Like I was five. What the heck?

“Your daughter carried on your collection while you were in prison. How sweet is that?” He climbed onto the stool next to me.

I ignored him.

“Really? Oh, Reese …” Tears filled her eyes.

“It’s no big deal. And I’m sure I missed plenty of items. It’s like making a few crossword puzzles after Dad died.”

“A few?” Fisher opened his big, dumb mouth. “More like an entire book full of them.”

With a tight smile, I shot him an evil glare.

Rory added a bunch of seasonings to the wok filled with veggies and chicken. “You are the sweetest girl.”

I didn’t respond with more than a small grin.

“Have you met anyone at church? Any nice boys?”

Fisher rested his elbow on the counter and his head in his hand, staring at the side of my face like he was waiting anxiously for my response—taking his “extra-ness” to a whole new level.

“I did, actually. His name is Brendon. He’s twenty-four, and he just graduated from law school. We had lunch and played pool here. We’re planning on doing something again this Sunday.” I narrowed my eyes and shot Fisher another glare—a “take that, you obnoxious jerk!”

He focused solely on my lips while wetting his.

Why did he always one-up me?

“Sweetheart, I’m so happy for you. Sounds like quite the catch. A lawyer.”

“He is quite the catch.” I kicked Fisher in the shin because he was mocking me with his overtly enthusiastic gestures while I talked to Rory.

“He’s not the best pool player,” Fisher said, pinching the hell out of my leg just above my knee.

I had to bite my lower lip to keep from yelping. “You never saw him play,” I said through gritted teeth.

“I saw him holding the pool stick. Total amateur.”

All I could think was … “Who are you?”

Really, Fisher was so so much extra. Was he jealous? Or was he just trying to pester me, poke the bear? Treat me like a child?

“I knew it.” Rory shook her head while stirring dinner. “I knew you two would end up acting like brother and sister.”

My stomach turned.

Fisher? He seemed amused.

Gross.

“Let’s eat out on the screened-in porch.” She spooned stir fry onto three plates and slid two toward us. “Grab whatever you want to drink. Fisher, if you want beer, you’ll have to get your own. I didn’t get any before I left since Reese won’t drink it …” She walked by me and bopped my nose. “Because she’s not twenty-one, and I know she’s not a drinker.”

She stepped out onto the screened-in porch, and I followed her with Fisher right behind me.

“You sure have her fooled. You drink and give a killer hand job. But we’ll keep that between us.”