The Naked Fisherman (Fisherman 1) - Page 6

“Reese, sweetie, come into the back room with us.” Rory poked her head into my room and shined a flashlight on me.

I sat up in bed and rubbed my eyes. Taking two steps, I froze. “Oh!” My hands covered my boobs. They weren’t out and about or anything crazy like that. I had on a thin white tank top, no bra. “Jeez, you …”

The naked fisherman (okay, he had shorts on) eyed me and wore a smirk that wasn’t all that comforting. “Yes, me. The basement is the safest place. Utility room. Let’s go.” He held up an actual flashlight, one of those long metal ones.

I guarded my eyes with one hand and snatched the blanket from the bed with my other hand.

“I can’t remember the last time I heard the sirens go off, aside from testing it,” Fisher said, shutting the door to the unfinished utility area.

“We should pray. I can do it.”

My mom and Fisher stared blankly at me while we huddled in a small circle, sitting atop large plastic storage containers like the ones she used to store my old clothes and sentimental things from my childhood. I wondered what happened to those.

“Sure.” Mom smiled. “Can’t hurt. Do you want us to join hands?”

Eyeing the naked fisherman, I shook my head slowly. “We don’t have to.”

“What the heck. If we’re asking God to spare our lives, holding hands might be the best way to show sincerity.” He grabbed my mom’s hand and then mine.

It felt small in his strong, calloused hand. Warm. Unfamiliar. And it jumbled my thoughts. It sent my mind into rewind, replaying him smirking at me, wearing nothing but a low hanging towel.

Abs.

Veiny arms.

Rivulets of water dotting his broad chest muscles.

“Is this a silent prayer?” Fisher asked, once again startling me back to reality. He squinted one eye at me like he’d just had both closed for the prayer. “Will you at least say the Amen part out loud?”

“Dear Lord …” I jumped into prayer instead of acknowledging the awkward pause. “We pray that you watch over us and keep us safe from the storm. Amen.”

“Amen,” my mom and Fisher echoed.

“So we’re good?” Fisher winked at me while releasing my hand. “Protected?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you being sarcastic?”

“It’s the middle of the night, Reese. He’s just tired, and it’s probably coming across like he’s a little punchy.” My mom stuck up for him. That had to have meant they were together—a thing.

How did I feel about my mom being with a younger man? Well, that was a hard question to answer at the time because it had been so long since I’d not only seen my mom, but also since I’d seen my parents together.

“I’m not being punchy, Rory. I’m being a smart-ass. You can only take fifty percent of the things I say seriously, Reese. If you’re going to work for me, you’ll need to keep that in mind.”

I twisted my lips and nodded slowly. “That’s a bit vague. Kinda feels like you’re setting me up to fail. Or did my grandparents call and ask you to ensure I fail so that I’ll go crawling off to college?”

“Is … everything okay, sweetie?”

Sweetie.

I’d wondered if my mom would call me that again. It used to be the only thing she called me. It made me feel loved and special. At eighteen, sitting next to the naked fisherman in his basement, it felt a little condescending—like everyone needed to remember that I was the youngest, least experienced one in the room. That sealed the deal. I wasn’t going to call her “Mom.”

“I’m good, Rory.”

Her eyebrows slid toward the bridge of her nose as if I’d offended her in some way.

“Reese … I don’t think you are good. And I leave in less than forty-eight hours. I don’t want to go if you’re not okay here. I can do something else. I can tell my boss it’s not good timing.”

“Christ, Rory. She’ll be fine. Stop coddling her.” Fisher yawned and stretched his arms over his head. It made me feel like a twelve-year-old someone snuck into an R-rated movie. Was I old enough to see so much male skin in person? And why couldn’t I stop thinking about what it would be like to have sex with him? That was the truth. And I wasn’t happy that God could read my mind, but I also wasn’t happy that my mind kept going there without my permission.

That Christian academy made it easy to keep my virginity, but nearly impossible to keep my sanity. A focused mind. A clean mind.

Dear Lord, please forgive me for my thoughts. Please fill my mind and spirit with your love and all things that bring you glory.

“Do you feel coddled, Reese?” Rory asked.

Confused?

Sinful?

Anxious?

Yes.

“No. I don’t feel coddled.”

She eyed Fisher with a frown. “See?”

Tags: Jewel E. Ann Fisherman Romance
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