher’s voice. Seriously, did he ever wear a shirt at home? He was, in my mom’s words, spit-shining his motorcycle in the driveway next to his truck.

  Shorts that hung too low in front.

  No shoes or socks.

  Tan from head to toe. He was a mix of Theo James and Liam Hemsworth. Definitely Theo’s smile when he wasn’t grumbling.

  “What do you mean?” I moseyed in his direction, sliding my purse strap onto my shoulder.

  “The dress. Hair. Makeup.” He shot me a quick glance before returning his attention to the motorcycle, working the chrome by the tires.

  “Well, in all fairness, you’ve seen me after a long flight. With bedhead in the middle of the night. And thrown together early in the morning to take my mom to the airport.”

  “Let me rephrase. Where have you been?”

  I stood next to his truck, keeping a good six feet between us. “Not that it’s any of your business, because it’s Sunday and I don’t work for you today, but I went to church.”

  “Oh yeah? How’d that go?”

  “Fine. I made a lot of friends.”

  “I can see that about you.”

  “Making friends?”

  “Making friends at church.”

  “Ha. Ha. I can make friends outside of church too. But my boss won’t let me out of his truck for more than two seconds, so I never get the chance to …”

  “To what?” He gave me another quick glance while wiping his arm along his forehead.

  “To meet people like Jeremiah.” I lifted a shoulder, casually hinting at my interest in Jeremiah whom I hadn’t met yet.

  “Like him? Or him?”

  “Either.”

  “I don’t think he attends church.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Oh, it mattered a lot, but I hated the way Fisher made me feel like a prim and proper church girl.

  “He swears,” Fisher said.

  “So?”

  “So, I notice you cringe when I say fuck, shit, damn, crap, even dick. And dick’s not a swear word, right? It’s more of a body part or synonym for asshole, which you don’t like either.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “My point is, would you really enjoy being around Jeremiah if he used that language in all of his sentences?”

  “It’s not me saying it, so whatever.”

  “Really?” He stopped his polishing again to inspect me, to read me. “What if he wants to do more than hang out with you? Is that something you’re down for?”

  “I don’t think the things I’m down for are any of your business.”

  “Maybe you should stick to your new church friends. I’d feel better about it and so would Rory.”

  “Well, I’m—”

&nb
sp; “Yeah, yeah … you’re an adult. I’ve heard you mention it a time or two.”

  “Well, it’s true. So that means I don’t need your permission or Rory’s permission to hang out with whomever I want to hang out with.”

  “How rebellious of you. Are you throwing your V-card to the wind and having a hot girl summer?”

  “What makes you so sure I have my V-card?” I knew I was marching, with zero regard for self-preservation, straight into a snake pit.

  He stood tall and draped the towel over his shoulder while scratching his jaw with his other hand, lips corkscrewed. “Just a wild guess.”

  “Because I went to a Christian school?”

  “No.” He chuckled. “That might actually make a better case for you not having your V-card. Repression and all that shit.”

  “Then what?”

  “Just little things like the way you’re so quick to get defensive, like now. Or the way you fidget when I make you uncomfortable with a topic like this. But really, it was the way you looked at me the day we met. Like you hadn’t seen a guy without his shirt on. The way you’re looking at me right now.”

  My gaze snapped from his chest to his face and embarrassment flamed up my neck to my cheeks. “You’re a little too full of yourself. I’ve seen plenty of shirtless men.”

  “But have you seen any naked men?”

  Dang it!

  I walked right into that. Why did I stop and engage in conversation with him? I should have kept walking toward the basement. “I mean …”

  He grinned like he’d caught me. And my lack of ability to answer right away only added to his proof. “You wouldn’t have had to technically see the guy’s entire naked body to have sex with him, but I’d hope you would have insisted on it. The visual is half the fun.”

  The sun was no match for the heat in my face and really, everywhere along my body. Nobody had ever talked to me like Fisher talked to me. On one hand, he liked to treat me like a child, on the other hand, he spoke to me in a way that felt crude and borderline inappropriate.

  But inappropriate for whom? His employee? Yes. The daughter of his tenant? Probably. An eighteen-year-old girl … woman? Well, the woman in me wanted to say no, but the girl who did in fact still have her V-card cringed everywhere. That girl felt like a ten-year-old who just had a perv expose himself to her on the playground.

  “I’ve seen a naked man.”

  Man. Yes, as in man oh man … why couldn’t I shut my stupid mouth and go bury my head beneath a pillow for the rest of the day? Or the rest of my life?

  “Oh yeah?” He squinted against the sun. “That’s good to know. It takes the pressure off me. I’m a clothing optional kind of guy. Rory has seen more than she bargained for. Of course, she was cool about it. Like mother like daughter, huh?”

  Was I cool with seeing the naked fisherman? No. Could he not see my face? I was the complete opposite of cool. No ‘like mother like daughter.’ My mom had seen a naked man before. Maybe more than one. I never asked my parents about their relationships before they met each other. I never got the chance.

  “I’m going to change my clothes and maybe head into the mountains. I’ve never been.”

  “Wait. What? You grew up in Nebraska and you’ve never been to the mountains?” he asked with the right amount of shock because it was shocking. A crime, really.

  “No. Not the Rockies.”

  “That’s insane. And you thinking your first trip into the mountains should be by yourself is just as insane. Let me change my clothes. I’ll take you.”

  “I don’t need a chaperone. Really. I have navigation on my phone. It’s not snowing up there, is it?”

  “Unlikely. But you’ll encounter some steep grades. And people drive crazy fast on some of those winding roads because they’re used to them. You’re not used to them. Rory would kill me if I let you go alone.”

