18. Isabella
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ISABELLA
Nick doesn’t move back to his side of the booth. Doesn’t leave my side.
And I am so okay with it.
His body heat pulls me closer with each cool breeze through the open windows until I’m nestled into his side, hanging onto every word of his story about the time he and Dane got caught drinking at nineteen behind Clover’s Market.
He talks with his hands. They wave about as he describes running from Old Lady Clover and tripping on a branch.
“Wolves don’t scar easily, but that’s how I got this one.” He lifts his arm, pulling his sleeve up his forearm, exposing the lean muscle and slightly protruding veins.
I barely restrain myself from licking my lips.
It took me a second earlier to shake off the wave of emotion that came when he told me I was enough. I’ve never heard that from anyone before.
It’s always been: Isabella, you need to try harder. Isabella, you can’t even get through two years of medical school? Isabella, when are you going to buckle down and get a real job?
It’s been exhausting.
But from the moment I stepped into this town, Nick hasn’t had a single doubt about me. He genuinely believes in me.
“Do you have any scars?” he asks, finishing his story and chasing away the voices of my parents. They haunt me a little less now.
“Only emotional ones,” I reply with a smile.
He nods, severity pulling his eyebrows together. “Everyone has those.”
Boldness lifts my hand, which smooths the furrowed lines of his forehead. “I almost ran my bike into a tree once, but somehow I got out of that mostly scot-free. Just a couple of bruises and bumps.”
He takes my hand as I go to pull it away and kisses my palm. “You’re perfect exactly as you are. Bumps, bruises, emotional scars, and all.”
“So are you,” I whisper.
“Your dinner has arrived.” I jump into the air at the server’s arrival. I lean back from the magnetic pull of Nick’s eyes, only barely restraining the urge to fan myself.
The slightly awkward but adorable teenage boy places our plates in front of us and then stands straight. “If either of you needs a refill or anything else, please wave and I’ll come on over.”
I take a sip of liquid courage before turning to Nick. I like this vulnerable side of him, and selfishly, I want to know more about the person underneath the reliable, kind handyman.
“I have something to admit,” I say once the teenager is out of earshot.
He slices into his chicken but doesn’t take his eyes from me as I work up my nerve.
“I may have heard some things about your past as I’ve been meeting the locals.”
His knife stops for a beat before he clears his throat and starts again. “Kind of the norm for a small town. What would you like to ask me about?”
Nerves work their way down my spine until his expression softens. “I’m an open book, Isabella. Anything you’ve found out is something I would’ve told you eventually.”
The reassurance helps. I straighten my spine and meet his gaze.
“I was told about an accident.”
He sighs, resignation on his face. “I figured that may be the case. The accident happened a few years ago. Both of my parents lost their lives, and while my brother was severely injured, there wasn’t any permanent damage.”
I place my hand on his cheek, the pain on his face slicing through my chest. “I’m so sorry, Nick. I can’t imagine.”
He covers the hand on his cheek with his own, squeezing as his voice takes on a gruff edge. “It was the worst pain I’ve ever endured. Grief stays with us, becomes part of who we are. We just learn how to carry it.”
“And your brother?”
“Caleb.” He coughs. “Once he was able, he left and hasn’t set foot in this town since.”
My mouth gapes open. “He just left you? Does he at least call?”
His eyes close, as if thinking about this is just too much. Guilt rumbles in my belly for even bringing it up in the first place.
I have to give him an out. “I’m sorry, we don’t have to—”
“He left because he had to,” Nick continues. “At the very least, I understand that.”
I look at this man who has been through so much, and my heart aches for him. For the way he must feel being in this town every day. Serving this town every day.
“Nick,” I whisper until he meets my gaze. “You were worth staying for. You are worth staying for.”
And I can’t help but think about how much that rings true. If this date continues this way, and our relationship progresses, he would be worth staying for.
He leans his forehead into mine until I can feel his breath on my face. “Thank you, Izzy.”
“You know, you’re the only one who calls me that. Everyone else calls me Isabella.”
He quirks a little half smile. “Then that can just be mine.”
His.
I like the sound of that.
We stay on softer topics while we finish up, and I can honestly say this has been the best date of my life. I’ve never opened up like this before with anyone, and I’ve certainly never had anyone open up to me.
It makes me excited for both the vulnerable and silly moments we have ahead of us.
The waiter clears our dishes with a gangly sort of teenage grace. “My manager said the bill has already been paid, so goodnight. And thank you!”
“Before you say a word—” Nick scoots around the booth until he can exit on the other side. “Dessert is at another location. I wouldn’t dream of depriving you of something sweet.”
And here I was hoping a delicious kiss would be my dessert.
“I’m intrigued,” I say, taking his hand and sliding to stand in front of him. This close, I can practically drown in the blue of his eyes. In the intensity of his gaze.
“You gotta quit looking at me like that, Izzy,” he practically begs. He leans in so close I can feel his breath on my lips.
“Looking at you in what way?” I tease, not changing a damn thing about how I’m undressing him mentally.
His responding growl is low and deep, like a heavy bass line in a song. I can feel it rumbling through my chest and down to my toes. “Like you have much sweeter ideas for dessert than the cake I had custom-made.”
I shiver. “I don’t know about sweeter. But certainly tastier.”
“Fuck.”
I smile, leaning back from him. I’ve rarely gone after what I wanted in life.
Hell, I’ve rarely known what I’ve wanted in life.
But now? I want to tease Nick until all his carefully constructed control melts, and he throws me up against a wall. Call this step one of a plan that hopefully only takes a couple more hours.
“Show me this cake, boss.” I turn, whipping my hair behind me. “Let’s see how sweet it really is.”