6. Isaac
6
ISAAC
H annah Jane Hayes made one glaring mistake: she left me alone in her house.
Of course, I knew better, but I never claimed I wasn’t an asshole. I was human. And every human on planet earth does one thing when they’re left alone in someone else’s house.
They snoop.
In the twenty-four hours I had been thinking about her, the kind of house Hell Yes Ma’am lived in never crossed my mind. I sure didn’t expect it to be a Victorian tucked into the historic district of downtown Beaufort.
Hannah Jane didn’t particularly strike me as the cozy type. I imagined her eating nails and screws for breakfast instead of Wheaties, and sweetening her coffee with the tears of her enemies.
When we pulled into the driveway, I was genuinely surprised to be greeted by hanging flower baskets dangling from the top of the porch.
Welcoming wicker furniture was staged perfectly for lounging and sipping wine on summer evenings. The left side of the porch had a gazebo with a turret roof. Situated right in the middle of the octagon was a hanging porch swing dotted with weatherproof pillows. Her home looked like it came straight out of the pages of Southern Living or Better Homes & Gardens.
Luxury real estate was my game. Beaufort may have been a quaint little fishing town, but the waterfront houses here sold well into the millions. I studied up on the local market when I helped Luca get his mansion on Davis Bay.
It was rare for me to be directly involved in getting a buyer into their new home these days. I oversaw a company that employed an army of realtors who pulled in obscene commissions on high-dollar properties. Most of them were commercial properties or large estates. Occasionally, though, I would manage a sale if the client was a big enough deal.
Hannah Jane’s house was small potatoes compared to the estates that came through our listings. Still, I could appreciate the charm and character.
I helped myself to a bottle of water from her refrigerator, noting the meticulously organized shelves. Of course she was a meal prepper.
I wouldn’t have expected anything less. Each reusable container was clearly labeled with the contents and the date. I was slightly disappointed that I couldn’t find a single thing in her fridge to make fun of. But I wasn’t giving up—there was a whole house to explore still.
Uncapping the bottle, I took a drink and looked around the kitchen. It was spotless.
I could get a photographer in here to shoot the rooms and have it sold in minutes. The whole place was perfectly styled and looked virtually untouched.
Did she actually live here? Or did she have a coffin propped up against the wall that she slept in upright? It sure would save time making the bed in the morning .
My housekeepers kept my place looking spotless, but Hannah did it all herself.
I wandered through the living room. Dark hardwood floors were accented with cream couches and leather armchairs. It was oddly masculine, but tastefully put together.
She had plants scattered on the coffee table and the fireplace mantle. Vintage books were stacked neatly on the end tables—clearly just for aesthetics and not for entertainment.
Huh. She didn’t have a television in the living room like most people did. Interesting. Instead of a flat screen on the wall above the fireplace, she had a magnolia leaf wreath.
I ignored her home office. Probably more of the perfect same. It was obvious that appearances were important to her. Then again, weren’t they important to everyone?
I grabbed my suitcase and made my way upstairs and paused . Where most people would put photos, Hannah had plants.
She had vases filled with fresh-cut flowers, figurines, and first edition novels—but not a single picture.
Even when I walked through estates owned by the richest of the rich, there were pictures. Hell, even my old man had pictures in his house, and he was the least family-oriented person I knew.
I poked my head into the guest room and left my bag just inside the door. It was exactly as I expected.
A basket of mini toiletries, snacks, and two bottles of sparkling water were perched on the corner of the bed. Fluffy white bath towels were rolled, sitting ready on top of the vanity.
I would have been flattered, but I knew she didn’t do that for me. Being prepared was just who she was.
Back to snooping.
I was determined to find just one fucking personal item that proved she wasn’t a damn robot. The bathroom and the other spare rooms were a bust. Which just left the master bedroom .
I ignored the impulse to judge her carefully curated decor. Instead, I went straight for the nightstand. I slid open the drawer and smiled.
My naughty girl. I pawed through the menagerie of vibrators and dildos and chuckled. She and I would be discussing this later .
I couldn’t let her get away with that holier-than-thou attitude when she had a sex dungeon in her bedside table. Notions of a repeat performance of our night together after the wedding floated through my mind.
Fuck.
No way that was happening. I was a one-and-done kind of a guy.
I wasn’t the love ‘em and leave ‘em type—I didn’t love them to begin with.
I, Isaac Lawson, did not fall in love.
Love was for suckers and chumps. Sure, my best friend was one of them, but I didn’t hold it against him. Maddie seemed cool.
Marriage was nothing more than two roommates, legally bound to tolerate each other. As a bonus, they got to file their taxes together. Good for them.
I wasn’t rings and vows . I was kinky sex and hot dates.
No way could I cross the line and let myself fuck Hell Yes Ma’am again—especially since I was stuck under her roof for God knows how long. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t have a little fun.
I thought for sure that she would have loosened up after I fucked her ‘till kingdom come. But not even twelve hours later, Hannah was back to her usual, uptight self.
I snooped around her diligently organized closet. Everything was arranged by garment type, color, and season. Hannah could probably get dressed blindfolded and come out looking like a storefront mannequin.
Unlike the living room, there was a TV in her room. I sat down on her bed and grabbed the remote, curious as to what a soulless automaton considered entertainment.
Apparently, she got off on re-watching The Office an obscene number of times because there was practically nothing else in her Netflix queue. I had just made it through Dwight trapping a bat over Meredith’s head when I heard the front door open and close.
“Isaac?” Hannah called out. I heard the click of her heels as she walked up the wood stairs.
I didn’t bother turning off the TV or closing the bedside table drawer where she kept her unmentionable toys.
