by Amy Olle
Pleasure pinkened her cheeks. “A practice date?”
“Might be fun.”
She arched one dark eyebrow at him. “Might be as disastrous as our other dates.”
“All three of them were disasters?”
“Well, no.” The color on her cheeks deepened. “Our second date was quite nice, actually.”
“Quite nice?” He cringed. “You gotta give me chance to redeem myself.”
Her light, lyrical laughter was contagious and his own smile lingered when they arrived downstairs.
The dinner rush had ended and a boisterous Saturday night crowd packed the bar. Then he heard it. The whispers. He glanced around the dining room at the curious gazes fastened boldly on them. They didn’t even try to hide their prying.
Damn small towns.
He reached for her hand, drawing her close. “You okay?” he asked, his mouth near her temple.
Beneath her caramel complexion, she’d paled, but she nodded and clasped his hand tight.
“Because if it bothers you, we can leave.”
When she glanced up at him, mischief glinted in her eyes. “Or we could give them something to talk about.”
His large hand touched her face and he leaned close, but before he claimed his wife’s soft mouth, movement from the corner of his eye stopped him.
Heather drew up when she spotted him.
“Hey, Boss.” Her gaze bounced from him to Isobel and back again. “I was beginning to wonder if we should file a missing person’s report.”
Reluctantly, Shea straightened away from Isobel. “Miss me?”
“Not even a little,” Heather said brightly.
He laid a hand over his still-thundering heart. “Ouch.”
Her full-throated laugh rang out. “What I meant is you’ve trained us well and we’re a finely tuned machine. I even finished payroll. You wanna sign it while you’re here?”
“Not right now.” He glanced at Isobel, who watched him with soft gray eyes. “I’m on a practice date with my wife.”
Through her smile, Heather’s brow furrowed. “What’s a practice date?”
“Never mind.”
“Hi, Iz.” Heather’s smile warmed. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too.” Isobel touched his arm. “Go sign payroll. I don’t mind.”
“What are the rules to this dating thing? I’m not supposed to work, am I?”
“I’ll time you. You have five minutes starting—” She swiped a finger across her cell phone’s screen. “—now.”
In his office, Heather’s payroll report lay on his desk and he glanced over the information. He made sure Heather had enough hours to support her and her young son, but not so many that she couldn’t ever be home with him, and that everyone else had a good ratio of hours to days off.
When he reached the bottom of the page, he frowned. Then he started again at the top and worked his way back down the list.
His frown deepened. The entire staff was accounted for, all except Aiden.
He found Heather mixing a drink behind the bar. “Where’s Aiden?”
She jerked her head over her shoulder. “Over there talking to Isobel.”
He held up the payroll report. “No, I mean why isn’t he on the payroll? Shouldn’t he have made it into this week’s check run?”
She stuck a paper umbrella into the fruity concoction. “He hasn’t completed his paperwork yet. I told him he needs to bring me a copy of his social security card before I can pay him. I’ll remind him again.”
Shea signed the report and left it on his desk for Heather to process, then returned to the restaurant where Isobel had snagged them a booth along the far wall.
He wound his way across the room to her.
Midway to sitting, he froze. “What’s wrong?”
“There you are.” The recognizable female voice grated along his spine and explained the stricken look on Isobel’s face. “Where have you been hiding?”
The wave of dread knocked him the rest of the way to sitting.
Amber Jessop, a black hole of toxicity and the one woman who could destroy all the progress he’d made with his wife, sidled up to their table.
He stopped her with a look. “This isn’t a good time, Amber.”
Placing a hand on her hip, she planted her breasts in his face. “You’ll never guess who finally made partner.”
“I don’t care.”
Shrewd dark eyes narrowed at him. “Of course you do. It’s obvious you miss the mental challenge of law. Your mind needs the stimulation.” She cast a side-eyed glance at Isobel. “You know what they say about the brain being the largest erogenous zone in the body.”
“You haven’t seen my other erogenous zone.”
“Is that an invitation?”
“No,” he snapped, his patience running out.
“Oh my.” She leaned close to rub his shoulders. “So tense and grumpy.”
Shea’s voice shook with the effort not to reach out and strangle her when he warned, “Do not touch me.”
With a nervous laugh that lacked humor, Amber removed her hands from his body. “Fine, you tease.”
He rolled his shoulders, as if to shake off the contamination from her unwanted caress. “Now if you’ll excuse us, my wife and I are trying to have dinner.”
Amber’s mouth turned down with an insincere pout. “I heard about the divorce. I know how much you both must be hurting.”
“We’re not divorced,” Isobel declared with a strength in her voice that would’ve thrilled him, but for the unspoken “yet” she left hanging at the end of her pronouncement.
Amber ignored Isobel and focused her calculating gaze on him instead. “Let me know if you want to talk. When the divorce is final, of course. We can… talk. All night long.”
Laughter burst from Isobel. “Wow. Amber, that was… incredible. You didn’t sound desperate at all. A touch creepy, but overall a great performance. Honestly, well done.”
A priceless scowl contorted Amber’s features.
Isobel waggled her fingers. “Now shoo. My husband needs to eat so he has enough energy later tonight.”
