Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
ISABELLE
A dam shifts in his seat. “All right, back to questions about you.”
“Let’s go,” I say.
“One thing they might actually ask is your favorite movie.” He tilts his head, a smirk on his lips. “I’m sure you’ll say it’s Quantum Directive .”
I raise a brow at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Come on. Surely you took your friend to see that one. Even I admit that it was one of my best films.”
I suck in a breath. “You did overhear my conversation with Jen!”
His eyes widen when he realizes his mistake. “Just bits and pieces,” he confesses.
I rack my brain, trying to remember at what point in the conversation Jen talked about making out with Adam, and if that was before or after she LOUDLY announced I had dragged her to every one of Adam’s movies over the last five years.
Yikes .
Better to just move on, unaffected. “I may have seen Quantum Directive , but it’s not my favorite movie.”
“But it is my best film,” Adam says, leaning toward me.
I shrug a shoulder. He’s not wrong. Not only was he ridiculously handsome in his black suit, but he was intelligent, charismatic, flirtatious… My cheeks flame just thinking about how Jen and I squealed in the theater when he finally kissed the female lead.
Aaaaand now I’m thinking about kissing Adam.
“ Seven Brides for Seven Brothers !” I say, quickly shifting the conversation back to my favorite movie.
He sits back in his seat. “Really?”
I nod. “I know it’s got misogynistic overtones, what with the brothers all kidnapping the girls and making them fall in love with them, but the music and the dancing…”
“Is Adam your favorite character?” he asks, teasing.
“Ew, no,” I laugh. “It’s Ben for sure. The winter scene is…” I make a chef’s kiss gesture. “Besides, Adam just disappears and leaves everyone alone while he broods in the cabin.”
Adam’s expression sobers, and I realize how strange it is that this Adam in front of me did exactly what Adam in the movie did by running away from his wife and brothers.
I clear my throat. “But nothing compares to that barn raising scene. The dancing is absolutely incredible.”
Adam gives me a small smile. “It is.”
I tilt my head at him. “Wait, so you’ve seen it? I thought you didn’t?—”
“Next question,” he interrupts, any hint of a smile completely vanished.
Just when I think I’m getting somewhere with him, he completely shuts down. I keep getting glimpses of who he is under his stony exterior, and it feels like someone I could bond with. But now he’s all business .
So we talk about other favorites. No, not raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, but favorite foods (his is filet mignon with a blue cheese crust, mine is beef wellington, which I don’t get to eat very often) and favorite places to be (his is the snowy mountains, mine is the beach in Hawaii).
Lionel comes in as I’m describing the cliff overlooking the ocean by the seven sacred pools in Maui. “Mr. Stone, your aunt is calling.”
“Agatha?” He furrows his brow, then stands. “I’ll take the call—” He cuts himself off, looking at me, then sits back down. “Actually, I’ll take the call here. She can meet Isabelle.”
Lionel bows his head and leaves to get Adam’s phone.
“Agatha is…interesting,” Adam says to me. “But I think she’ll provide some entertainment for our evening.”
I’m about to ask what he means, but Lionel comes in with Adam’s phone, and my jaw drops at the sight on the screen. An elderly woman…dressed as a pirate wench, complete with an eye patch.
“Hello, Aunt,” Adam says, a small smile on his lips. “You’ve chosen an interesting ensemble.”
“Yes, you should try the eye patch,” she says, her thick British accent tinging her words. “It’s partly inspired by you and your injury, after all. I’m not sure how you function, being unable to see through your eye.”
Adam clears his throat, visibly uncomfortable. So he is blind in one eye.
Agatha takes it all in stride. “I’m so glad I’m able to get through to you. Was your cell service cut off again?”
“Yes, it’s been snowing.”
“In May? Ah, you must have been in quite a foul mood.”
Wait…was Lionel telling the truth about the weather being dependent on the resident’s mood?
No way. That’s too silly .
“But you must be happier now,” she continues. “And no wonder, since you’ve got a beautiful woman next to you. Who are you, my dear?”
“Oh! I’m Isabelle Lovett,” I reply.
“Lovett? How do I know that name?”
“Her father is Jim Lovett, my manager,” Adam supplies.
“Ah, yes. He’s to blame for Adam leaving us for Hollywood.”
“Aunt,” Adam protests. “It’s not his fault I left.”
“No?” Agatha retorts. “Perhaps if you had a different manager, you wouldn’t have stayed there and come home sooner. But no, you had to instantly book a movie and become a big success.” She wiggles her fingers around her head and rolls her eyes at the screen, and I laugh.
“I’m glad you think my father is good at his job,” I say.
“Hmph,” Agatha replies. “So, what are you doing there? I didn’t think Adam had any visitors these days.”
“Well, we’re possibly going to act in a movie together,” I say.
Adam turns his head to look at me. “Are we now?” he says softly, and his eyes twinkle with…hope?
I shoot him a glance. “It’s the easiest explanation, isn’t it?” I whisper back.
“Speak up, dears!” Agatha calls out. “None of these side conversations.”
I chuckle and turn back to her. “I came up to meet him and happened to get snowed in, so I’m stuck here until it’s safe to drive back home.”
“Ah.” She watches me carefully, and I feel like she’s assessing me, trying to determine if I fit some criteria. After a few moments of silence, she claps her hands. “Well! I’m glad to hear that. I won’t keep you any longer. Enjoy your evening!” And she promptly ends the call.
“She’s…interesting,” I comment .
Adam snorts. “Yes, she definitely is.” He pauses, a wistful look in his eyes. “She has a soft spot for Lily.”
I nod but stay quiet. I’ve realized that when he brings up sensitive subjects, it’s best for me to let him express himself at his own pace and not to prod him with any more questions.
He changes the subject back to interview tips, helping me plan out my general approach and personality traits, but before long, I’m yawning. “Sorry,” I say. “It’s not you, I promise.”
He smirks. “I’m highly offended.”
“I’m sure you are.”
He stands, then holds his hand out to me. “Come. Let’s get you to bed.”
I put my hand in his, surprised by his gentlemanly propriety, and feel the warmth from his touch travel from my hand and into my belly. He wraps my hand around his arm, just like a gentleman, and we walk together out of the room.
“To the theater?” he asks.
I just nod, and we walk the rest of the way in silence. When we reach the door, he stops and turns to face me.
What’s happening right now? Do we hug? Shake hands?
Kiss?
No, no, no Isabelle. No kissing.
“Thank you for your help,” I finally say. “I feel so much more prepared now.”
“You would’ve been fine without me,” he replies. “But it’s always better knowing what you’re getting into.”
I give him a small smile, and he leans down, pressing a sweet kiss on my forehead. I suck in a breath at the contact of his lips on my skin. It’s just a kiss on my forehead, but it sends sparks down to the tips of my toes.
“Sleep well…Belle,” he says.
I look up at him, and he has uncertainty in his eyes, like he’s wondering if he crossed a line using the nickname from my mother.
It’s the exact opposite. My eyes feel wet, and my face fills with a huge grin. He smiles back at me, and if he wanted to kiss me, I think I’d let him.
But instead, he just nods, releases me, and leaves.
Oh, Adam Stone. What are you doing to me?