Chapter 9
Deep End
Tara
It wasn’t the knock on my door that morning that surprised me. It was the time.
Seven in the morning felt too early for a man like him. Or maybe not. Apparently, nothing was off-limits.
I set the carton of cream on the counter, coffee still in hand as I shuffled to the door. There was no peephole, so I was forced to crane my neck out the living room window to see nothing but a muscled arm and a flash of denim.
There wasn’t really a reason to check anymore. It was him every single time.
I twisted the handle, opening the door with narrowed eyes.
“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you can’t stay away from me.”
Isaac stepped into my space, leaning in the doorway like he owned the place. Which I guess technically he did.
That stupid dimple popped in his cheek, white teeth flashing in a way that didn’t quite feel like a smile. “Are you kidding? I’m already sick of you, just standing here.”
“Mhmm.”
He took the mug from my hand, drinking long and deep. I watched his throat move and anticipation sent a shiver down my spine.
This was how it started.
Teasing. Closeness.
Then his hands on me.
But they weren’t moving.
Bad girl. We are not doing this again. It’s like feeding a stray cat. He was here for a treat this morning, but I probably wasn’t the only one feeding him.
The coffee soured in my stomach. I wasn’t jealous, I just wasn’t interested in being one of many.
I took my mug back, gulping it down before I gave him the impression he had an effect on me. He did, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Not a morning person?” He asked, studying my expression too closely.
“Not an uninvited guests type of person, actually.”
His breath hit my cheek, and that salt spray and woodsy scent of him filled my lungs. This man had no concept of personal space. “That’s not what you said last time.”
“That’s because last time I was under the impression it was our last time.”
Every time was supposed to be the last, but for some reason I just kept letting him in.
He twirled a strand of my hair around his finger. “You’re sick of me too?”
My breath caught, excitement gathering in my lower belly.
Who could get sick of a man like you?
I mentally stomped on that thought. I could get sick of Isaac the same way I got sick of any other man. Right now, he was attentive. Charming. Pushy but not aggressive.
He was also a total player. Obviously unsatisfied with what he had, which was why he was always pursuing someone new.
So, what was he doing back here—again?
The man had an ego a mile wide. Getting kicked out of my house a dozen times hadn’t deterred him at all.
But if he thought I was going to let him show up here whenever he pleased just to get his d—
“That’s what I thought.” Isaac shoved his way past me, adding a second mug to the counter and pouring his own cup of coffee.
He took mine next, adding extra coffee and cream before handing it back to me. I was once again mesmerized by him, accepting the cup in a daze. His palm encircled my hand, lifting the mug to my lips and watching me swallow.
When he spoke his voice was raspy and dark. “You’re going to need to change.”
Undress. That was what he meant. Usually he was more demanding, but maybe this was a new game.
I licked my lips. “Am I?”
“Yup.” He found a spoon, stirring his coffee, completely unaffected by my seductive tone. “Jeans and a T-shirt, if you’ve got ‘em.”
Wait a minute— “What? Why?”
Isaac took his time, taking a slow swig of coffee before answering, “So you don’t ruin those nice silk pajamas. And because you’ll make some old timer fall off the jetty and drown if you show up in that.”
He took my shoulders, turning me toward the bedroom. I went before I could think better of it.
He gave my ass a playful smack when my steps faltered. “Wouldn’t be a bad way to go.”
I swatted his hand away. “What are you talking about?”
“Do you really want to know?” He loomed over me, crowding me into the door frame.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Then be a good girl, and get dressed.”
The bedroom door clicked shut behind me, and I leaned against it, coffee mug trembling in my hand.
This was ridiculous. I should tell him to leave.
Curiosity got the better of me, and before I could overthink it, I was already tugging on a pair of jeans and a sweater.
“Care to tell me why I’m wearing these jeans?” Instead of watching you get on your knees and slip them off of me?
The sex I understood. It was easy. Black and white.
This version of Isaac—fully dressed, unnaturally calm—was making me nervous.
He gave me an appreciative look before finishing his coffee and setting the cup in the sink. “No.”
He took my hand, dragging me through the living room, out the front door, and down the steps. A small black truck was parked under the house beside my car, idling with the keys in the ignition.
“Get in,” he said, holding open the passenger door for me.
“This feels like one of those stranger danger moments I was warned about as a child.”
His fingertips pressed into my lower back, guiding me into the seat. “I would hardly call us strangers.”