The seductive once-over she gave him then made his cock jump. But the triumph of Amber’s hasty retreat was short-lived.
In the wake of her departure, a heavy, awkward silence settled over the table.
“You okay?”
Isobel’s dark head bobbed.
In his chest, a hard knot squeezed. “Do you want to go?”
She shook her head.
“Look, don’t let her get to you. That’s what she wants. Don’t give her the satisfaction.”
Huge round eyes twisted his insides. “You and she haven’t… been together?”
He reared back. “What? Jesus, no. Of course not.”
She pretended great interest in the menu. The menu she’d created. “It’s been two years. I don’t expect that you’ve remained celibate.”
Furious grief slashed through him. “Are you serious right now?”
It wasn’t the first time she’d accused him of infidelity. She’d done so exactly once before.
The day he’d moved out.
“Are you having an affair?”
He stilled, frozen like a marble statue while a fire raged through him.
“How could you ask me that?” The words snapped like the crack of a whip. “How could you even think it?”
He moved deeper into their bedroom.
She stumbled back. “You lied to me about your job. What else are you lying to me about?”
A flicker of shame prickled across his face and neck, but his white-hot fury pushed out all else. “I didn’t want you to worry. You needed to focus on your health. On the baby—”
“You should have told me!”
“I’ve given you my life,” he seethed. “Every all-nighter and eighty-hour work week was for you. All the months I lived on that fucking freighter were for you. I gave up everything for you. So we coul
d build this house. So you would be happy.”
So I would be worthy of you.
“I didn’t want that.” Tears ran in rivulets down her pale face. “I never asked you for any of it.”
“Then what do you want?” The words erupted from him as a desperate cry. “What could I have possibly given you that would have made you happy?”
“I never asked you for any of those things. Now you blame me as if I did? That isn’t fair, Shea.”
“You just accused me of cheating on you. Don’t you dare talk to me about fair.”
A sob shook her shoulders. “If you’re so miserable, why don’t you leave? Just go.”
So he did.
He blinked until the nightmare dissolved.
With a defeated sigh, she abandoned the menu. “I don’t know if I’m serious. I’m tired and—”
“What do we have here?” A female voice drew near. “Why if it isn’t my two new favorite people.”
Shea struggled to gain his feet on shifting ground as he looked up to find Vanessa swooping down on their table, a wineglass posed between her manicured fingers.
Isobel’s spine snapped straight. “Vanessa, hi.”
“Did Jen call you?” Vanessa wanted to know. “Are you all set for your interview? How about Marcus? When’s he coming for the photoshoot?”
Isobel swallowed thickly. “Later this week.”
“Fantastic. I’m so excited for you.” While Vanessa sipped from her wineglass, her gaze shifted between them. She swallowed and struck a deceptively casual posture. “So, you two doing okay? Everything good?”
“Great. Everything’s great. We’re great. Aren’t we, Sweetie?” Isobel’s stiff smile and stilted words dragged a grunt from him.
“Great,” he muttered.
At least, things were great, up until the point when all their baggage had suddenly come hurtling back at them. All it took was one random encounter and the past hurts and injustices had risen up to stab and pierce the tentative bond they’d managed to forge.
Anger gnawed at him. Never in her life had she called him Sweetie.
“We’re celebrating our wedding anniversary,” Isobel blurted.
Vanessa cut off the healthy swig of wine she’d just taken. “No way. How many years?”
He captured his wife’s gaze and held it. “Eighteen.”
Vanessa gasped and laid a hand over her heart. “Eighteen years. The porcelain year.”
Porcelain. Like a toilet. Seemed fitting.
“Well, I won’t keep you. Darling, it’s been a treat meeting you.” Vanessa tossed a couple of air kisses at Isobel and then gave Shea a wink. “You, too, handsome. You kids have fun tonight.”
Vanessa drifted away and when she was out of earshot, Isobel mumbled, “Can we just go?”
Relief washed over him and he followed her to the exit. In his truck, the tension was stifling and the moment they reached safety inside the house, Isobel careened toward the hall.
“Aren’t we going to talk about this?” he said to her retreating back.
She barely broke stride. “There’s nothing to say.”
“Who’s the one walking away now?”
Predictably, she whirled on him. “Fine. What do you want to talk about, Shea?”
“You’re upset. Why?”
“I’m not upset. I’m tired.” To mask the lie, she gave him her back and fled.
He pursued her to their bedroom, enjoying the flash of her anger when he stepped inside the room and eased the door closed behind him. It was better than the stony-faced look of helplessness she’d worn all the way home, as if their relationship was too far gone to save and she’d given up on them.
She folded her arms over her stomach, shielding herself. “Why don’t you go find Amber? It’d be so easy for you to be with her.”
His jaw clenched so tightly he feared he might grind his molars to dust. “I don’t want Amber,” he bit out. “I want you.”
“Now,” she sniped. “But what about later?”
Frustrated fury lashed at him. “What do you want me to say? Whatever it is, I’ll say it.”
“Tell me why.” Her voice shattered with her sob. “Why did you leave me?”
“Why did you let me go?” The words erupted from his bleeding heart.
