The Naked Fisherman (Fisherman 1) - Page 78

“I knew I liked you.” I returned the same grin.

We stopped at an ice cream shop for sundaes and spent over two hours there talking about … everything. It was easy and refreshing.

“I talked with my boss … well, bosses at the law firm. After I take the bar, I’m going to go on a mission trip for six months. I told them I understood if they can’t hold my position, but they were really great. They said I’d have a job waiting when I returned.”

“Wow …” I sipped my second glass of water as Brendon fiddled with his spoon and empty sundae bowl. “A mission trip. Where to?”

“Thailand.”

“That’s …” I shook my head. “Great?” I laughed at my own response. “Brave? I don’t know.”

“Exciting with a dash of scary.” Brendon grinned. “I’ve done small trips to places in Central America, just through my church. But this one is through a bigger organization. It’s a bucket list thing for me. I want to feel like my life is useful beyond settling disputes among people wealthy enough to hire an attorney from a big law firm. I just …” He focused on his spoon for a few seconds. “I just want to stay grounded in my purpose. I want to always feel like I’m taking opportunities to really serve and do God’s work. You know?”

I did. And I didn’t.

Truth?

I envied Brendon’s direction in life. He was focused and driven. He wasn’t lost in his journey or stalled along the side of the road like me. I felt certain he didn’t stay awake at night worrying if the object of his affection was holding hands with someone else or kissing them.

My priorities were shameful.

“You know …” he continued. “It might be something for you to consider too. If you’re not going to college right away, and you don’t really know what direction you want to go, it might be a good way to get a direction. Focus. Perspective. And if it doesn’t give you any of that, you’ll still have done something great. Made a difference.”

Brendon would be a good attorney. He had mad skills at making a good case for things.

“Well…” I frowned “…now I feel like a loser.”

He laughed and shook his head. “No. Don’t feel like that. Not at all. You’re eighteen. You have your whole life to work, volunteer, make a difference. There’s nothing wrong with just being young and a little lost.”

“Pfft …” I rolled my eyes. “Says the guy who, I’m sure, was going on mission trips at my age.”

With a sheepish grin, he shrugged. “Only because I legit had no life beyond that. Now who’s the loser?”

I sighed. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Just … think about it. I’m not saying you have to go to Thailand with me, but I’m not saying it would be a bad thing either.” Brendon relinquished a very endearing and maybe even convincing smile.

“I guess I’d feel silly getting an expensive car if I were planning on leaving for six months.”

“Practicality wins.” He winked.

As handsome and flirty as Brendon was, I didn’t care for his winks. Only one man could wink at me and make my insides turn to gooey mush.

“Well, I’ll take you home. How would you feel about going out some night this week?”

“Um …”

He held up his hands. “No pressure.”

“No. I … it … well, you have my number. I guess text me.”

Brendon lit up with satisfaction, a glow of victory. “I’ll do that.”

He drove me home and pulled in the driveway. Fisher and my mom were on the front porch drinking iced tea … or maybe beer. I couldn’t tell for sure.

“We have an audience,” Brendon said.

“Yeah. We do.”

“I guess that means I’ll have to wait to kiss you another time.”

Gulp …

On a nervous laugh, I nodded. “I guess so. Well, thanks for the ice cream. It was fun.” I opened the door.

“Wait! I messed up when I picked you up. I’m not going to screw this up in front of your mom.” Brendon jumped out and ran around the car to open my door.

“Oh.” Another nervous laugh. “Thanks.” I climbed out of his car.

“Reese, introduce me,” Rory called.

Brendon took my hand.

He took my hand!

And we walked to the front porch. A kiss was more than he wanted to do in front of an audience, but he thought hand-holding was okay?

I died a million deaths.

After warning Fisher about Tiffany, after losing hours of sleep from thoughts of kissing or hand-holding, my hand was latched to Brendon’s right in front of Fisher.

“Hi, you must be Rory. I’m Brendon. So nice to meet you.” Brendon released my hand to shake Rory’s hand.

Fisher slowly sipped his drink, his eyes saying everything as he focused on my hand that had just been attached to Brendon’s.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Rory gushed. “Reese told me so much about you.”

Tags: Jewel E. Ann Fisherman Romance
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