The Fisherman Series : Special Edition

by Jewel E. Ann

  That wasn’t the reality.

  He let go of my belt loop, and we squeezed through the opening between two security guards, where Arnie and the rest of our group waited for us.

  “You were amazing. I can’t believe Fisher hasn’t been bragging about you.” From the corner of my eye, I could see Fisher frown as I gushed to Arnie.

  I could also see Angie’s arm slide around Fisher’s waist the way Teagan had once laid claim to him. Would it ever be me doing that? I wondered.

  “Thanks, gorgeous.” Arnie took my hand and pulled me toward an exit. “Let’s grab some food. I’m starving.” He seemed high. It had to be a real adrenaline rush playing to a roomful of screaming fans.

  “Don’t you need your shirt?”

  “Nah. That’s for you. I have another one in my vehicle.”

  Making a quick glance backward, I made sure everyone else was following us. Yep. The two couples arm-in-arm. Three happy faces and a grumpy naked fisherman.

  I rode with Arnie in his Escalade with the others behind us. He didn’t make me the least bit uncomfortable, which surprised me. We talked about his band and where he’d played, along with his future gigs across the U.S. opening for some bigger bands.

  We ended up at a fancy European restaurant, and I felt so underdressed. I would not have, had I left on my nipples top. Even Arnie slipped on a nicer button-down over his white tee.

  “Have you been here?” he asked, again taking my hand and leading me toward the entrance as everyone else pulled into parking spaces.

  “I have not.”

  “You’ll love it. The food is phenomenal. And the atmosphere is even better. Big crystal chandeliers. Checkered floors. It’s a little dark.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “And a little sexy.”

  “Sounds … cool,” I squeaked the words because my level of comfort started to decline. Even if I wasn’t with the guy I wanted to be with, I was glad that Arnie and I weren’t alone.

  “I don’t know if we can afford this,” Christina joked as we gathered just inside the door. But I didn’t think it was entirely a lie.

  “I know the owner. And it’s on me. No worries.” Arnie puffed out his chest and grinned.

  I didn’t have to look at Fisher to know his eyes were rolling around in his head at his brother’s need to flaunt.

  As soon as we were seated, Christina stood. “Ladies’ room?” She eyed me.

  I nodded.

  Out of courtesy, we gave Angie a quick questioning glance, but she didn’t even look our way. She was too busy drooling over my guy!

  As soon as we slipped into the posh ladies’ room, Christina grabbed my shoulders. “Oh my god. Arnie is so into you. Seriously, what if he makes it really big? You could tour with him. Live the life of a rock star’s girlfriend.”

  “I don’t see us being that serious.” I laughed it off.

  “Well, everyone sees the way he’s looking at you, so there’s no doubt about what he wants to do with you.” She turned and fixed her hair in the frame-lit mirror.

  I didn’t say anything, but I must have had a slight grimace on my face because she glanced up at my reflection and narrowed her eyes. “I know you went to that church school, but … you’ve had sex, right?”

  “Well …” I rubbed my lips together, thinking of the right answer.

  “Oh my god. Well is not a yes. It’s a no.” She whipped around. “Reese! You’re a virgin?”

  If I didn’t have a true grimace before, I definitely did after she yelled that. I surveyed the room, praying we were the only ones in there, and it appeared that we were.

  “I’m waiting until I’m married. It’s no big deal.”

  “No. If it were no big deal, you’d be all over that rock star out there. I have a boyfriend, but Arnie makes me want to not have one … for just one night.”

  “When…” I bit the end of my thumbnail “…when did you have sex for the first time?”

  “A week before my seventeenth birthday. Tate Hoover. Remember him?”

  “You had sex with Tate Hoover? The kid who rarely talked and played trombone?”

  “Yes.” She shrugged. “He was nice. And had strong lips from all the trombone playing. Also, his rhythm was perfection.”

  I covered my mouth and snorted. “Oh my gosh.”