“Was it because of her? Did you leave me to be with her?”
“No.” He took a step toward her.
She stumbled back. “Then why?”
“Because you told me to.” The excuse was empty. Hollow. “And I was wrong.”
He shoved a hand into his hair and tugged at the ends.
Just then, as he watched, her expression changed, and his hand stilled.
She blinked at him with wide, unfathomable eyes. “I was testing you.”
Slowly, his hand dropped to his side. “What did you say?”
“It’s true. It was a test. To see if you were like my dad.” Her features twisted with agony. “You failed.”
“I want a do-over.”
She scoffed. “That’s not how it works.”
“Why not?” His jaw ticked with his building rage. “You made up the game. You can change the rules.”
“Even if I hadn’t told you to leave, you would’ve left me anyway.” Bitterness infected her tone. “You were miserable.”
A nasty curse escaped him and he balled his hands into tight fists. He wanted shake her to make her stop saying such awful things. Or punch a hole in the wall. Instead, he stared hard into her small pale face.
Above the defiant set of her mouth, terror swirled in her eyes.
She was testing him again now. No matter what he said, she’d throw it back at him. She’d push him until he said something he’d regret. Something that would hurt beyond the moment. She wanted him to prove himself to her, and by God, she wasn’t going to make it easy on him.
He’d seen it before. She wanted a fight, and she was purposefully antagonizing him to get it. The way Leo used to do. The same way she did the day he left.
This time he wouldn’t give her what she wanted. The storm wasn’t inside him this time. It was inside her.
The fight left his body in a rush.
“I wasn’t unhappy with you. Or the kids,” he said quietly. “I wish you’d given me a chance to explain that, but honestly, I’m not sure I could have. Not then.”
He rested his hand on the doorknob.
“Wait. You’re leaving?” Panic shredded her voice, but she quickly recovered with a cool glare. “I knew you would.”
He reached her in two strides. Slipping his hand under her chin, he gently brought her eyes to his. “I am not leaving you. I’m not even leaving the house. But it’s late and we’re both upset, so I’m going to sleep on the couch downstairs, and in the morning, I’ll be here waiting for you.”
She jerked her chin from his grasp. “Don’t bother.”
He gripped her nape and tugged her to him. Covering her mouth with his, he swallowed her protests. Captured by his hand, she didn’t move he soothed her with his tongue and wiped the wetness from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb.
When he lifted his head, she gazed up at him, her eyes darkened with her dilated pupils.
“You haven’t been able to run me off yet, mo chroí. What makes you think you can do so now?”
Her lips moved wordlessly as she appeared to grapple for an answer and finding none that suited her.
“The fact is, you won’t win this fight.” His gaze latched onto her mouth and he scraped his thumb across her succulent bottom lip.
She tilted her chin, offering herself up to him.
Because he couldn’t resist her, he took one light little taste of her, then pulled back.
His mouth hovering above hers, he murmured, “Sleep tight, my sweet wife. In the morning, I’ll be here, and there’s nothing you can say or do to stop me.”
Then he left her standing at their bedroom door, flustered and yearning for his kiss.
Chapter Eighteen
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br /> An enormous choking knot sat on Isobel’s chest when she left the store. After putting in a full day of work, she wanted nothing more than to hide out at the loft and immerse herself in her own designs for a few hours before heading home to tuck Connor and Maisie into bed.
And to face her husband for the first time since their fight the previous night.
The knot in her chest tightened with a painful wrench. Their run -in with Amber shouldn’t have upset her so much, except that it provided proof of the one thing Isobel had feared most when Shea had offered her his help—that she’d let him get too close. And she had. She’d let him get way too close.
Though her heart had ached with the loss of him, his nearness inflicted fresh wounds. Because now she knew the exact color and flavor of the anguish that awaited her if he left her a second time. She couldn’t bear it, not again. Too late, she wished she’d never taken that risk.
To reclaim some of the distance between them, she’d snuck out of the house early that morning just to avoid him, leaving while he still showered, and she’d gone to bed early the night before so that she’d be sound asleep when he returned home from the pub. It was juvenile and cowardly, but she was desperate.
On the sidewalk, she careened toward the stairwell, anxious to retreat upstairs, but before she reached safety, the door to the pub opened and Sophie poked her head outside.
“C’mon,” she hissed, waving Isobel inside. “Quick, quick, quick.”
Isobel wavered, frowning at her friend. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”
“The party, silly. Come on. You’re late.”
Isobel’s stomach dropped the pavement beneath her feet. She forgotten Finn’s birthday? It was the cardinal sin of parenting. Terrible guilt swamped her as she rushed inside the pub behind Sophie.
She jolted when the large cheer went up.
“Surpri—!” The burst of sound died off as a collective groan.
Ava detached from the small crowd gathered. “Relax, everyone. It’s not him.”
Above the bar hung a large banner with the words “Happy Birthday, Finn!”
“Wait.” Isobel shook her head to clear it. “It’s not Finn’s birthday.”
“Maisie found out and we bumped it up a few days before she tattled to Finn.” Sophie smacked Ava on the arm. “I thought you were going to send her a reminder.”