“Then tie me up and bite my ass, but don’t take it out on Brendon.”

It thrilled me that Fisher didn’t want to smile, but he couldn’t help it. “Did you just say ass?”

“It’s a donkey.”

“So you want me to tie you up then bite your donkey?”

“I thought you wanted to tie me up?” I wasn’t sure how to back my way out of the donkey comment.

“I’m open to the idea.”

Gah!

What did that mean? I would have handed over my entire inheritance for the chance to read Fisher Mann’s mind.

I tipped my chin up. “Maybe I am too.”

I wasn’t. Not at all.

First … I had some claustrophobia issues.

Second … I didn’t trust him with my body if I couldn’t control my limbs.

And third … back to the claustrophobia issues. That was a big one for me.

But I sure liked acting brave with Fisher. It was the most exhilarating feeling. Some people bungee jumped or jumped out of planes with parachutes on their backs. My adrenaline rush came from my cat and mouse game with Fisher.

“I have some work to do in my woodshop.” He removed his hands from his pockets and brushed past me to the back door.

“Will you teach me something?”

Stopping, he glanced over his shoulder. “If you can listen without distracting me.”

“How would I distract you?”

He nodded to my outfit. “Go change your clothes. I don’t want to see your bare legs. And you need a thicker bra. I can’t teach you shit when your nipples are popped out like that. And wear your work boots.”

Biting my lips to hide my grin. I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Fisher taught me how to measure and cut. Glue and screw. Properly use a hammer and level.

An hour later, Rory found us. “There you are. I was looking for you.”

I turned away from Fisher’s workbench, my safety glasses a little foggy. “He’s teaching me things, so I’ll be more useful.”

Fisher stayed focused on piecing together the drawer he’d just made. “I don’t know about useful, but a smidge less useless.”

Rory laughed. “Well, I was thinking about inviting Rose over to grill out. Fisher, do you have plans? Tiffany might come too.”

“No plans,” Fisher mumbled, ultra-focused on the joint he just glued.

I wanted to knee him in the balls. No plans? Another date?

“Reese, do you prefer chicken or steak? Or I have tofu. Rose doesn’t eat meat.”

As my gaze bored a hole in his temple, I murmured, “Doesn’t matter.”

“Okay. Does an hour give you enough time to finish up?”

Fisher didn’t give her a verbal answer, just a tiny nod.

“Cool. I’ll let you know when they’re here.”