The Lost Fisherman (Fisherman #2)(38)

“Why do you think it’s him?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s not him.”

“Fuck …” He rubbed his temples with his thumb and middle finger. “I didn’t see that answer coming.”

“Why?” A twinge of frustration gripped my words, making them tight and clipped.

He chuckled. “Well, because he casually mentioned having not seen you since you agreed to marry him and broke off the engagement all within twenty-four hours.”

Well fuck. (Mandatory use of the F-word)

“I told him you were back in Denver. He said to tell you hi. So …” Another chuckle. “You were going to marry Brendon for two seconds, and he’s not the guy you were talking about? This other guy must be quite something if he’s the one you think about when you think of being in love instead of the guy you said yes to marrying.”

On a slow deflate, I whispered, “He is.”

“Is he the reason you broke up with Brendon?”

My eyes narrowed at the floor while I thought about my answer. The truth. “No. I … I only said yes to Brendon because he asked me in front of a group of people, and I didn’t want to embarrass him. The reason I didn’t marry him was because I still hadn’t done anything for myself. And I wasn’t ready for Wife and Mother to be my new titles and full-time profession, which was funny because I had been watching all these babies come into the world. And I was longing for a husband like the men holding their wives’ hands. The love. The family. I wanted it, just not yet. And I didn’t want it with Brendon. And that truly sucked because he was … I’m sure still is an amazing, kind, smart, and loving man. Just not the one for me.”

“What if I can’t live up to him? Will I be the next Brendon?”

Oh my lost fisherman …

“No. You won’t be the next Brendon because he got a parting gift, I suppose.”

“What was that?”

“My virginity.”

Fisher’s head jerked backward. “You loved someone else, but Brendon from church took your virginity?”

“Took might be a strong word. I gave it to him. Persuaded him to take it.” I curled my hair behind my ears and risked a glance up at Fisher.

“Why didn’t you give it to the guy you loved?”

Such a fantastic question, Fisher. Thanks for asking.

“He didn’t want it.”

His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “What?”

“He knew the timing wasn’t right for us. And he knew, at the time, that I had mixed emotions about my V-card. After Rory going to prison, my dad dying, and attending a Christian academy while living with my ultra-conservative grandparents … Jesus, God, and every chapter of the Bible haunted me.”

“But you wanted to have sex with him?”

The hint of a smile twitched my lips. “Yes.”

“I rescind what I told you about him. Don’t go knock on his door. He doesn’t deserve you. If he didn’t have the balls to man the fuck up when you chose him, then he didn’t deserve it or you. He choked, and that’s pretty pathetic.”

I laughed. “Yeah, well … I didn’t look at it like that. So let’s not stone him for his decision. Besides, you have some things in common with him.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Such as?”

“You weren’t going to let me go past second base.”

“Fuck. Stop. Just … no.” He shook his head. “We are never talking about that again. It was a joke. I would have hit the damn home run and you know it.”

I brushed past him, moseying down the hallway toward his bathroom. “Sure. Sure. That’s what he said.”

“He’s an idiot.”

I giggled. “Sometimes.”

Fisher peeled off his shirt and tossed it into the hamper. Then he sat on the vanity bench. I draped the towel over his legs and grabbed the trimmers. He spread his legs wide, unlike the previous time, and pulled me between them with his hands on the back of my thighs.

I laughed as the towel on his lap fell onto the floor. He didn’t care. I turned on the trimmers, and he buried his face in my chest.

“I’ve missed you,” he mumbled.

“It’s only been five days.” I ran my free hand through his hair.

“And nights.” He lifted his head. “Nights too. Don’t forget nights.”

“Because we’ve spent so many nights together?” I made my first swipe with the trimmers.

“You’re with me every night. In my dreams. You’re naked, except for my tool belt. You’re always wearing my tool belt.”

I laughed. “Sounds interesting. Am I building something?”

He frowned. “No. You’re always just teasing me.”

“Funny. In my dreams, you’re always a baby with an adult head, sucking a pacifier.”

“Not funny.” He tightened his grip on the back of my legs.

I jumped, holding the trimmer away from his face. “Careful.” I continued to trim his beard. “And it’s actually quite funny.”

He said nothing more while I finished, but I felt his eyes on me the whole time.

“Perfect. As usual.” I set the trimmers on the counter. “Well, my trim is perfect, considering what I had to work with.”