Fisher shook his head, but his smile made the bigger statement as he shut his door and put his truck into drive. I pressed my fingers to my lips and kissed them, blowing it to him. He winked and drove out of the driveway.
“Oh, naked fisherman … this is going to hurt.” I crossed my hands over my chest to comfort my heart. Who was I kidding? I knew I was already too invested in him. And even if I also knew I would have to let us end when Rory returned, it still hurt. Even if Fisher didn’t share the same emotions, I knew he would always be my first love—that really good kind of love where my brain had no say. The kind with no logical explanation. The kind that took a special place in my heart as first.
God willing, I would go on to love another. Have a family. And die in the arms of my husband. But … first would always be Fisher Mann.
Hailey wasn’t feeling well, so I went to work. I delivered lunch to the roofers.
“Thanks. You must be Reese.” A guy with black hair and a major suntan smiled at me; it made his teeth stark white.
“Yes.” I handed him the sacks of food and slipped my hands into the back pockets of my jeans.
He inspected the sacks and smiled a little. I ignored his smirk, his unspoken observation. “I’m Jeremiah. Hailey was telling me about you.” He peeled his eyes from the big sacks filled with little sacks.
Jeremiah was hot. That wasn’t really up for debate. I could see why Hailey thought I’d like him.
“Funny, she might have mentioned you to me as well.” I tried to control my grin.
“I missed her party. I heard you were there … alone.”
“Yeah, I was.”
He glanced over my shoulder. “I’d better get to eating my lunch. Bossman’s here.”
I twisted my body and squinted at the white truck and Bossman climbing out. Aviators on. He sipped something red from the straw of a big plastic cup from a convenience store.
“Boss,” Jeremiah said.
“Jeremiah,” Fisher said in a fairly neutral tone.
“Can I get your number from Hailey later?” Jeremiah asked me as if Fisher wasn’t hearing every word. “We could hangout this weekend if you don’t have plans. My parents have a place near Breckenridge.”
Fisher stepped right next to me. My attention shifted between the two men. I anticipated Fisher saying something, but he didn’t. Instead, he sipped his drink like a ten-year-old who just got his favorite beverage and couldn’t stop nursing it.
“I … uh … have plans already. But thanks.” I pressed my lips together so Fisher didn’t think I was flirting with Jeremiah.
“Maybe another time?”
I didn’t know how to reply, so I nodded just before Jeremiah took off with the bags of food for the crew.
“What are your plans?” Fisher asked, taking a two second break from his straw.
“What are you doing here?”
“Working.” He shrugged, taking a longer break from his drink. “What are you doing here?”
“Delivering lunch.”
“Did you bring me lunch?”
I shook my head. “I can get you lunch. What do you want?”
“You.”
On a nervous laugh, I glanced around to see if anyone heard him. “I don’t think I know what that means.”
“I think you do.” He brushed past me to the crew sitting along the side of the house in the shade, eating their lunch.
I didn’t move, mostly because I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to head back to the office or get him lunch … me … which … yeah, I had an idea of what that might have entailed. But it wasn’t on the menu. However, just thinking about it, made me feel an unfamiliar need, a foreign feeling between my legs, and the recently new wet feeling that wasn’t a bladder issue.
It had to be better than men getting untimely erections. After all, I could hide it. Still, I felt like everyone who looked at me somehow knew.
As Fisher chatted with his crew, inspected their lunches while shaking his head, I thought long and hard about the definition of sex and temptation. I tried to make a case for sex being only intercourse. That left a lot of options.
“Let’s go.” Fisher strutted toward me, sipping his red drink.
“What is that?” My nose scrunched.
“Fruit punch and iced tea.” He held it out for me.
I eyed the guys eating their lunches, making sure they weren’t watching us before I took a sip.
“Don’t do that.” Fisher grimaced, taking his drink and crossing the street toward his truck.
“Do what?” I followed him since I was parked behind him.
“Lick your lips like that.”
I chuckled. “I didn’t lick them like anything. Why?”
“Because I’ve been dealing with a fucking hard-on since you climbed into my truck this morning.”
Fisher … so uncensored.
He had no idea—or maybe he did—how much it thrilled me to know that I could slowly unravel him in that way. It made me feel powerful, yet incredibly weak at the same time because I had no clue what to do with my accidental sorcery.