  Christina smirked. “So … you haven’t had sex. What have you done? I know you’ve kissed a guy. Maybe two, yeah?”

  I nodded slowly. “And uh … recently I had a date, a couple of dates with someone. Not Arnie. And we did some stuff.”

  She lifted a perfectly drawn eyebrow. “Elaborate on stuff.”

  My cheeks felt warm just thinking about it. “We kissed … a lot. And I … well …”

  “Oh my god, just spill. Did he go down on you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Did you give him head?”

  Another head shake.

  “Did he finger you?”

  My lips twisted.

  She grinned. “So he’s had his hand in your panties?”

  I nodded. I liked the yes and no questions best.

  “Have you seen his cock?”

  Biting my lower lip, I shook my head.

  “Touched it?”

  Head shake.

  “Hand up your shirt?”

  Nod.

  “Mouth on your breasts?”

  Nod.

  “Has he made you orgasm?”

  Nod.

  “Oh … then you’re close. You’re basically going through all the motions. Just do it. I don’t really think you get extra points from God for being a virgin.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I disagree.”

  “You’ve been brainwashed for three years. Of course you disagree.”

  “I haven’t been brainwashed.”

  She shot me a look, a look like she didn’t believe me or couldn’t believe I really believed it either.

  “How’s your mom? I heard that’s why you’re in Denver.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve spent less than three days with her. She’s out in California doing some training. She comes back at the end of the week.”

  “So you’ve been living alone?”

  “Well, sort of. She rents the basement of Fisher’s house. So I’m in the basement alone, but he lives on the main floor.”

  “Living with your sexy boss, huh? Rough life. Too bad he has a girlfriend. And he’s a little old for you.”

  I took the chance to mess with my hair in the mirror. “You think ten years older is too old? I mean … I’m just asking because I know people who are married who have ten or more years between them.”

  “Yeah. I suppose. I couldn’t imagine dating someone ten years older than me right now. Jamison is four years older, and sometimes I feel like we have to find things in common because he’s just at a different place in his life. Ten years would be even crazier. Speaking of Jamison, we’d better get back out there. You didn’t actually have to pee, right?”

  “I’m good.”

  “Everything fine?” Jamison asked Christina as we sat back down at the table.

  “Totally. Sorry we took so long. I had to cool Reese down. Her date tonight has her overheating.”

  Oh no. No. No. NO! Why did she say that?

  Arnie lit up, more than a little pleased to hear that. Angie nudged Fisher and grinned like she needed to urge him to be excited to hear that. But Fisher’s stony expression didn’t give that same happy vibe.

  And what was I supposed to say? No. I wasn’t attracted to Arnie? That would have been a slap in the face to the guy who got us front row seats and was paying for dinner at an expensive restaurant.

  So … with a shy grin, I sat down and didn’t confirm nor deny it.

  The alcohol flowed nonstop over the next two hours. The food was ridiculously good. And the company wasn’t bad. Aside from my glass of ice water, I felt like a real adult on a date with the wrong guy.

  With every sip of wine, Angie got more handsy with Fisher, and that made me re
main idle when Arnie rested his arm on the back of my chair, squeezed my leg playfully, and whispered things in my ear. Some things I couldn’t understand because he’d had too much to drink, but other short phrases included things like “you look so hot tonight” or “I can’t stop staring at you.”

  Those little things seemed to feed Fisher’s need to drink more too. By the time Arnie lazily signed for the meal, Jamison and I were the only sober ones at the table. I was glad he was being responsible for my friend.

  “I’ll order a ride,” Fisher mumbled as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

  “Good idea, babe.” Angie hugged his arm and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “I can drive.” I shrugged.

  “Yesss …” Arnie stood and held out his hand. “You can drive them home.” He nodded to Fisher and Angie. “Then you can drive me. And I’ll get you home in the morning.” He smiled like it was a genius idea.

  “Fuck no …” Fisher spoke up, and I froze. Where was he going with his objection? Would he vomit the truth in his inebriated condition? “I told Rory I’d watch her. I can’t watch her at your house.”

