The Lost Fisherman (Fisherman #2)(11)

“I will. And thanks. It does sound like the perfect opportunity, even if I’m not looking forward to moving again.”

“I know. Talk soon, sweetie.”





The phone interview with Holly went well. Perfect, in fact. Breaking my year lease wasn’t the ideal way to manage my money, but I took the loss, rented a small U-Haul trailer to pull behind my car, and drove to Denver over the course of three days and two nights.

What I didn’t expect to find was Rory, Rose, and Fisher sitting on Rory’s and Rose’s front porch when I arrived around dinnertime. My nerves did stupid things along with my heart and the butterflies in my tummy. He didn’t remember me. Why did I act like a naked student on the first day of school?

“She’s home!” Rory set her wine aside and ran toward me.

“Hi.” I hugged her when she did her attempted tackle move on me.

“How was the drive?”

I sighed, blowing my hair out of my face. “Long.”

“Hungry?”

“Starving,” I said.

“Let’s eat first then we’ll unload your stuff. I made chili and cornbread muffins.”

“Sounds amazing.” I followed her toward the porch.

“Hey, girlie girl.” Rose stood and hugged me. “So good to see you.”

“You too.”

“I’m just going to pop the muffins back in the oven for a bit to warm up.” Rory opened the front door.

“I’ll get the table set.” Rose followed her.

The door shut, then it was just us.

“Hi.” I smiled. It was difficult to approximate the proper size of a smile to give Fisher. Nothing too exuberant. Nothing too pitiful like I felt bad that he was in a cast and suffering from anxiety … maybe even on the verge of alcoholism as his favorite coping mechanism.

“Welcome home. And congratulations on your new job.”

“Thanks. I hear you’re recovering well.”

He grunted a laugh before taking a pull of his beer. “Who told you that?”

“Rory.”

“I’m recovering. Well? Not so sure about that.”

“Where’s Angie?”

“My fiancée?”

On a nervous laugh, I nodded. “Um … yeah.”

He shrugged. “Not sure. I said something to piss her off again. So she left. She’ll return. She always does.”

“Well…” I leaned against the corner pillar of the porch “…you sound like a bundle of joy. I can’t imagine why she’d leave your cheeriness.”

That brought a tiny grin to his face, and he slowly shook his head before scratching the back of his neck. “She’s fine. Really. A beautiful stranger. I was clearly a lucky man.”

“Was? You survived a pretty intense accident on your motorcycle. I’d say you’re still lucky. And you still have a fiancée. What’s the problem? Are you having erectile dysfunction issues? It’s not uncommon after accidents.”

He choked on his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What the fuck? No. Why would you ask me that?”

I took his beer and helped myself to a long swig. A little mixing of saliva.

He raised a single eyebrow.

Yeah, Fisher … I’m not the deer-in-the-headlights girl you don’t remember. I swap saliva. Drink beer. And have sex. Sometimes I even touch myself because it feels “good.”

“I’m a nurse. It’s strictly a medical question. It can be hard on relationships when accidents impair sexual function. And sometimes it’s not a physical disability as much as it’s an emotional issue.”

“My dick works just fine.”

“Maybe you should do something that takes your mind off your situation.”

“What’s my situation?” He grabbed the beer bottle back from me and frowned when he noticed it was empty.

“Your arm is still in a cast. I’m sure your family is still coddling you. And you’re living with a stranger who wants you to get fitted for a tux so she can take your name and have your babies.”

His lips twisted. After a few seconds, he nodded several times. “That’s not entirely inaccurate. So what distraction do you suggest?”

“I could give you some of my crossword puzzles to work on.”

There it was again. That look. The one I missed as a nervous eighteen-year-old girl with an insane crush on the naked fisherman. The one I didn’t miss when we took dinner to his house after he came home from the hospital and I told him about my hobby.

“Why do you keep mentioning puzzles? I’m not sure I even like crossword puzzles.”

“No?” I did his signature head cock. “Huh … I thought I felt a vibe. Must not have.”

“A crossword puzzle vibe?”

“Something like that.” My lips pressed together to conceal my grin.

“Dinner’s ready,” Rory said as she opened the door.

Fisher’s gaze stayed glued to me, just where I liked it. Where it belonged.

“Need help standing?” I pushed off the pillar and held out my hand.

Shaking his head, he leaned forward and stood on his own while mumbling, “I don’t need help getting anything up.”