  “I’ll let her know it was my decision.”

  “Your decision to get eaten by a bear or bitten by a rattlesnake. Great. Just what I need.”

  “What do you mean bears and rattlesnakes?”

  “I mean the mammal that’s brown or black and has sharp teeth and even sharper claws. And snakes are reptiles—”

  “Fisher! I get it. I know what bears and snakes are. I just wasn’t aware that they were a concern for a day trip to the mountains.”

  “Chill.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I was only looking out for you. The problem with new adults, such as yourself, is that you abandon all common sense in the name of independence. You’ve been all grown up for two seconds. You’ve been here for less than two seconds. It’s okay to ask for help or allow someone to go places with you when there’s a chance you could get into a bad situation.”

  Widening my stance, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Are you going to spend the day lecturing me? Are you going to complain if I don’t wear the right shoes or go without socks? Are you going to—”

  “Fuck it, woman. No.” He shook his head and sauntered into the garage. “I’m not going with you. It’s my day off, and I shouldn’t have to subject myself to your attitude. I regret mentioning any of it. Go conquer the world. I’m out of fucks to give.”

  I flinched with every “fuck,” thankful he didn’t see me because it would have confirmed his earlier accusations. Without another word, I escaped to the basement. He’d planted the seed, making me doubt my ability or even my sanity for going into the mountains alone. If I didn’t go, it would’ve looked like I’d succumbed to his fear tactics. If I did go and anything bad happened, he would have to tell Rory, making me look like the stubborn, immature, fake adult he pegged me for.

  “Gah! Stupid naked fisherman!” I ripped off my dress and pulled on a pair of shorts and a fitted red T-shirt. Then I found a pair of socks to wear with my tennis shoes.

  Sunscreen.

  Bug spray.

  Water bottle.

  Energy bar.

  Cell phone.

  What more could a girl need? I wasn’t staying for a week, roughing it in the wilderness.

  As I slung my backpack over my shoulder, my phone rang.

  Rory.

  “Hey.” I headed out the door and closed and locked it behind me.

  “Hey, sweetie. I just called Fisher to check in. He mentioned you taking a trip into the mountains today. It’s not a good idea to go by yourself, given the fact you’ve never driven in the mountains.”

  “Thanks for your concern, but I’ll be fine.” I gazed out at the mountains. They didn’t look so tough from where I stood.

  “I’d feel better if Fisher went with you.”

  “Well, that makes one of us.”

  “Do you have a problem with Fisher?”

  I closed my eyes and blew out a breath. “No. No problems with Fisher. It’s just that he’s my boss now, and maybe I don’t want to be under his watchful eye on the weekend too. And really, do you think he wants to deal with me on his day off? No. I don’t think so.”

  “He said he’d love to take you today.”

  Liar.

  “He did, did he? Well, that’s not what he said to me.”

  “Oh? What did he say to you?”

  I couldn’t tell her. It involved using the F-word twice, and I wasn’t comfortable with saying it outside of my head.

  “He basically said he didn’t want to go because it’s his day off. His day off from me.”

  “Wait until I get home. We’ll go together.”

  “You want me to wait half the summer to go up into the mountains? That’s not fair.”

  “Reese …”

  “I’ve got this. Really.”

  “I’m going to call Fisher back.”

  “No! I mean … just let it go. Stop treating me like a child who needs a chaperone. I don’t need someone watching me anymore. I didn’t come here to have you or your friend watch me. I came here to be with you. Now you’re gone, so I’m on my own. And that’s fine. I get it. But don’t think that Fisher is your replacement
.”

  After a long pause, she cleared her throat. “Okay. You’re right. Just … be careful and text me when you get home, so I know you made it back safely.”

  “Fine.” I huffed while ending the call.

  College was starting to sound better and better, even if I had no clue what I would study if I got there. At least my life would have felt like mine. Mine to succeed. Mine to fail.

  I marched past Fisher’s driveway to Rory’s Outback parked on the street. Without giving him a single glance, I tossed my backpack in the back seat and slipped into the driver’s seat. Turning the key, nothing happened. I tried again. And again, nothing happened. Not a single sound.

  “Are you kidding me? Dear Lord, please let this car start.” I tried one more time.

  Silence. Not one peep like the engine was making a single effort to turn on. I’d just driven it to church and back. God wasn’t answering my prayer that day.

  After reaching around and snatching my backpack from the back seat, I made the walk of shame past the driveway.

  “Battery’s dead. I’ve been telling Rory for weeks she needs a new one. I’ll drop a new battery in it tomorrow after work.”

  I glanced over at Fisher using a squeegee to remove the water from his clean garage floor. “I can call someone.”

  “Or…” he shook his head and grinned “…you can call someone on your own.”

  I sulked toward the side of the house.

  “I’m going for a ride on my motorcycle. Want to come along?”

  “I’m sure my mom would think riding on the back of your motorcycle is a terrible idea.”

  “Probably.” He hooked the squeegee on the wall and grabbed a towel to dry his hands. “That’s why we won’t tell her.”

  “Like you didn’t tell her I was going into the mountains?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t know it was a secret.”

  “I’m going to work on my crossword puzzles.” I ducked my head and kept walking.

  “I’m going to shower. I’ll be leaving in fifteen minutes. If you’re going, change into jeans.”

  “Have fun,” I called back with virtually no sincerity.

  Chapter Eight

  After depositing my bag onto my bed, I made myself a sandwich. Ten minutes later, with half of my sandwich gone, I eyed the time on my phone.