by Jewel E. Ann
“Well, you’re not the nice guy everyone thinks you are.”
Fisher shot me a sour expression. “Oh, I’m absolutely the nice guy everyone thinks I am. I’ve been looking out for your immature ass for weeks.”
I scoffed. “You’ve been looking at my butt for weeks, not looking out for it.”
“You must think you have a great ass. What if you’re the only one?”
I started to scoff again, but I caught myself. Nope. I wasn’t going to let him drag me down to his level of cruelty. Once again, he proved how much of a terrible influence he was on me.
My inclination to do what was right.
And my desire to be a kind person.
Fisher granted me some silence, but only for ten minutes. Then he pulled into a car dealership.
“How much are you planning on spending?”
Ugh …
I’d planned on giving him the silent treatment for the better part of the day, but he had to make car shopping our first stop of the day.
“I don’t know. I should probably check with my grandparents. They’ll have to release the money to my account.”
“Well, it would have been smart of you to do that before suggesting we go car shopping.”
I frowned. “I thought it would be smart to know what car I wanted before going to them. They’re going to ask me about the car and how much money I need.”
“Okey dokey.” He pulled into an empty parking space and hopped out of the truck.
I climbed out just as he rounded the front of the truck and held open the door before shutting it behind me and locking it.
He turned, sauntering toward the lot of cars. I leaned my back against the truck door, resting one foot on the running board. A few seconds later, he glanced a foot behind him only to realize I wasn’t there. Then his gaze lifted to me.
Turning, he visibly blew out a long breath.
Yes, Fisher … I don’t always wear socks, and I reserve the right to be upset with you even if you are taking me car shopping.
I maintained my emotionless expression, giving nothing away, yet demanding everything.
His booted feet planted right in front of me as he rested one hand on a hip and tipped his chin toward his chest.
Another sigh.
“Apologize,” I said.
Ever so slowly, he lifted his gaze to me, a tiny grin quirking one side of his mouth. “For?”
“Exactly. I’m glad we agree that you have so much to apologize for.”
“The muffin?”
I nodded.
“I got you a new one.”
“But you didn’t apologize.”
“Actions speak louder than words. I. Got. You. A. New. One.”
“And last night? Your obnoxiousness? You agreeing to go on a date like … ten minutes after sticking your tongue down my throat? Making unnecessary jabs at Brendon, whom you’ve met once, for two seconds. What about that?”
Twisting his lips to the side, he narrowed his eyes. “Do you want a verbal apology? Or do you want a physical one?”
I wasn’t sure where he was going with that offering? A physical one?
“I’m not giving you both. So … choose carefully.”
“Define physical.”
“It’s something I do, instead of something I say.”
“What would you do?”
“I’m not telling you. Just choose.”
It was so ridiculous. Why couldn’t he simply say sorry and go on with the day? And why couldn’t I just choose the verbal apology? Why was I so curious about his physical gesture?
“Am I a toy to you?”
Fisher’s gaze slid down my body and inched its way back up to my face. That answered my question.
“Are you asking if I enjoy playing with you?”
“Are you going to sleep with your Friday night date?”
“And by sleep, you mean?”
“Fisher …”
“Are you going to sleep with your Sunday afternoon date?” He lifted one eyebrow.
“You know that answer.”
Fisher nodded slowly. “I do. But is it because of Jesus or because you gave me a hand job?”
“Are you going to sleep with your date because you have no moral code or because my hand job wasn’t good enough?”
Satisfaction lit up his entire face. “So you do admit it was a hand job.”
“Fisher …”
“Let’s find you a car so we can get to work.” He turned ninety degrees and retraced his original path toward the lot of cars.
I followed with my heart dragging behind me, getting bruised and scraped by the harsh road that was Fisher Mann.
“Hey, looking for anything specific?” the salesman asked.
“Something reliable with good gas mileage,” Fisher spoke for me.
“Something fast,” I said with a serious face.
The salesman gave me a dismissive “hehe” laugh.
“I have a Honda Accord over here. One owner. Sixty-five thousand miles. Good gas mileage. Reliable.”
“I’m thinking about an SUV because I’ll be making a lot of trips into the mountains.”
Again, the salesman gave me a look like I wasn’t the one purchasing the vehicle. “Subaru Outback?”
“Sounds good. Let’s see it,” Fisher said.
I shook my head. “My mom has one. I don’t want the same car.”
“It’s a good car. You can take it into the mountains.” Fisher tried to make a case for the Outback.
“I see you have a Porsche Cayenne at the front of the lot.”
Both men looked at me like I was crazy.
“Um … we do. It has close to forty-thousand miles on it, and it’s fifty-five thousand, but we could probably get you into it for a little less.”
“She’s not looking for a fifty-thousand-dollar vehicle,” Fisher said, walking down the row with the boring Outbacks and Accords.
“She is looking for whatever she wants.” I crossed my arms over my chest and followed him.
“We’ll test drive this one,” Fisher nodded toward a Subaru.
“I don’t want an Outback.”
“It’s a Forester.” He peered inside the window before reading the specifics on the sticker.
“I’ll grab the keys,” the salesman said.
“I needed a ride, not a parent. A ride, not a bully. What is your deal? This is my purchase. My decision.”
He took a break from the sticker to look at me. “Should we call Rory?”
“No.” I tipped up my chin.
“Then we’re test driving the Forester.”
“Fine. But I’m not buying it.”
He eyed the salesman getting closer behind me. “We’re not buying anything today, just test driving.”
“We’re not buying anything ever. I’m buying it.”
