Chapter 12 #3
Isla surprises me—that’s getting to be a theme—with a simple and heartfelt, “I’d love to, but only if it’s okay with your dad.”
“Yep. It’s okay,” I say. It’s one evening. It’ll be fine. I’ll be just fine.
“We can do the Advent calendar too then,” Mia says.
“Sounds fun,” Isla says as we walk inside.
She sounds like she means it and for a second, my pulse kicks into high gear. Then reality clobbers me as I remember item number three on my list of Isla. She likes to gather info in her notebooks. And that’s all this is. That’s all today has been. It's just intel gathering. Nothing more.
Over takeout sushi, Isla artfully scoops up an avocado roll with her chopsticks while looking my way. “Earlier you said your mom was inking someone. Does that mean your parents run a tattoo shop?”
“They do. Just opened their third location. Over in Hayes Valley,” I say proudly.
“They didn’t stay in Vancouver?”
“Nope.” I dip a tuna roll in the wasabi, not even bothering with soy sauce.
“My sister moved here first when she met her husband, and with both of us in San Francisco, my parents moved here and opened a shop in the Mission District. It wasn’t always easy, but they pulled it off.
They still own one in Vancouver, but they have some local artists running it. ”
“That’s fantastic to have them nearby,” she says, then tilts her head. “It’s a hard business though?”
“It can be,” I say, remembering a few years back when business was down. “Their shops have been through some tough times.”
“But my dad helped,” Mia chimes in as she reaches for an edamame.
That seems to spark Isla’s interest. “Oh, he did?”
“He paid for the ads, and he hired a…” She pauses, maybe trying to remember the word. “A consult…”
“A consultant?” Isla offers.
“That’s it! Someone to help market it,” Mia adds.
Isla turns to me. “That was kind of you.”
But I don’t want to make too big a deal of it. “They help me every day. It was the least I could do,” I say, since really, it was a pleasure to make life easier for my family.
“What did they do? The consultant?”
I pause, with my chopsticks holding another tuna roll. “Introduced temporary tattoos, partnered with influencers, marketed more specifically online. It really turned their shops into a premier tattoo destination.”
“And you made it happen,” Isla says with a smile.
“They make my business happen for me. It was a no-brainer,” I say, since I don’t want or need the credit. I’m just grateful I could help.
“But not everyone does that,” Isla says as Mia grabs another edamame.
“They’re taking me on a kid-grandparent cruise right after Christmas,” Mia offers.
“Lucky you. Where will you be cruising?”
“In the ocean,” she says. “They’re bringing some of my friends too. I can’t wait. Dad, can I get a tattoo?” Mia asks not for the first time, waggling the edamame while batting her eyelashes.
I scoff-laugh. “Absolutely not.”
Like a Machiavellian cherub, Mia turns to Isla and stage-whispers, “I ask him that sometimes just to tease him.”
“I like you,” Isla says, then boops Mia’s nose before glancing my way.
I pause, the tuna roll midway to my mouth. I did that to Isla earlier at the tree farm—ran a fingertip down her nose. Did she like it? She seemed to, judging by the flicker in her eyes, the catch in her breath.
My breath hitches now as she holds my gaze a second too long. Maybe two.
I look away, popping the roll in my mouth.
It’s nothing. All of this is nothing.
In the living room after dinner, I tug out the so-called Advent box.
It holds all the wrapped books I snagged for my kiddo, some she chose and some I did, numbered for the days of the calendar.
Mia hunts through it for the number three—for the third day of December—and rips off the brown wrapping paper.
She squeals in excitement for The Reindeer Riders Club, clutches the book to her chest, then throws her arms around me. “Thank you, Dad.”
“You’re welcome. Now get ready for bed. And don’t trick me this time,” I warn her playfully.
“I’ll try not to,” Mia says, then runs upstairs.
Isla heads to the front door, sliding on her coat, then shouldering her bag. “Thanks again for dinner.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
“Thanks, Rowan,” she says, and I like the way she says my name too much.
I should stop noticing the little things. The way she blushes. The way her laugh is both husky and sweet. The way she fits so easily into my day.
We reach her car, and she stands beside the passenger door, her breath fogging in the chilly air. “I have a few initial women for you to meet on Saturday,” she announces.
Right.
Another reminder—tonight was for observation.
Like I’m an animal at the zoo, and she’s writing the report.
My shoulders slump, but really, I shouldn’t be bothered.
That is the whole point of this time we’ve spent together these last few days.
But to be sure, just so I’m crystal clear on where things stand, I ask, “You were figuring out who to introduce me to during our dinner?”
“My brain doesn’t like to stop,” she says with an apologetic shrug.