I crossed one ankle over the other and laced my fingers behind my head as I relaxed on the pile of pillows that cascaded neatly from the tufted oatmeal-colored headboard.
“What on God’s green earth are you doing in here?” she shouted as she flung open the door.
I shrugged. “Binge-watching The Office. What else would I be doing in here?”
She immediately spotted the open drawer. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth gaped open like a fish. “ You didn’t ? — ”
“Nah, I didn’t use your assortment of dicks. Not my kink,” I said casually. Turning my head slowly, I looked her up and down and chuckled. “But your little collection got me thinking, and now I have plenty of ideas stored in my mental spank bank.” I smirked and looked her dead in the eye. “I like the idea of seeing you sprawled out on this big ass bed of yours, getting yourself off.”
Hannah reached over and slammed the drawer shut, but the motion set off one of the toys. Her cheeks turned cherry red, and I keeled over laughing.
She yanked the drawer open and fished out the vibrating dildo. Her slender hand wrapped around the silicone shaft.
Before she could turn it off, I leaned back on my elbows, tipped my knees open, and grinned. “Damn, I like the look of that. ”
I wasn’t shitting her. It was sexy as hell. Even the blush on her cheeks was a fucking turn-on.
“You gonna give me a show, Princess?”
Daggers shot out of her eyes as she turned the vibrating dildo off and put it back in the drawer—slowly closing it this time. “I thought you didn’t do the same girl twice,” she sneered, fastening her armor of snark and haughty derision.
I adjusted myself right in front of her.
Of course, I had a hard-on. She was in the room, wasn’t she? Hell, I’d been fighting an erection practically every time she made her presence known leading up to the wedding yesterday.
She wasn’t showing any skin that wouldn’t be appropriate for church, but that’s what made her so damn sexy. Legs for days shaped by those tight pencil skirts she fancied.
She looked like a fuckable secretary.
“I don’t,” I clarified. “Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view.”
“You’re a pig,” she snapped.
“You didn’t seem to mind that when I got you off four times last night.”
“Get out.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What? No comeback? That’s the best you can do?” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Gotta say, I’m a little disappointed in you, Hell Yes Ma’am.”
“Don’t call me that,” she hissed. Her eyes went from hateful to downright deadly.
So much for the sweet, southern belle.
Hannah Jane looked like she would fit right into the six merry murderesses of the Cook County Jail. I half expected her to break out into “Cell Block Tango”—telling the dust bunnies just how she popped me with her shotgun.
I got off the bed and stood in front of Hannah Jane, towering over her.
I lingered, watching the flex of the muscles in her throat. The subtle way her lips parted. The way her eyes tracked my mouth. Yeah, she was thinking about it. Thinking about what round two would be like.
I was a patient man.
Gently, I trailed one finger down the column of her neck and across her collarbone until it dipped into the unbuttoned neckline of her sheer blouse. I knew I was gambling, but like Luca always said: I was one irrationally confident son of a bitch.
“One question, Princess.”
Her lips pursed as she tried to hide how much that single touch affected her. The cards were in my favor. “What?” she huffed.
“What would you be doing tonight if I wasn’t here?”
A wicked smile grew on her face. Her eyes flitted up to meet mine. “I don’t know if you could handle it, Lawson.”
I slid my finger in a straight line, down the valley of her breasts, over her blouse, until it hooked in the waistband of her skirt. “What do you have in mind?”
“How were things at the hospital?” I asked.
Hannah sat next to me on top of her bed with a bowl of popcorn between us.
I had followed her downstairs, waiting patiently as she poured kernels into a pan on the stovetop, citing all the reasons microwave popcorn was terrible.
Once the kernels sprang to life, she dumped them into a large bowl, drizzled the popcorn with truffle oil, and sprinkled on some freshly grated parmesan.
She handed me the bowl while she grabbed two bottles of sparkling water and gave me marching orders back to her bedroom .
I set the snacks in her room before ducking into the guest room to change.
I hadn’t packed for an impromptu nonsexual sleepover at the house of a woman I barely knew. Luckily, I had a pair of mostly-clean sweatpants. When I walked back into her room, Hannah rolled her eyes at my shirtlessness, but she was just as scantily clad as I was.
She had on a cream-colored négligée. The satin stopped at mid-thigh, but it left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
Then again, we’d already had sex. Not like I hadn’t seen what was underneath.
The popcorn was an olive branch. She invited me to sit beside her and continue the marathon of The Office for as long as the power held out. The rain had picked up outside, and the ominous whistle of the wind promised one hell of a storm.
“The hospital was good,” she said, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Erica’s doing well. I didn’t stay long. She looked pretty tired.”
“Is the baby okay?” I mumbled. Truthfully, I didn’t know much about the process of pulling a human out of another human, nor did I want to get acquainted with the topic. But I figured that was a safe question to ask.
Hannah nodded. “Really good. She’s so cute. I held her for a little bit. Steve looked like he was going to lose his cool if he didn’t get his daughter back pronto, so I handed her back.”
I chuckled. “You and Maddie—you’re like honorary aunts, I guess.”
She smiled and wiggled back against the stack of pillows. “That’s the best part. I get my baby fix without having to actually take care of a baby.”
“Just spoil her and hand her back when you’re done?”
She pointed a finger gun at me and winked. “You got it.”
I chuckled and grabbed a handful of popcorn. “Not a bad gig. ”
Our attention turned back to the TV. It had been a long fucking time since I had just sat beside a woman and hung out. I was either working hard or partying harder. I wasn’t the “lounge around in my pajamas and make pancakes on a Saturday morning” type.
But it was nice. I’d give her that.
I slung my arm around her shoulders and tipped my bottle of sparkling water toward hers. “Cheers to a temporary hurricane truce.”