The Naked Fisherman
by Jewel E. Ann
Self-Published
Book 2 in Fisherman Duet
It's official.
I'm eighteen and a young woman with endless possibilities on my way to reunite with my mom in Colorado after five years apart—she had a little weed incident in Nebraska.
At the airport, she springs the news on me ... she's leaving for a month of job training. And me? I'm left on my own in the basement she's renting from the fisherman, aka her landlord who lives upstairs.
He's ten years older than me. Never wears a shirt. And makes it hard to remember all the things I learned at Christian Academy.
Did I mention he’s also my new boss?
Genre
Triggers
Age Gap, Raised in a highly religious atmosphere, Absent parent due to being in prison
From what I hear, the Fisherman duology is a very well liked series from Jewel E. Ann. So I was surprised that I didn't love it as much as others do.
Don't get me wrong, I really liked it.
I just didn't love it as much as Jewel's other work.
I really think it comes down to Reese, our main character, and my inability to connect with her.
Being raised in a strict Christian atmosphere, in an obviously homophobic community, it was hard to get past her inner monologues at times - even when she is questioning it what she has been taught.
I get it's the point. Reese, becoming an adult and moving away from her grandparents and strict upbringing, is the beginning of her characters arc of finding herself. Learning about the world, and other people, and ideologies.
I get it, and I absolutely love that she eventually finds her way.
It's just so hard to get through her moments of cringy behavior and thoughts.
Now Fisher - he was great. He was the typical sexy male lead we all want in a romance, but his open-minded personality, his raw honestly, and his dry, sarcastic sense of humor was what really had me salivating over his character. Which is one of the reasons I didn't love this book, believe it or not.
I just couldn't understand what it was about Reese that drew Fisher in. Frankly, he doesn't know why he is so drawn to her either. Which made it hard for me to truly believe the chemistry the Jewel usually has no problem injecting into her stories.
In the next book - I felt it.
This one ... meh. Not so much. Not until the last third of the book, honestly.
It sounds like I'm really dumping on this book. I promise I'm not.
I did really like it, I promise.
The story, the romance, the tentative bond between Reese and her mother, it all comes together in a really interesting way.
It's just hard to connect with Reese when you are almost 20 years older than her character, and atheist.
If you can work past this, and get to read the second book in the duology, the overall story is unique, romantic, and sexy, and everything great that Jewel E. Ann puts in her work.
Reese: “What?”
I looked down at my jeans, gray tee, and white tennis shoes as Fisher leaned against the back of his truck with one foot propped up behind him on the bumper, eyes taking way too much liberty with inspecting me.
Fisher: “Approximately seventy percent of my young male crew will try to get into your pants. I’ll do my best to keep them from humping your legs and licking your face, but I just want you to remember that they went to public school and lost their virginity before they could legally drive a car.”
Reese: “Yes, Boss.”
He glanced over at me, one eyebrow peaked.
Fisher: “Boss, huh?”
Reese: “That’s what Hailey calls you. Bossman.”
Fisher: “I’m not sure she means it with any sort of respect.”
Reese: “I’m not sure I’m saying it with any respect either.”
Reese: “Did I do something wrong?”
I asked, scurrying to catch up to him.
Fisher: “Nope. We just have a busy afternoon.”
Reese: “And I didn’t wear socks.”
Fisher: “And you didn’t wear socks,”
he echoed me, setting the box and the hard hat on the register counter.
Reese: “Are you going to fire me?”
The employee on the other side of the counter eyed us cautiously.
Fisher: “Not until we get to the truck.”
He tapped his credit card to the machine and slipped it back in his wallet. The employee’s eyes widened, focusing mainly on me.
Reese: “Do I have to reimburse you for the boots and hat if you fire me?”
Fisher: “Yes.”
He grabbed the box before she could put it in a bag, then shoved the hat on my head, a little crooked.
Fisher: “Let’s go.”
Reese: “That … all of that back there … it was part of the fifty percent that I should ignore. Right?”
