she understood what he asked. And the lack of light made it easier to be honest. At least in this.
“Yes,” she breathed, and braced herself for his possible rejection.
“You’re stiffening again.” The hand surrounding hers squeezed lightly, a gesture of comfort. “Don’t worry, your secrets are as safe with me as you are.” He paused, his fingertips pressing into her scalp. “Just as I am with you.”
Oh, God. That...vulnerable admission had no business burrowing beneath skin and bone to her heart. But it did.
“Keep your name, but, sweetheart—” he heaved a heavy sigh, and for an all-too-brief moment he pressed his forehead to hers “—thank you.”
“I...” She swallowed, a shiver dancing down her spine. Whether in delight or warning, she couldn’t tell. Probably both. “You’re welcome. Anyone would’ve done the same,” she whispered.
Something sharp edged through his low chuckle. “That’s where you’re wrong. Most people would’ve kept going, only concerned with themselves. Or they would’ve taken advantage.”
She didn’t answer; she wanted to refute him but couldn’t. Because the sad fact was, he’d spoken the truth. Once she’d been a naïve twenty-year-old who’d believed in the good in people, in the happily-ever-after peddled by fairy tales. Gage had been her drug. And the withdrawal from him had nearly crushed her into the piece of nothing he’d constantly told her she was without him.
Shaking her head to get him out of her mind, she bent down and swept her hands along the floor, seeking the purse she’d dropped. Her fingertips bumped the beaded clutch, and with a small sound of victory, she popped it open and withdrew the snack bar she’d stashed there before leaving her apartment. With a two-year-old, keeping snacks on hand was a case of survival. And though her son hadn’t joined her at the gala, she’d tossed the snack in out of habit. Now she patted herself on the back for her foresight.
Unbidden, a smile curved her lips. If Aiden could see her, he would be holding out his chubby little hand, demanding his “eats.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose, battling back the sting in her eyes. Obtaining help for her son had driven her to this mansion, and she’d failed. It would be easy to blame the blackout for her not locating and approaching the Wellses. But she couldn’t deny the truth. She’d left the ballroom and headed to the restroom to convince herself not to leave. The plunge of the city into darkness had snatched the decision out of her hands, granting her a convenient reprieve from facing down the people who’d made it their lives’ purpose to ensure she understood just how unworthy and hated she was.
But it was only that—a reprieve. Because when it came down to a choice between her pride and providing a stable environment for her son, there wasn’t a choice.
When the blackout ended, she still had to face the Wellses.
“Did I lose you?” His softly rumbled question drew her from her desperate thoughts.
Clearing her throat, she settled on the floor, tucking her legs under her. She tugged on the hem of his pants, and he accepted her silent invitation, sinking down beside her. When the thick muscles of his leg brushed her knee, she reached out and skated a palm down his arm until she located his hand. She pressed half the cereal bar into it.
“What is this?” His low roll of rich laughter slid over her skin, and she involuntarily tightened her grip on her half.
“Dinner.” Isobel bit into the snack and hummed. The oats, almonds and chocolate weren’t caviar and toast points, but they did the job in a pinch. And this situation definitely qualified as a pinch.
“I have to say this is a first,” he murmured, amusement still warming his voice.
God, she liked it. A lot. No matter how foolish that feeling might be.
“So, you don’t want to share your name,” he continued. “And I’ll respect that. But since I’m sharing a cereal bar with you, I feel like I should know more about you besides your predilection for sci-fi movies. Tell me something about you.”
She didn’t immediately reply, instead nibbling on her snack while she figured out how to dodge his request. She didn’t want to give him any details that might assist him in figuring out her identity. But another nebulous reason, one that she felt silly for even thinking, flitted through her head.
Giving him details about herself...pieces of herself...meant she couldn’t get them back.
And she feared that. Had been taught to fear that.
Yet...
She bowed her head, silently cursing herself. What was it about this man? She’d never seen his face, didn’t know his name. And still, he called to her in a way that electrified her. If she’d learned anything from the past, she would shield herself.
“I’m a grudge-holder,” she said, the words escaping. Damn it. “I’ll never let my brother off the hook for burning my Christmas Barbie’s hair to the scalp when I was seven. I still give Elaine Lanier side-eye, whenever I see her, for making out with my boyfriend in the eleventh grade. And I will never, ever forgive Will Smith for Wild, Wild West.”
A loud bark of laughter echoed between them, and she grinned. The sound warmed her like the sun’s beams.
She tapped his leg. A mistake on her part. As she settled her hand back in her lap, she could still feel the strength of his muscle against her fingertips. Good God. The man was hard. She rubbed her fingertips against her leg as if she could erase the sensation. “Now your turn,” she said, forcing a teasing note into her voice. “Tell me something about yourself.”
He hesitated, and for a moment, she didn’t think he would answer, but then he shifted beside her, and his thigh pressed closer, harder against her knee. Her breath snagged in her throat. Heat pulsed through her from that point of contact, and she savored it. For the first time in years, she...embraced it.
“I love to fish,” he finally murmured. “Not deep sea or competitive fishing. Just sitting on a dock with a rod, barefoot, sun beating down on you, surrounded by quiet. Interrupted only by the gently lapping water. We would vacation at our summer home in Hilton Head, and my father and I would spend hours at the lake and dock behind the house. We’d talk or just enjoy the silence and each other. We even caught fish sometimes.”
His low chuckle contained humor, but also a hint of sadness. Her heart clenched at the possible reason why.
“Those were some of my best memories, and I still try to visit Hilton Head at least once a year, although I haven’t been in the last two...”
His voice trailed off, and unable to resist, she reached out, found his hand and wrapped her fingers around his, squeezing. Her heart thumped against her chest when his fingers tightened in response.
“I have the hugest crush on Dr. Phil. He’s so sexy.”
He snorted. “I cook the best eggplant parmesan you’ll ever taste in your life. It’s an existential experience.”
Isobel snickered. “I can write with my toes. I can also eat, brush my teeth and play ‘Heart and Soul’ on the piano with them.”
A beat of silence passed between