She leans a little closer, giving a coy smile.
“Also someone gave me a deadline.” She pokes my sternum with her finger, and I want to grab it and pull her close.
I want to keep finding little ways to touch her, like I’ve done all day.
This is getting to be a problem.
But really, the sooner I get through this dating project the sooner I’ll pay my debt to my teammates.
I’m doing this matchmaking adventure for them.
Going along with the dates so I don’t grinch too hard at their gala.
And, I suppose, I’m also doing it for Jason, since he wanted me to use his sister’s services.
I’d do well to remember this isn’t a chance to let my crush run roughshod over my common sense.
“What’s the plan then?” I ask, all businesslike.
“We’ll do a cookie swap, since I know you have a sweet tooth. Everyone will make some cookies and we’ll share them, like a potluck. Plus, it’ll help with the time crunch you’re under.”
“How so?”
She bounces on her toes. “It’s a little like speed dating, since I’ll have three men and three women I’m working on matching. See? I told you the deadline would be totally doable.”
I barely gave her time to match me and instead she said hold my beer and rolled three potential dates into one? “Great,” I mutter.
“And since I learned a little more about you after today, I’m confident I can make sure the women are all good matches. So you didn’t need to worry at all about the Evergreen Falls timing issue.”
I wouldn’t say I was worried. “Cool,” I say, a little toneless, because she’s thwarted me again.
But that’s for the best. I don’t need to fall into the trap of mistaking all this time we’ve spent together for anything else. It’s wise to be one step ahead of anyone you have feelings for, whether it’s a crush or more. That way you can’t be hurt.
“Sounds like a plan.” I say.
“So you’ll bring cookies to the swap and you won’t grumble and complain?”
“Please. I don’t do that.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“Rowan.” She sounds so hopeful as she pleads with me.
“Fine,” I relent. “I’ll be festive as fuck.”
She rolls her eyes. “Really?”
“Don’t you want festive as fuck?”
She sighs, then nods. “Yes. I’ll take festive AF.”
“That’s what you’ll get then,” I say.
Isla lingers for a second, like she’s debating something. But she says nothing. I take the bait, arching a brow at her. “What is it?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing.” She nibbles on the corner of her lips. “Just…today was fun.”
Fun? The day I nearly messed up school pickup? The day I let my crush drive me around like some kind of chauffeur? The day I realized Isla’s terrifyingly good at fixing problems? The day she sounded like she…enjoyed doing all those things? Really and truly?
Like a date would?
Nope. I can’t get caught up in those thoughts. Best to think of her like Mia does—as a friend. A friend who came through in a pinch. Which means I should stop teasing her about dating me in any fashion or I’ll get too wrapped up in her. “Thanks again for the save. Really appreciate it.”
Isla gives me a knowing smile, one that says she’s aware I’m not great at this—accepting help, acknowledging kindness, letting someone in. “Anytime, Rowan.”
I walk Isla to the driver’s side door and she slides into her car, her fingers tapping the steering wheel as she hums a holiday tune, presumably. She drives off, her ridiculous Christmas-light-covered vehicle disappearing down my street.
While I appreciate, even admire, Isla’s efforts to excel at her job, that doesn’t mean I want to find real love.
I have to double down on my plan to play along. To fake it so I can finish this commitment. Yes, she helped me today and I’m grateful. But playing along won’t hurt anyone. In fact, it’ll help both of us be done with this romantic charade sooner.
When I go back inside, I head upstairs to Mia’s room. She’s all ready for bed in her reindeer jammies, her teeth freshly brushed, her book on the nightstand. After she hops into bed, she pats the side of the mattress next to her.
I sit down so I can listen to her read.
But she doesn’t crack open the book yet. Instead, she says, “You like her.”
I clench my jaw. This is bad. I can’t have Mia getting ideas. I scoff, but with a smile. “We’re friends. Like you and Isla.”
She rolls her eyes. “Sure, Dad.”
But this is exactly why I can’t just say we’re friends and leave it at that.
My daughter is too smart, but also, I don’t want to lie to her.
Sure, Isla might fit broadly under the friend umbrella, but she’s not really in my life in that capacity.
She’s sending me out on dates. Best to be honest with my kid.
“She’s also looking for a date for me for the team’s Christmas Eve gala.
My teammates hired her for me at the auction,” I say, rolling my eyes, letting her know what I think of that detail.
Mia’s jaw drops. “She’s your matchmaker and you like her?” Mia asks, but it’s hardly a question. Since she’s too busy laughing for me to even answer her scarily accurate assessment of my situation.
Just like that, I know I’m screwed.