Fisher: “You’re on the clock. Never ignore me when you’re on the clock.”
Reese: “So I can ignore you when I clock out?”
Fisher: “You can do whatever you want to me when you clock out.”
Gah!
Reese: “Long arms? I don’t have long arms.”
I threaded my arms through the jacket while he held it up for me. As he zipped the jacket, I tugged on the cuffs of the sleeves.
Fisher smirked. Yes, the sleeves were a little short.
Fisher: “It’s okay. Your legs are long too. And guys will overlook your octopus arms because you have legs for days.”
Reese: “I bet this means nothing to you.”
Fisher: “The view?”
Of course the view. What did he think I meant? Tossing him a quick sideways glance, I nodded.
Reese: “Yeah, the view.”
Fisher: “I think there are some things that are meant to provide a lifetime of awe. The mountains. The oceans. Rainbows. Shooting stars. First kisses.”
Fisher: “You deserve to have your breath taken away … every day.”
Those. Those ten words. They wrapped around my heart like sticky peanut butter and jelly fingers. Pure. Innocent. Unforgettable. Perfect.
Fisher: “Well, if you decide to bring someone home from Bible study, I won’t tell your mom. And the house is insulated really well, so don’t ever worry about me hearing anything.”
Oh my gosh … I bit my tongue so hard. What he implied was offensive and yes … crude. As if I was going to pick up some guy at Bible study and bring him back to have sex. Clearly, Fisher had never attended church, which meant he probably wasn’t saved. And I needed to remember that. I needed to remember all the reasons I shouldn’t have obsessed over the naked fisherman.
Reese: “So I won’t hear you either.”
I felt incredibly brave saying that to him. For a breath, I tried to feel like an equal. An adult who dated and had loud sex. But inside it really … really bothered me to think of him having sex with someone else. Or me, of course. But mostly someone else.
Fisher: “I’m not really a screamer. I may drop a few profanities if it’s worthy of it.”
Reese: “I thought you were a gentleman,”
I mumbled, making the walk of shame to the stack of drawers and hunching down instead of bending over to retrieve a towel.
Fisher: “Why did you think that?”
Wrapping the towel around my body, I turned toward him.
Reese: “Because you looked away when you first came into the bathroom.”
Fisher: “That was for Teagan. A gentleman doesn’t stare at a naked woman in front of his date.”
Reese: “So you’re a gentleman for her, but not for me?”
He narrowed his eyes a second before returning a slow nod.
Fisher: “That’s accurate.”
Stupid fu—fudger.
Reese: “Because of my age?”
Fisher: “Maybe.”
Reese: “You’re a real butt. Did you know that?”
Fisher: “I know.”
Reese: “You can’t have my virginity,”
I whispered. It took him a few more breaths to respond. And when he did, it blew my mind.
Fisher: “What can I have?”
he whispered back.
Reese: “A-are you g-going to kiss me?”
His lips pulled into a hint of amusement.
Fisher: “I was thinking about it.”
Fisher’s patience killed me, completely slayed me. It was as if he had to solve the world’s problems in his head before he kissed me. But I didn’t want to be a problem of the world. I wanted to be the girl—the woman—he kissed on a Monday night for no good reason. Not everything in life needed an explanation. Couldn’t we steal a few seconds, a kiss, without accountability?
Reese: “Will you be done thinking about it anytime soo—”
Fisher kissed me.
Maybe connecting with someone didn’t have boundaries or timelines. I liked the idea of him feeling as drawn to me as I felt to him. It made me feel like we were equals in this, whatever this was.
Reese: “So?”
I whispered, my gaze sliding along his face from his eyes to his full lips so close to mine.
Reese: “Are you going to kiss me?”
Wetting those full lips, he lifted his right shoulder into a half shrug.
Fisher: “I was thinking about it.”
My foolish grin showed all my teeth.
Reese: “Don’t think.”
Fisher lifted his other hand and cupped my face, ghosting his thumb along my cheek.
Fisher: “I never do when I’m with you.”