I resisted, grabbing the door and twisting to glare at him. “I’m not just going to blindly get into your truck. I have things to do today.”
“What things?” He leaned against the truck, examining his nails like he had all the time in the world.
I reached for an excuse, coming up painfully blank. “Fine.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Give in just because I’m pushing.” He tipped my chin up. “Tell me what you want.”
“I don’t want anything.”
“Wrong. Try again.”
I tried to break free, but he tightened his grip. Not painful, just firm. “What is your problem?”
“Getting closer,” he sang.
I slapped his hand away. “I want to know where we’re going.”
Isaac smiled. “Fishing.”
“We’re going…fishing?” I searched for any way this could be an innuendo, my eyes sliding from his face to the tackle box in the bed of his truck.
He was serious.
“Yes. Now do you want to come, or not?”
The inside of his truck smelled like hot food when I climbed into the passenger seat. “What’s that smell?”
Isaac leaned behind his seat, fetching a plastic bag and dropping it in my lap. “Breakfast.”
I reached inside, finding half a dozen foil wrapped burritos. “You brought me breakfast?”
“Why do you sound surprised?”
“Because doing boyfriend stuff makes you look like you want to puke.”
“You’re right.” He grinned, snatching the bag back from me. “These are for me. I hope you’re not hungry.”
I wrestled the bag from him, grabbing a burrito at random and unwrapping it. Hot cheese and eggs filled my mouth and I groaned. “Why is cheap food so good?”
“That ex-boyfriend of yours wasn’t feeding you right if Stop N’ Shop burritos are making you moan like that.”
“Actually, he had expensive taste. Steak on weeknights. Prime rib and whipped potatoes on a random Tuesday. It was kind of exhausting.”
“Tell me more about your struggles, princess.”
“It was a struggle, thank you very much.” I stole a second burrito from his lap, smacking him with it. Isaac tried to dodge, jerking the wheel sideways and swerving the truck onto the wrong side of the road as he pulled out of the driveway.
“His standards were so ridiculous. I felt like I could never—"
“Never what?”
I took a bite, buying myself time, “Mess up. Be human.”
I watched Isaac in my peripherals, one hand resting casually on the steering wheel.
Sunlight sparkled off the bay, casting specks of golden light across his tanned skin.
Recognition tugged at my mind, and I couldn’t tell if it was a familiar cut to his jaw or the way it was easy to be with him, like we’d known each other for a lifetime.
The truck came to a stop minutes later. The sun on the water was blinding now, turning the churning surface white. Isaac handed me a pair of sunglasses, putting on his own and climbing out of the truck.
I followed him, frowning at the long jetty stretching into the bay. An orange marker sat on the end, identical to the one across the canal.
There were two other trucks parked on the side of the road beside ours. In the distance, I could make out figures standing still on the rocks with their backs to the wind.
Isaac lifted his tackle box and two poles out of the bed of the truck with grin. “You ready?”
I followed behind him, blinking despite my glasses. “I’m not sure if you could tell by looking at me, but I have no clue how to fish.”
“Trust me, I can tell.” He stepped carefully onto a hunk of rock, long legs stretching across the cracks.
To the right of the jetty, the water was deep and bottomless. There was nothing between us and the depths of the canal but a few slippery rocks. On the other side, the water was shallow, sand and seaweed visible through the waves.
Isaac moved quick and confident across the rocks, taking us deeper and deeper into the bay. My movements were slower, stepping carefully between rocks, staring warily at the deep end of the water where I was sure a shark was watching me.
“You can swim, right?” Isaac asked over his shoulder.
“In a swimming pool? Totally. In there? Probably not. That’s assuming I don’t get eaten.”
“There’s only bull sharks in the bay. They’re harmless.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard.”
He slowed to match my pace. “I’ve been skinny dipping in this water since I was knee-high. Nothing’s gonna eat you in there.”
I wasn’t reassured, sticking to the edge of the rocks near the shallow end until even that looked too deep to stand.
We stopped a hundred feet from the end of the jetty. Isaac dropped his tackle box, and handed me a fishing pole. “You’ve really never been fishing?”
“Not once.” I made a face. “Are you going to make me put a worm on this?”
“Of course not.” His eyes twinkled. “You’re going to use shrimp.”
“I changed my mind. I am sick of you.”
“It’s too late for that, darlin’.”
I watched in curious silence as he readied each pole. Curses tumbled from his mouth, and he dropped a pair of pliers more than once.