The Lost Fisherman (Fisherman 2) - Page 50

After I got dressed, Fisher greeted me at the opening of my tent with a thermos of coffee, handing it to me.

“Th—” I started to thank him, but he held a finger to his lips.

Then he smiled while ducking his head to my ear. “Happy birthday.”

With my free hand, I gripped his fleece jacket. He dragged his mouth along my cheek to my lips and kissed me, using his hands to hold my face.

I wasn’t sure if the absence of Angie was my gift or the sex in his tent the previous night … or the coffee? The kiss? Or was it the huge grin he gave me after the kiss as he nodded to the right and took my hand?

Fisher was the gift.

He took the thermos from my hand and set it by the tent before taking my hand again and pulling me toward the woods.

“Where are we going? I have to pee,” I whispered.

“On a hike. We’ll find you a rock to pee on.”

I laughed as he led us out of earshot from Rory and Rose. “Why a rock?”

“It’s the more eco-friendly place to pee. It dries. Nothing is harmed. And I know you’re an eco-friendly girl.” He glanced back and smirked.

The organic cotton tampons.

“What about Rory and Rose?” I asked.

“I don’t know what tampons they use.”

Rolling eyes, I shook my head. “I mean, what happens when they wake up and we’re gone?”

“I’m going with alien abduction. Rose is a real conspiracy theorist. And I know she believes in aliens.”

“She does?”

“Fuck. I don’t know. I’m just making shit up to entertain you. Are you entertained?” He shot me a sideways glance as I caught up to him.

I didn’t want to grin, but I did. He squeezed my hand as we made our way up the incline. I wondered if he had meaningless banter like that with Angie. And by meaningless, I meant it was everything. It meant we made each other laugh. It meant he enjoyed being with me as much as I enjoyed being with him.

And I wanted it to mean that we were meant to be together—that we would be together.

“I’m always entertained by you. And … I still need to pee. We’re passing a lot of good rocks.”

“Sorry.” He released my hand and pointed to a rock just off the trail. “That one should work.”

I glanced in both directions. There didn’t seem to be anyone close by us. “Okay.” I maneuvered my way to the rock and turned toward the trail, hands starting to unbutton my jeans and pull down my zipper. “What are you doing?”

He stood on the trail, arms crossed over his chest. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you standing there, staring at me?”

“I’m keeping a watch out for you.”

“But you’re staring at me. I’m not going to pee with you staring at me.”

“I’ve seen you naked.”

“And I’ve seen you naked, but I don’t want to watch you pee.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to watch you. I said I’m keeping a watch out for you.”

“Turn around.”

“Just hurry up.”

“I can’t hurry up! I have to remove my boots and my jeans.”

“Why are you removing your boots?”

“Because I have to remove my boots to take off my jeans.”

“Why are you taking off your jeans?”

“Because I don’t have a penis!”

And then … a middle-aged gentleman made his way down the trail, hearing me loud and clear, a tiny grin pinned to his face as he glanced over at me with my jeans unbuttoned and unzipped.

“Morning.” Fisher smiled and gave the guy a little chin nod.

I dropped my face in my hands. “Kill me now,” I whispered.

“I’ll turn around.” He chuckled.

There was most likely an art to squat-peeing without removing one’s jeans, but I wasn’t trained well in that technique. I knew my attempt would have led to my jeans being doused in urine. So yeah, I removed everything below my waist before angling myself to pee on the rock.

“Someone’s coming. Hurry up.”

“What?”

“I said someone’s—”

“I heard you.” I cut my pee off midstream.

“Then why did you say what?”

“I meant it like WHAT!”

“Like what the fuck?”

I rolled my eyes and scrambled for my panties, but they were caught in my jeans because one of the legs to my jeans was inside out.

“What are you doing?” He turned around, and I didn’t have time to care.

“My jeans are messed-up!” I stabbed my arm in the inside-out leg.

Beanie.

Thermal shirt and fleece jacket.

And socks. That was it. All I had on.

I glanced to the right. The couple coming up the hill were getting closer.

“Fisher!”

That stupid smirk slid onto his face as he took his time trekking toward me. I wadded my jeans in front of me to cover as much as possible as Fisher stood in front of me, facing the trail and angling his body to keep me as hidden as possible when the couple passed us.

Tags: Jewel E. Ann Fisherman Romance
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