Fisher: “Now, if you don’t get out of my truck,”
he said releasing my lips,
Reese: “I’m going to want more.”
I giggled, kissing along his cheek as his hand moved from my waist to my butt.
Fisher: “Like that book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, have you read it?”
I nodded, relishing the feel of his scruffy face against my lips.
Reese: “Fisher,”
I whispered at his ear, feeling brave enough to tease his earlobe like he had teased mine with his teeth,
Reese: “are you saying you want my cookie?”
He laughed, threading fingers through my wet hair and bringing my lips back to his.
Fisher: “Your cookie.”
Kiss.
Fisher: “Your muffins.”
Kiss. I giggled against his mouth.
Fisher: “I’m going to want the whole fucking bakery.”
Kiss. I wanted his crude and dirty mouth. The kisses … I wanted all of his kisses. His laughter. And the way he looked at me like I was the bane of his existence in the most beautiful way.
Reese: “Well…”
I stepped down, rubbing my lips together to relish the taste of toothpaste, coffee, and the naked fisherman
Reese: “…you have work. And the bakery is closed.”
Fisher: “Killjoy.”
He adjusted himself. Again, it made my grin double.
Even if Fisher didn’t share the same emotions, I knew he would always be my first love—that really good kind of love where my brain had no say. The kind with no logical explanation. The kind that took a special place in my heart as first.
Fisher left one hand on my ass and lifted his other hand to the back of my head, stroking my hair several times.
Fisher: “Nine across. Six letters. The first one is ‘S’ and the fourth one is ‘W.’ Hint: It’s something I still need.”
I laughed, nodding without lifting my head from his neck.
Reese: “Are you trying to speak my language? It’s kinda sexy.”
Lifting my head, I kissed his jaw.
Reese: “Yes. You can shower now.”
Fisher: “Think you can keep your hands off me for one night?”
Reese: “Depends … will you wear a shirt?”
Fisher: “Yes.”
He grinned.
Reese: “Then I’ll be fine.”
Taking a step back, I slipped my hands into the front pockets of my shorts.
Fisher: “Is this solely about my body?”
He narrowed one eye.
Reese: “Of course. Your personality is just okay, and as a boss, you’re kind of grumpy.”
Fisher: “Damnation is in your future, little girl.”
He pulled up his underwear and jeans before sauntering to the kitchen to grab some paper towels.
Reese: “Then you’re going with me.”
Reese: “Fisher?”
He waited a second to respond, but when his gaze fell to my lips, I knew I had him.
Fisher: “What?”
Reese: “Are you going to kiss me?”
Fisher: “I was thinking about it.”
Reese: “Don’t think.”
Reese: “Why me? And I don’t mean it like I have no sense of self-esteem. It’s not that. I’m not ugly. I’m not stupid. I’m fun. I have a decent list of quality traits. But you’re not ugly either. Or stupid. And you can be fun. But you’re also ten years older than me. With so many options. I just don’t get it. Was I a game? A toy? Were you bored? I know I’ve asked you this before, but I just don’t get it. Why engage with an eighteen-year-old who has no solid direction in her life yet, can’t drink legally, and who’s a virgin. I just don’t get it.”
He let my words settle, dissipate, and vanish, replaced with silence.
Fisher: “What did you like about the mountains?”
I shrugged.
Reese: “What didn’t I like? The air. The tranquility. The vastness. Just … I don’t know. When we stopped at that overlook, I just liked how I felt. There. In the moment. It’s hard to describe.”
Fisher: “Because you can’t.”
Reese: “Maybe.”
I tried to think of the right words, but they fell short.
Fisher: “Well, neither can I.”
Fisher: "In this life, we don't owe anyone anything. No explanation. Feelings are the most personal part of who we are. You’re not accountable for your feelings any more than you’re accountable for the amount of oxygen you consume. Think for yourself. And don’t ever let anyone tell you how to feel.”
Fisher: "When your feelings align with your thoughts, then you’re thinking for your fucking self."
