The Lost Fisherman (Fisherman #2)(44)

James Bay’s “Wild Love.”

ZAYN’s “It’s You.”

HRVY’s “Me Because of You.”

Song after song.

I sang them all. All the lyrics. Serenading my lost fisherman.

By the time we pulled into the campsite, I was only a few verses into “Natural” by The Driver Era.

Fisher jumped out much faster than I did. He pulled the tents out of the back of his truck. “Do you know how to put up a tent?”

“I think so.”

“Great. Get moving.” He tossed one of the tents at my feet.

I laughed. “Okay.”

He finished putting up the two bigger tents by the time I had the smaller tent assembled.

With my hands on my hips, I stared at the small tent and frowned. “This is mine, isn’t it? Big tents for the couples. And birthday girl gets the smaller tent with nothing but a sleeping bag to keep me warm at a night.”

Fisher didn’t seem interested in my pity party for one. He unloaded a cooler, sleeping bags, his backpack and mine.

And I just stared at the small tent. Was he going to keep Angie warm? Probably. Why wouldn’t he have?

“What the fuck are you doing?” He stepped in front of me, blocking the view of my tent and bending down so his face was level with mine.

“Just thinking about how things could have gone,” I said in a monotone voice.

“That’s what I figured. When are you going to start trusting me?”

I lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. I trust you … just not your memory.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward one of the bigger tents, squatting down to untie my shoes for me before unzipping the door. “But I remember what you felt like and what you tasted like. That’s all the memory I need. So get your ass in the tent.”

Still feeling too pouty for a nearly twenty-four-year-old, I stepped into the tent and moved to the middle of it where I could stand up. He already had two open sleeping bags and extra blankets and pillows spread over a big pad. Why was I so bothered by a small tent? Why was I so bothered by “what if” should Angie have come too? It was stupid. A big what-if that did not matter at all. I guess we all had triggers. Who knew a tent would be mine?

I jumped when Fisher’s hands landed on my hips, but he wasn’t standing behind me; he was kneeling, his lips finding their way under my fleece jacket and my shirt to the skin along my lower back.

Tiny kisses.

Hands sliding to the button of my jeans.

Unbutton … unzip …

I closed my eyes, trying to shake off the negativity. Fisher peeled my jeans down my legs.

So … very … slowly.

As his hands took charge of my jeans, his teeth took care of my panties. And that did it …

Fisher removing my panties with his teeth was the most erotic thing ever.

Really. Ever!

Angie? Angie who?

Little tent? What little tent?

I let Fisher undress me and do all the things. He kissed me in places only he could kiss me and make it feel sexy, make me feel beautiful and desired. When he touched me, it didn’t feel like my body. It felt like an extension of him, and I just got to experience him giving me a thorough tour of it.

Every touch was a silent whisper, all the things he said to me by showing me.

This is how I make you moan.

This is how I steal your breath.

This is how I make you beg.

This is where you make me feel like a god.

Because I don’t remember you, but I know you.

I. Know. You.

Nestled between two open sleeping bags, we made love, we made noise …. and we made new memories.





Chapter Nineteen





“What did you say to make Angie stay?” I asked while piecing myself back together. There was no time left for cuddling. Rory and Rose would be there soon.

“I said that my therapist wanted to make sure I was setting aside time to think, time to be alone, but not just at work. Since she had a headache, I suggested this weekend be that time.” He zipped his jeans, still on his back so that I could have the tallest part of the tent.

Yeah … he loved me.

“I said you, Rory, and Rose would probably do some things without me. Or maybe not want to take the same hikes I take, so I’d have time to be alone with my thoughts. And she agreed.” He sat up and pulled on his thermal waffle shirt and his beanie.

“And you did it for me?”

Staring at me in silence for several seconds, he nodded. “Yes. For you.” Then a tiny smirk hijacked his serious expression. “I mean … I might have done it a little bit for me too.”

“Yeah?” I trapped my lower lip between my teeth.

“Don’t give me that look.” He shook his head and crawled toward the door to the tent. “It will lead to things, and we are out of time. They’ll be here soon. And I need to get a fire made.”

I giggled, following him out of the tent with my pillow, backpack, and a sleeping bag and extra blanket. After tossing everything into the smaller tent, I helped Fisher make a fire and set up the camping chairs around it. Shortly after we started roasting hot dogs, Rory and Rose arrived.

“I texted Angie to make sure you had everything and that we didn’t need to stop on our way out of town, and she said she wasn’t coming. Why didn’t you tell us?” Rory asked Fisher.