14. Isabella
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ISABELLA
Nick: If you have any free time today, I’m working on the stage. Let me know if you want to help.
Itamp down my disappointment and continue with my morning, getting breakfast for myself. Not necessarily the text I expected after a forehead kiss goodnight.
It’s still an invitation, though. And I do need to put the timeline for the stage build into my spreadsheet.
Indecision gnaws at my insides as I nibble on a bagel. If I said I had too much on my plate with the event to stop by, he would understand. He may not even take it personally.
But the truth is…I’d regret it. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how his hands felt on my body since last night, and in reality, the boundaries I was so set on are already trashed. I can either lean in and see what happens or permanently shut this down.
Isabella: I’ll bring the caffeine.
Guess I’m leaning in. With that, I put on my jacket and head outside.
Another beautiful day in Lunamois, another day I can pretend that I don’t have a loud, over-crowded apartment waiting for me in Seattle.
A life that doesn’t feel like mine.
I refuse to go down that rabbit hole. I’m enjoying myself for the first time in such a long fucking time, and I will not ruin it by focusing on the future.
I refuse to do anything from this moment forward but enjoy the present.
I’m going to enjoy the way the crunchy leaves feel under my boots and the camaraderie of the locals as they greet each other.
I’m going to enjoy the little bell above the Tea Leaves door and Georgie’s giant smile.
“There’s my girlie pop!” she says as I approach the counter. “I got your pumpkin spice tea brewing.”
“Can I also have Nick’s usual? I’m going to stop by the park while he’s building,” I reply, a nervous little huff escaping me.
Georgie was there last night. Georgie saw the way we danced.
She raises an eyebrow but smiles and nods her head, not saying anything else. Thank God. I don’t know if I could take her questions right now when I’m so unsure of what’s going on, myself.
“Why don’t you take him a croissant, too?” she finally says, putting three croissants and a chocolate zucchini muffin in a bag and drinks in a to-go tray. “He didn’t grab breakfast here this morning and, knowing him, he’ll forget to eat.”
“Thanks, Georgie.”
“And hey, I’m sorry for bailing last night,” she says, shifting on her feet uncomfortably. “And for texting him. I just thought the two of you might need a push in the right direction.”
I can’t be mad at her. “Playing cupid?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Gross. No. I was just unwilling to suffer through you two making goo-goo eyes at each other in my café for one more day.”
A few more customers come in, so I wave goodbye with a promise to text her and make plans.
Drinks in one hand, bag of baked goodies in the other, I walk to the park, unable to stop thinking about how excited I am to see Nick. I’m leaning in.
I hear the hammering before I see him, the rhythmic boom-boom-boom that reverberates in my chest as I approach. I’ll pretend that’s why my heartbeat picks up speed; I’m just matching the beat of the hammer.
“Mmm,” he breathes in, closing his eyes when I’m close enough. “Did you bring me breakfast, Izzy?”
The way he opens his eyes and trails them along my skin makes me shiver. Does he mean me or the food?
“Couldn’t let you starve now, could I, boss?” I say with a half-smile, eyes caressing his skin.
He leans back where he sits on the ground surrounded by supplies, and his t-shirt stretches across his broad chest. “You sure you aren’t an angel? You’ve color-coded my schedule, filtered through endless appointment calls, and brought me breakfast.”
The last thing I want is for Nick to place me on a pedestal. I’ve been trying to climb the one my parents built for me my whole life, and I always fall short. “We’ll just say you owe me.”
“Dinner?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I owe you dinner? Tonight?”
I can’t hide the smile that breaks over my face at the invitation. “If I say yes, can I get away with not actually helping you build the stage? Manual labor isn’t my vibe.”
“Deal,” he chuckles. “And noted.”
“In that case…” I put down his croissant and coffee. “I’ll go shop a little at the bookstore.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
Promise blazes in those blue eyes, so hot and intense I swear to God I’m on fire. I turn on my heel, practically fleeing toward One Page More before I do something ridiculous like maul him in the middle of town.
It’s the perfect time to explore the bookstore—Lord knows I’m not going to get any work done anytime after that.
I open the front door to One Page More and am immediately overwhelmed by shelves that reach to the ceiling and the scent of old books. They’re everywhere. Every single nook and cranny of this tiny store is crammed with books.
“Hi!” An auburn-haired woman about my age waves from behind the ancient counter. “You’re the new event planner, aren’t you?”
“Isabella,” I reply, running a hand through my hair. “That obvious, huh?”
She smiles kindly. “It’s a small town, honey. We all knew everything there was to know about you within forty-eight hours. The good news is that we didn’t uncover anything weird.”
I huff a nervous laugh. Oh God. They did research? As a town?
“Although if we did, I sure as heck wouldn’t tell ya!” she giggles, little mushroom earrings swaying back and forth. “What has you comin’ in today?”
I let out a nervous giggle. I’m not sure if I like all this attention. “I just haven’t been in here before. I wanted to check it out.”
“Lovely! Well, you just take your time and let me know if you have any questions. I’ll be here.” She dives back into the book she was reading—romance, by the looks of it—and leaves me to fend for myself.
I take a little while to peruse the shelves, but first date energy has me bouncing around without landing on anything specific.
“Do you want me to give you a recommendation?” she asks, pulling her nose out of her book.
I nod, tucking an errant lock of hair behind my ear.
She stands, making her way toward me and perusing the shelves. “Oh! I’m Juliette, by the way. Can’t believe I didn’t even introduce myself.”
I open my mouth to reply, but she thrusts a book into my hands.
“Here! This one! This one is perfect!” she says, excitement on her round face. “It’s a werewolf romance!”
That’s a little on the nose, but I don’t give it back to her. “Thank you.”
We make our way back to her counter and ring up the book. “You know I was never friends with Nick, but I was really sad when his parents passed. He’s a good guy. I’m glad you’re getting to know him.”
My heart stutters in my chest. His parents passed?
“Oh. Well, um. Thank you for the book. I’m glad, too.”
And with that, I flee out of the store with this new bit of information that I feel a little uncomfortable learning from someone other than Nick.
He’ll talk about it when he’s ready, and I’ll be here for him when the time comes.