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.

“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.

“I’m not really a screamer. I may drop a few profanities if it’s worthy of it.”

Stop! Make him stop!

He enjoyed playing with me. I could tell from the smirk he wore like a favorite T-shirt. He ate my reactions up like a shark finding a wounded otter. Fisher knew I was way out of my comfort zone. And his favorite game seemed to be pushing me a few more inches with every remark. I refused to give him the verbal satisfaction, even if my feelings were on full display in the color of my face or the uncontrolled fidgeting of my hands.

“It won’t matter. I’ll probably be late anyway. Someone mentioned getting ice cream afterward.” It sounded ridiculous the second I said it.

Biting his lips to mask more of his amusement, he nodded several times. “I can see that. Well, you have my number if things get too crazy and you need a ride home. Gut ache. Sugar jitters. Brain freeze. Whatever.”

“Jerk.” I couldn’t help it. He brought out the worst in me, the crazy in me.

Fisher sniggered as he pulled to a stop at the first job site. The framers were already busy constructing the interior walls in the basement.

“Am I allowed out?” I asked.

Fisher grabbed my hard hat out of the back seat and plopped it on my head. “If you can stay out of trouble and not distract my crew with stories about wild ice cream socials.”

Had I used swear words, I would have told him to fuck off, and it would have felt so liberating. But I remained silent because I knew those other words would feel foreign leaving my lips.

“Cat got your tongue?” Fisher grinned as I fumed.

I climbed out and mumbled to myself, “No. Jesus does.”

WWJD?

Fisher walked around the perimeter looking at things. What? I had no clue. I assumed he knew what he was doing. I followed a few feet behind him.

“Plumber been here?” he asked one of the guys carrying a stack of two-by-fours on his shoulder and depositing it in the middle of the basement.