Reese: “I’m leaving.”
I stood and grabbed my backpack. He nodded twice.
Fisher: “I’m watching you leave.”
When I reached the door, I turned my head, restraining my grin for a few seconds.
Reese: “But is it as good as watching me come?”
Fisher smiled like blowing up a balloon, one centimeter at a time.
Fisher: “Speechless.”
His booted feet planted right in front of me as he rested one hand on a hip and tipped his chin toward his chest. Another sigh.
Reese: “Apologize,”
Ever so slowly, he lifted his gaze to me, a tiny grin quirking one side of his mouth.
Fisher: “For?”
Reese: “Exactly. I’m glad we agree that you have so much to apologize for.”
Fisher: “The muffin?”
I nodded.
Fisher: “I got you a new one.”
Reese: “But you didn’t apologize.”
Fisher: “Actions speak louder than words. I. Got. You. A. New. One.”
Reese: “And last night? Your obnoxiousness? You agreeing to go on a date like … ten minutes after sticking your tongue down my throat? Making unnecessary jabs at Brendon, whom you’ve met once, for two seconds. What about that?”
Twisting his lips to the side, he narrowed his eyes.
Fisher: “Do you want a verbal apology? Or do you want a physical one?”
I wasn’t sure where he was going with that offering? A physical one?
Fisher: “I’m not giving you both. So … choose carefully.”
Reese: “Define physical.”
Fisher: “It’s something I do, instead of something I say.”
Reese: “What would you do?”
Fisher: “I’m not telling you. Just choose.”
Reese: “Fisher?”
I whispered. He seemed mesmerized with my lips—his thumb ghosting along them, eyes drifting from mine to his thumb.
Reese: “Are you going to kiss me?”
The hint of a grin moved his mouth.
Fisher: “I was thinking about it.”
My hand curled around his wrist, pulling his hand from my mouth as I leaned in a few inches and grinned while my lips brushed along his.
Reese: “You think too much.”
Fisher: “Loving you is my favorite thing to do. It’s automatic and effortless.
Did I have an unnatural fear of failure? Yes. Success felt like a myth. Happiness … an unreachable destination.
And love … well, it was something blurry and always changing forms in my life. I chased love.
Love for my father.
Love for God.
Love for Rory.
But it always felt just out of reach. Until Fisher. With him, I touched love. I held it in my hands, like reaching the end of a rainbow or lassoing the moon.
Reese: “Well, I’m not sorry. Not for any of it. You know it’s…”
I shook my head
Reese: “…ironic. Adults, real adults, like to lecture young adults like me. They like to paint this picture of hopes and dreams, endless possibilities, and constantly remind us that we can do anything, be anything. But that’s a lie. Because all I wanted was to live a day at a time and figure things out one moment at a time. That’s all I wanted to do. And all I wanted to be was yours.”
After a quick shrug, I rolled my eyes toward the sky to ward off the tears.
Reese: “I don’t want your apologies or your help because they don’t get me you.”
He said nothing. Not a word. Not a single muscle in his body moved. Defeat personified.
Reese: “I’m going to fall in love. And some guy will be lucky to have me. He’ll love me for me. And he won’t care where I’ve been or where I’m going. He’ll just feel so fucking lucky to be the one who kisses me goodnight and wakes up in the morning with me in his arms. He won’t be burdened by my virginity or aggravated that I don’t wear socks with my sneakers. He will be a better man for having found me, and I will be a better woman for having found him. I know they say love is patient, but it’s not. Love is the brightest star in the sky. It doesn’t have an off switch or a timer. It doesn’t wear a watch or look at a calendar. It’s why we’re here. It’s the only true reason for our existence.”
It was him. He was the someday guy.
The kiss goodnight. It was him.
Waking in the morning in his arms.
It felt like I would forever carry a Fisher-shaped mold around with me, trying to shove other men into a place they would never fit.
The wrong key.
The wrong piece to a puzzle.
I was destined to settle and that sucked.
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