Chapter 9 Evan
NINE
EVAN
My heart melts when Isaac offers to help with dinner.
I haven’t dated much and the guys I usually date tend to be jerks.
Apparently, in New Jersey, I had a type.
It’s time to change that. This is the first time I’ve had someone offer to help me cook.
The last guy I dated expected me to wait on him.
He owned a huge cyber security company and made more money in a year than I’ve made my whole life.
To him, my job was menial. He always had something negative to say about how much I made.
The best part about the move to Miami was he broke things off, but not before telling me I was making a huge mistake and I’d come crawling back to Jersey and him when I failed here.
No matter what happens in Miami, I will never go back to him.
“Evan?” Isaac’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Where did you go?” Concern laces his words as he places a gentle hand on my back. Heat shoots through my body at his touch.
“Um, sorry, I’m here.”
“Are you okay?” he asks, turning me to face him.
“Yeah.” I wave him off and turn back to the freezer, but Isaac isn’t having any of that. He turns me back to face him.
“Evan, what’s wrong?”
I sign heavily, knowing I need to tell him something, but not sure if I want to lay myself open and bring up bad shit from my past.
I decide to be honest. “Sorry. When you offered to help, my mind immediately went to a bad place.”
“Wanting to help is bad?”
“Not at all. Before I moved to Miami, I was in a bad relationship with someone who expected me to wait on him and take care of the cooking and cleaning up. He also made fun of me for not making as much money as him and called my job stupid and a waste of time. I guess having you offer to help was a little surprising.” I look away as my face heats with embarrassment.
“That guy’s an asshole,” Isaac snaps. He turns me to face him and places a hand on each arm, looking me in the eyes.
“No one should ever make you feel bad about who you are or what you do for a living. You offered to feed me dinner and I appreciate it. The least I can do is help. My parents raised me to be a gentleman and I don’t expect anyone to wait on me.
” He smiles brightly. “Now, put me to work.”
“Thank you.” I tell him then hand him the bag salad. “There’s a big blue bowl in the cabinet all the way to the left and a bag of croutons in the cupboard. Can you make the salad?”
“Of course. Do you have some dressing?”
“In the door of the refrigerator. I think I have a bottle of Caesar. If not, just use the open bottle of Italian.”
While Isaac gets busy on the salad, I take out a large skillet, put two tablespoons of olive oil in the bottom and let it heat a little before pouring in the bag of pasta, vegetables, and chicken.
As much as I enjoy cooking from scratch, these already prepared frozen meals have come in handy the past few weeks.
Most nights, I would have skipped dinner if it wasn’t for these.
Less than an hour later, we are sitting at the table with empty plates and full bellies. As I stand to clear the plates, Isaac stops me, “Sit. I’ll take care of cleaning up.”
“I can—”
“Evan,” he cuts me off. “I want to clean up. You deserve a break.”
“Thank you.”
It’s hard for me to let someone else take care of me.
My parents are the only people who have ever done anything for me and for the last few years, I’ve made a point to do most of the cooking and cleaning.
They were gracious enough to let me live in their home for five years after college before moving here.
I tried to pay rent, but they refused to take my money, so I slowly started buying groceries, cooking, and cleaning.
There was no way I was living there without doing something to help.
“Would you like another drink?” I offer.
“No. I have to drive soon.”
“You can stay on the couch.” The words are out of my mouth before I know I’m going to say them. What the hell? I can’t believe I offered for him to spend the night. I barely know the guy. He’s going to think I’m some kind of freak.
Isaac pauses for a few seconds as if letting the words sink in then he says, “If you don’t mind having me crash here then I’d love another drink.”
I nod to him then walk to the living room to retrieve our empty glasses.
I can feel him watching my every move, so I refrain from smiling like an idiot or doing a happy dance in full view of the kitchen.
It takes every single ounce of self-control to remain calm while I pour us each a double and bring his to him.
By the time I return to the kitchen, Isaac is loading the last few dishes in the dishwasher.
I grab a pod from the container under the sink and hand it to him, then I spray and wipe down the counter, stove, and table.
Once the cleaner is put away, we take our drinks and return to the couch.
As soon as we sit down, Isaac takes my hand and lightning shoots through me.
His touch sets every nerve on fire. I lace my finger through his and relax against the back of the couch, a smile tugging at my lips.
I suspected Isaac was gay, but honestly thought he was just being friendly by accepting my invitation.
We stay like that for several minutes, holding hands and sipping our bourbon.
I want to say something as the silence becomes uncomfortable, but I’m at a complete loss.
Silence has never been easy for me. I feel like I need to fill it with words, music, the TV, anything.
That’s why I suggested music earlier. Isaac seems perfectly content with the silence, but I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.
Isaac must sense my discomfort because he slowly starts rubbing his thumb over my hand. My nerves immediately begin to calm. He takes my bourbon and sets both of our glasses on the coffee table. When he leans back, he’s closer to me. Slowly, he leans toward me, invading my space. My breath hitches.
“Can I kiss you?”
I nod once before his lips are on mine. The kiss is gentle at first, then I open my mouth slightly and he pushes his tongue inside sending shock waves through me.
Instinctively, I wrap my hands around him and rub them up and down his back, feeling every muscle through his shirt.
Isaac follows suit wrapping one arm around me, pulling me closer while weaving the other hand into my hair.
Several breathless seconds later he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine.
“That was amazing,” he says. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the first time we met.”
“In the tunnel?” I ask. If that’s what he’s referring to, then he’s been thinking about me as long as I’ve been thinking about him. That thought has me beaming.
“Yes.” Isaac looks away as embarrassment heats his face.
Reaching up, I gently turn his face back to me and look him directly in the eye. “I’ve been thinking about you since that day, too,” I admit.
“Really?” he questions and this confident man, who is one of the biggest names in the NFL, looks like a terrified little kid.
“Yes, really. The first time I saw you, I wanted to find a way to meet you again. When I showed up this morning, I was surprised to find you in my office.”
“When Carter asked me to help, I jumped at the chance. I was disappointed when we first got there, and Hope told us it was going to be a surprise. I’m glad you decided to come into the office today.”
Leaning in, I kiss Isaac this time. Not quite as passionately as he kissed me, but enough to show him how I feel.
“Me, too,” I tell him after breaking the kiss.
We spend the next few hours, drinking bourbon and getting to know each other while holding hands and kissing. It’s a damn good Saturday night. The best one I’ve had in a long time.