  “Babe.” Angie pinched his cheeks. “I don’t think you can watch anyone …” She giggled. “Except me.”

  I grabbed Arnie’s key fob from his hand. “Let’s go. We’ll figure it out.”

  Just outside of the restaurant, Christina hugged me. “Bye, my bestest friend ever. I hope you get some yum yum tonight.” She giggled.

  “Bye.” I shook my head as Jamison rolled his eyes at her drunkenness.

  I was able to just click “Home” on Arnie’s navigation since no one was with it enough to give me his address. It took fifteen minutes to get there. I hopped out to make sure he made it to his door okay.

  “Stay.” He put his hands into prayer position. “Please.”

  “I have to take them home. But I had fun. Thank you so much.”

  “Fine.” He sighed. “Goodnight, hot girl.”

  Just as I started to laugh, he grabbed my face and kissed me. It was hard, but rather still. Not a lot of movement.

  “Goddamn … you taste good.” He opened his door and stumbled inside.

  As soon as the door shut, I wiped my mouth and descended the walk to his Escalade. When I climbed into the driver’s seat, I could feel Fisher’s gaze on me from the back seat with Angie draped across his lap sleeping.

  “What’s Angie’s address?”

  “Just go home,” Fisher said.

  “It’s no problem. I can take—”

  “She’s staying with me tonight, and we’ll get her vehicle tomorrow. Just go.”

  I think I would have preferred an actual kick to my gut than to hear his anger. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it wasn’t. Either way, I couldn’t talk past the lump in my throat all the way home.

  “Let’s go. Can you walk?” Fisher asked Angie.

  “Carry me, babe,” she said in a sleepy voice.

  As I shut the driver’s door, he lifted her from the back seat and kicked the door shut, wobbling a bit as if being reminded that he, too, had plenty to drink.

  “Ninety-three-eleven is my garage code,” Fisher said.

  I typed it in and led the way to open the door to the house, wondering who this woman really was in his life. How did she come and go like they were still together?

  Touching him.

  Calling him “babe.”

  Batting her eyelashes.

  I didn’t get it.

  “Can you find your feet?” he asked her as he eased her from his arms.

  Angie wobbled a bit on her heels before stepping out of them and wobbling a bit more as she made her way down the short hallway to his bedroom. “Don’t make me wait,” she said, unzipping her dress and letting it fall to the floor a few feet from his door.

  I lost sight of her as she reached to unhook her bra.

  Fisher rubbed his temples, closing his eyes. “Thanks for driving.”

  A naked woman awaited him in his bedroom just hours after he sucked my breasts while pinning me to his front door, and “Thanks for driving” was his response?

  “I’m going to church in the morning, so someone else will have to get Arnie’s vehicle back to him.” My emotions teetered on the edge of a complete breakdown. I knew Fisher would deal with Arnie and his vehicle, but I felt the need to act as unaffected as possible by what he was likely getting ready to do with his childhood sweetheart. And talking about the Escalade was better than screaming at him because that’s what I really wanted to do.

  “Of course.” He moseyed to the kitchen sink to get a glass of water, taking it down just as quickly as he did earlier that day when I brought him water while he was mowing the lawn.

  I opened my mouth to say goodnight, but I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want him to have a good night. So I opened the basement door and just as quickly closed it behind me before the tears released.

  Just as I reached the bottom of the stairs, the door opened. My fingers made swift moves to wipe my cheeks.

  One step.

  Two steps.

  “What do you need?” I asked.

  Three steps.

  Four steps.

  “There’s a naked woman in your bedroom. Better not keep her waiting.” I turned on the light in the family room and slipped off my sandals, keeping my back to him as I used the back of the sectional to steady myself while balancing on one foot and then the other.

  “If it’s not you, then I don’t give a fuck who’s naked in my bed.” He slid his hand around my waist and pulled my back to his chest.

  Gripping his arm with my hands, I drew in a slow breath.

  Angie was upstairs.