“I’ll just need to see your driver’s license, miss.”
I turned and huffed as I dug it out of my wallet.
“You can head north. It’s a nice three-mile loop.”
I took the key without acknowledging his suggestion or Fisher’s satisfied smile.
I wasn’t buying it.
And I wasn’t coming back with Fisher when I did decide to buy a car. Maybe Brendon would come with me. I felt fairly certain an attorney could negotiate a car deal for me just as if not better than Fisher.
“Left,” Fisher said as I pulled to a stop at the lot entrance.
“Shut up.”
I didn’t give him my full attention, but I also didn’t miss his smirk, how much he enjoyed me in my most unruly state.
We drove a mile up the road.
“It’s a nice vehicle.”
I ignored him.
Another mile.
“You could fit four friends and some camping gear in the back. If you have four friends.”
I swerved across three lanes of traffic to an exit.
“Jesus Christ!” He grabbed the dash. “What in the hell are you doing? Tryin
g to get us killed?”
I pulled into the empty parking lot of an elementary school. “Would you just shut up?” I punched the button to my seat belt and climbed out of the vehicle, marching with no purpose other than to get away from him.
Landing at the playground, I planted my butt on a swing, gripped the chains, and hung my head to take a timeout … a few long breaths to regain my composure.
Fisher’s work boots made it into my line of sight, but I wasn’t ready to look at him or talk to him or … acknowledge his existence on the planet.
As I said a silent prayer for him to not say anything, God answered it.
Fisher walked behind me and grabbed the chains close to the seat, pulling me backward and giving me a gentle push forward.
He did it again and again, until I was so high I felt like the younger version of myself taking a deep breath and staring at the blue sky, imagining what it would be like to touch it.
After … I didn’t know. Five minutes? Ten minutes? He stopped pushing me and waited for me to come to a complete stop without forcing it with my feet or anything else. It was hard to explain how that moment touched me. It was stupid, really, but I had never felt so much patience given to me from another human as I felt as Fisher waited for me to come to a complete stop.
Feet dangling in virtual stillness.
The mulch crunched beneath his boots as he appeared in front of me again. Kneeling in the dirty mulch, he slid his arms around my waist and rested his head on my lap.
My poor teenaged adult heart. It didn’t care if Fisher was good for me. It didn’t care about anything other than the way he made me feel in that moment. I released the chain with my right hand and threaded my fingers through his hair.
“I’m trying so hard…” I whispered, my voice shaky in my chest and wobbly as the words fell from my lips “…trying so hard not to fall in love with you.”
A few breaths later, he whispered back, “I know.”
I didn’t know what that meant. He knew I was falling in love with him? Or he, too, was trying to keep from loving me?
It didn’t matter, not at that moment. All that mattered was he knew me.
Fisher released my waist and sat back on his heels, resting his hands on the top of my work boots dangling in front of him. “What do you want?” He gave me his eyes and a world of sincerity in them.
It shook me.
Maybe because I had never experienced real love in the romantic sense.
Maybe because I was scared.
Maybe because I didn’t really know what I wanted.
“The Porsche Cayenne,” I said, giving him the tiniest of smiles because I knew what he meant, but I wasn’t emotionally ready to answer that question.
Him.
I wanted him, but I had no idea what that really looked like. Me, an eighteen-year-old teenaged adult with no real direction, and him, a twenty-eight-year-old adult with his own house, his own business, and many people relying on him.
We couldn’t have been at more different places in our lives, yet … we somehow found each other. And there was something there.
Something undeniable.
Something real.
Something I wasn’t ready for, but I sure didn’t want to let it go.
With a painful flash of amusement, he returned the hint of a grin and nodded while standing and holding out his hand to me. “Can you afford the Cayenne?”
I nodded.
“Then get the Cayenne.”
Resting my hand in his, I hopped off the swing. He interlaced our fingers and led me back to the Forester. We returned the keys and got in his truck to go to work.
Fifty grand. That’s what I needed to ask my grandparents to give me because I wanted the Cayenne because it was sexy and fun—just like the naked fisherman.
He dropped me off at the office. And later that day, he asked Hailey to give me a ride home since he had to play catch up from taking me car shopping.
“Good timing,” Rory said, getting out of her Outback right as I climbed out of Hailey’s truck. “Hey, Hailey. Long time no see. How are you?”
“Good, Rory,” Hailey said with her window down. “How was California?”
“Good, but I’m sure glad to be back here. Thanks for giving Reese a ride home.”
“No problem. Talk to you later.” She rolled up her window and backed out of the driveway as I gave her a wave.
“Where’s Fisher?” Rory asked as we walked around to the back of the house.
“Still working. He took me car shopping this morning, so I think that put him a little behind today.”
“Oh, that’s right. Did you find anything?”
I shrugged. “I suppose. I just need to talk to Grandma and Grandpa since they have to approve all large purchases and transfer the money to my account.”
She opened the door. “So what did you find? I love my Outback. Did you look at Subarus?”
“Um … yeah, we actually test drove a Forester.”
“Nice. Was it in your price range?”
“Yeah, but I saw another small SUV that I liked too. We didn’t test drive it today, but I might another day.”
“That’s good. You don’t want to make a rash decision. It’s your first big purchase.”
“I know.” I unlaced my boots, slipped them off, and tossed my backpack onto my bed. “I’m going to grab a quick shower.”
“Okay. I’ll start dinner,” Rory called.
Chapter Twenty-One
I didn’t see Fisher 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 qu
ick 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.”