I looked at him differently, knowing he wasn’t my mom’s boyfriend. I shouldn’t have, but it made him even sexier. My gaze ate up everything about him—that strong jaw with a permanent five o’clock shadow that showed his maturity, not like the young men in caps and gowns at my graduation ceremony with molestaches.
Blue eyes with thick lashes.
Messy, dirty blond hair peeking out from under his baseball cap.
Defined arms.
Just six-plus solid feet of strong man.
Who … wasn’t my mom’s boyfriend.
“Bye, sweetie. Call me. FaceTime. Text. Just … let me know how you’re doing or if you need anything.” She hugged me.
Fisher glanced around while slipping his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as if he was giving us a little bubble of privacy.
All too quickly, she released me, slung her carry-on over her shoulder, and wheeled her suitcase toward the entrance with nothing but a quick glance back and a big smile.
“Breakfast?” Fisher asked while climbing into the truck.
I hopped into the passenger’s seat and fastened my seat belt with shaky hands. It was officially just me and the naked fisherman. “It’s five. Who eats breakfast at five?”
“Well, if you’re working for me this summer, then we do.” Pulling away from the curb, he chuckled and shook his head.
I couldn’t stop staring at him. The veins in his arms that continued to his large hands loosely gripping the steering wheel. His scent—all man, but like I imagined the mountains would smell. I was well in over my head with a river of inappropriate thoughts pulling me under.
“Thought you said we were going to breakfast?” I asked Fisher as he pulled his truck into the driveway.
“We are.” He hopped out and walked into the garage.
Maybe he forgot something.
His wallet.
His phone.
I jumped as my door opened.
“This isn’t a date. But good for you for insisting a guy open the door for you. I’ll do it this one time, but my other employees can’t see me doing this for you. So pull this lever toward you then push out on the door next time.” Fisher smirked, really proud of himself for making me feel stupid.
I assumed we were leaving again. And I knew how to open a door.
Jerk.
“Thanks.” I scowled at him while sliding out of his truck. “I thought we were going to breakfast.”
“Jeez, we are. You must be starving since you can’t stop asking me about it.”
I followed him into his kitchen. “I’m not really that hungry. I’m just confused.”
“Well, this is bread.” He held up a loaf of bread. “And I put it in this little appliance that cooks it nice and brown to create something called toast.” He dropped four slices into the toaster. “After that, the sky’s the limit, baby. We can put almost anything we want on top of it. Think of it as the perfect vehicle to anywhere. I personally like going to peanut butter town with banana slices, but you can do butter, jelly, avocado, hummus, marshmallow cream … really, the options are endless.” After he set two white plates on the counter, he turned toward me and grinned.
“Why do you treat me like I’m eight instead of eighteen?” I crossed my arms over my chest and flipped out my hip.
“Because you wear this permanent deer-in-the-headlights look. I don’t know if you’re scared of me or just really confused. But since I don’t think I’m a scary person, I have to assume you’re confused. I don’t know how they do things in Texas, so I’m just walking you through my routine.”
“We have toasters in Texas. And for the record, I spent most of my life in Nebraska. It’s a neighboring state to Colorado, in case you don’t have good geography skills.”
My reaction pleased him, or at least that was the look he chose to give me. Complete amusement.
I wasn’t trying to amuse or please him.
“I’m not sure yoga pants are the best choice for work apparel. I suggest jeans for sure. Leather work boots for visiting job sites. And whatever shirt you want as long as you don’t care if it gets dirty.”
“I didn’t know I was starting work today. And I don’t have work boots. I have tennis shoes.”
“Those will work.” He grabbed the toast when it popped up and deposited two pieces onto each plate. “We’ll get you work boots later. Maybe over our lunch break.”
“Sounds …” I started to say “sexy.” Why? I didn’t know. But I quickly replaced it with something less provocative. “Fashionable.”
“Fashionable?” He glanced over his shoulder while spreading the peanut butter. “This isn’t a job where you have to worry about being fashionable. Practical and safe for the win.”
“I don’t like peanut butter.” I eyed his hand spreading it onto my toast too.
“Jesus, woman … are you even human?” He scraped the peanut butter off the bread and returned it to the jar. “There’s the fridge. Have at it. Put whatever you want on your toast.”