  “You’re drunk,” I whispered.

  He chuckled, burying his nose in my hair. “I’m over the legal limit; I’m not drunk. There’s a difference.”

  “Well, babe …” I peeled his arms away from me and put a few feet between us. “Why are you not married to that woman upstairs? Your family adores her. I mean adores her. And she obviously thinks the two of you are in some never-ending relationship. Why is that? Are you? Is she your endgame, but for now you’re screwing around with other women until you’re ready to commit? Because you guys are not broken up. She doesn’t just show up out of nowhere and fall back into your bed.”

  Twisting his lips, he cocked his head a fraction. I made him think. Really think.

  “You have the best tits. Not too small, but not too big. And I could suck on your nipples all day. They are nothing short of perfect.”

  Never mind. I didn’t make him think at all. I ignored my blush. He brought it out of me with a look, and when he talked dirty to me, it took over my whole body.

  “You’re drunk.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “No.” He grinned holding up two fingers then three. Then back to two. “Scouts honor. In the morning, I will still find your tits to be the best thing I’ve seen or tasted in a very long time. If they were on Yelp, I’d leave a five-star review of them.”

  “Stop.” I bit my lips to keep from grinning.

  “I will not stop. I haven’t even started talking about your legs.” He took two steps toward me, and I retreated to keep the distance.

  “Angie is beautiful. I’m not blind. I’m sure her … breasts are Yelp worthy, and her legs are incredibly toned, along with her arms. Her silky hair and skin. And she’s successful. Age appropriate. And she’s naked in your bed. So you might have to explain to me why you’re down here with me.”

  Fisher deflated, a long breath releasing from his nose as his shoulders dropped an inch. “She wants a husband and a houseful of babies. A dog. Two cats. And a minivan.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “Not yet.”

  “So …” I glanced up at the ceiling and laughed, but it didn’t really feel funny. “You are looking for someone to mess around with until you decide you’re ready for wife material. That’s awesome, Fisher. Rory comes home in a few days. What’s the poin
t? I’m not having sex with you. And why are you so anti-family? You’re twenty-eight. Do you know how many men have a family by the time they’re your age?”

  “No.” He prowled toward me again, this time without stopping. “And neither do you. So what’s your point? You’re eighteen. The whole point of your life should be to live in the fucking moment without caring if everything you do makes complete sense.”

  “Stop.” I shook my head, running out of space to escape him as my butt rammed into the pool table.

  “I don’t want to stop. Do you? Do you really want to stop?”

  “I don’t know,” I whispered. I didn’t love the taste of beer, but I thought I’d like it if I tasted it in his mouth. So I kissed him, and he kissed me back. I was right … beer tasted best on Fisher’s tongue. Every well-sorted moral thought in my head jumbled, like the wind catching a neatly stacked pile of papers and scattering them everywhere.

  No page numbers.

  No sense of meaning.

  Just a big, unimaginable mess.

  That was what Fisher Mann did to me. He messed with my thoughts.

  And that was why I didn’t protest when he removed my shirt … and my bra.

  I didn’t protest when he unbuttoned my shorts and dropped to his knees in front of me to slide them down my legs, along with my panties. My eyes glossed over with an unfamiliar feeling, like everything he did entered my bloodstream—a drug that robbed any sense of control or objection my brain might have otherwise formulated.

  Lifting one leg and then the other, he freed them from my shorts.

  “Fisher …” Everything inside of me felt heavy and slow. My dry mouth panted slowly.

  Was he going to put his mouth between my legs?

  Was I going to stop him if he did?

  All these things I didn’t know for sure. Part of me wanted him to stop because I wasn’t sure I had the will power to do it myself. But a bigger part of me indulged the curiosity that seemed to have the greatest power over my decisions in that moment.

  What were his plans for us? Sex? Oral sex?

  He kissed my hipbone and moved a little lower … and a little lower yet. My heart thundered so loudly in my chest, sending blood whooshing past my ears with such force, I could barely hear him when he did speak.