“Are you going to leave now?”

“Nope.” His gaze slid down my body.

My hands gripped my breasts harder as I squeezed my legs together tighter.

It was so wrong. He was so wrong.

Drawing my knees to my chest, I rocked forward and stood, lifting one leg out of the tub followed by the other, inches from Fisher. On a suffocating swallow, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. He had an unobstructed view of my naked backside. I didn’t have enough hands to cover everything.

“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.

“Why did you think that?”

Wrapping the towel around my body, I turned toward him. “Because you looked away when you first came into the bathroom.”

“That was for Teagan. A gentleman doesn’t stare at a naked woman in front of his date.”

“So you’re a gentleman for her, but not for me?”

He narrowed his eyes a second before returning a slow nod. “That’s accurate.”

Stupid fu—fudger.

“Because of my age?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re a real butt. Did you know that?”

“I know.”

“So what’s the point of all this?” I marched toward him and snatched my clothes from his hand.

“I need you to know that when you make poor decisions, men will take advantage of you.”

“You said I could use your bathtub.”

“Not drunk.”

Hugging my clothes to my chest while keeping a firm grip on the towel, I frowned. “Well, if you’re done teaching me ridiculous lessons, then I’m going to bed.” Pivoting, I shuffled my feet to the bathroom door.

“I’m not done teaching.”

I stopped, but I didn’t look back at him.

“What now?”

“You need to bring your own towel. That one’s mine. Leave it right where you’re standing.”

“You’re a perv. How do you think Rory will react when she finds out you were being so perverted with her daughter?”

“I don’t know, but make sure you start the story with the part where you stole beer from my fridge.”

Fucker!

It felt so good to scream it in my head; I just wished my body would have cooperated and screamed it to his face. He knew I’d never tell Rory about the night’s events. So he took every opportunity to embarrass me.

“I’m filing a sexual harassment complaint against my boss on Monday.”

“You do that.” He was a steel beam, an immovable boulder. Always one step ahead of me.

Chapter Eleven

I spent Saturday in shameful regret, not venturing out once.

Sunday morning I bolted to the Outback to go to church and pray … lots of prayers. And when I returned, God had answered at least one of my prayers: Fisher wasn’t outside.

Monday morning, around five-thirty, my luck ran out.