Cherish Hard
Page 36
Sailor hadn’t paid too much attention to the tidbits about Jacqueline’s personal life in the research he’d done. He’d been more far more interested in her business strategies. Some of that information had, however, stuck, so he knew the marriage Ísa was talking about couldn’t have lasted long. Yet she’d embraced Harlow as her brother.
That said a lot about his curvy spitfire.
Her phone rang again just as she’d parted her mouth to speak, the ringtone a generic one. Ísa glanced at the screen. “It’s Oliver, my mother’s current husband.”
Lifting the phone to her ear on that mystified statement, she answered in front of Sailor. “Oliver, hello.” Then, “What?” in pure astonishment. “You know I don’t have that kind of influence on her.” She listened for a while. “Oh, I’m sorry. Look, I’ll try, okay? Can’t promise anything though.”
Hanging up, she blew out a breath. “I have to make a call. Is there any point in my going to the balcony?”
“Nope. You want to go in my bedroom? The sheets are still messy from this morning,” he said in deliberate provocation. “Hot dreams about a hot redhead.”
Color on her cheekbones, but she held her ground. “Probably matches my bed. I took off my pj’s in the middle of the night, I got so hot. Nude sleeping apparently has a lot of health benefits.”
“Oh, I know, spitfire,” Sailor drawled. “I don’t own pj’s.”
Her pupils dilated, her breath catching.
And Sailor’s body began to push for hard, dirty, physical TLC.
21
Knight in Gardening Armor
SAILOR GRIPPED THE EDGE OF the counter and tried to count to a hundred to get his erection under control while, across from him, his wicked little playmate made her call. Her voice, he was pleased to note, was breathy, the pulse in her throat moving too fast.
“Mom,” she was saying, “Oliver cooked you an anniversary dinner, even timed it for your usual late finish. You know this is a big deal for him. Go home.” A long pause before she said, “Shall I order the divorce cake now? Chocolate or red velvet?”
When she hung up a few seconds later without further words, Sailor figured Jacqueline had decided to go have dinner with her husband. “Does that kind of thing happen often?” he asked as he walked out to the grill to put on the fish.
“That’s a new one.” Ísa leaned in the doorway of the balcony, and it felt intimately comfortable—as if they’d been doing this forever.
As if he knew her bone deep.
Yeah, Sailor wasn’t stupid. This, what they had, it was something special. He’d do whatever it took to convince his redhead to stick with him. Even if meant using his manly wiles and body to confuse her every time she thought of a good reason why they weren’t suited.
“Poor Oliver,” she said with a shake of her head. “It’s like a marriage between a befuddled puppy and a barracuda.”
Her phone rang for the third time before Sailor could reply.
Worry swept over Ísa’s features like a tidal wave. “My sister’s a texter except when there’s a problem.” She lifted the phone to her ear. “Catiebug?” Her body straightened. “Catie, honey what’s the matter? Is it—” A pause. “Yes, I’ll do it now.”
Shoving a hand through her hair after hanging up, she paced back to the counter as she made another call. Then it was back to Catie. “Your father’s fine, sweetheart. He must have his phone on silent. The hotel concierge confirmed for me that Clive is on the gaming floor.”
A minute later, she walked out to take a seat on the single chair he had on the other side of his postage-stamp-sized space. “Sorry about that,” she said, her arm hooked over the back of the chair. “Catie heard about a Kiwi man of her dad’s age getting mugged at the hotel where he’s staying and panicked.”
Yet instead of calling Jacqueline, the other girl had called Ísa. And Ísa had just handled it, was now sitting chatting with him as if the past fifteen minutes hadn’t been extraordinary, as if she hadn’t just put out three emotional fires without blinking.
Sailor was both proud of his redhead and irritated by the other adults in her life who clearly weren’t pulling their weight. From what he’d witnessed so far, it was starting to look like she was the main support for her siblings. “He’s your dad too?”
“No, Jacqueline and Stefán were long divorced by then,” Ísa clarified. “Catie’s father is a smooth-talking idiot named Clive. He deliberately turns off his phone when he just can’t be bothered. I swear to God, if I could microchip him, I would.”
“Remind me never to get on your bad side.” Sailor braced his hands on the arms of her outdoor chair. “You’re cute but ferocious.”
“Grr.”
Shoulders shaking as her eyes danced on that mock growl, he snuck in a kiss before going into the apartment. When he returned, it was with a girly cocktail in hand, the color a lush pink. He’d even managed to find a tiny toothpick umbrella to stick in it.
“Here,” he said. “Nothing fancy. Just a frozen cocktail mix that I keep for when my mom visits.”
* * *
HE KEPT ON DOING THAT. Kept on doing things that made her happy.
Accepting the drink with a feeling of falling deeper into a dangerous hole, Ísa took a cautious sip. Cold and sweet and tart, the flavors exploded on her tongue. She’d have told him it was delicious regardless, she was so undone by the way he kept giving her the TLC he’d promised, but now she didn’t have to.
“I love raspberry daiquiris,” she said and was rewarded with a pleased grin from where he stood by the grill, carefully flipping the fish fillets.
He looked so good standing there against the backdrop of the night, dressed in comfortable clothes. And she felt so good sitting there, the two of them just relaxing after a long day at work. It was a flash-fire moment, her dreams colliding with her reality.
Be in this moment, she whispered to herself. Don’t fear the heartbreak to come.
“I can tell it’s not very alcoholic,” she said when her throat threatened to close up. “That’s good, because I’m a bit of a cheap drunk.”
A deep chuckle. “Now I want to see you being all drunk and adorable.”
“The night is young.” Feeling silly and young, Ísa pretended to open up the cocktail umbrella and use it as a parasol.
Sailor grinned, and they talked about this and that as the food finished cooking.
She discovered that his elder brother was Gabriel Bishop, a gray-eyed force of nature who was the most worshipped rugby player in the country. Both his younger brothers were also aiming for a professional rugby career.
“I’m the black sheep,” Sailor said with an unrepentant grin. “I just play for fun. There has been talk of disowning me.”
Compelled by this new glimpse into what was clearly a very close-knit family, Ísa asked more questions as they sat down to dinner. He asked some in turn. She couldn’t remember time ever moving so fast, but they’d finished dinner before she knew it.
“I’ll get dessert,” Sailor said.
But rather than the cheesecake she’d picked up, he put a perfectly decorated miniature cake in front of her, the frosting dusted with sparkles. “There’s a café/cake shop real close to my parents’ house. I saw this in the window and thought of you.”
That said a lot about his curvy spitfire.
Her phone rang again just as she’d parted her mouth to speak, the ringtone a generic one. Ísa glanced at the screen. “It’s Oliver, my mother’s current husband.”
Lifting the phone to her ear on that mystified statement, she answered in front of Sailor. “Oliver, hello.” Then, “What?” in pure astonishment. “You know I don’t have that kind of influence on her.” She listened for a while. “Oh, I’m sorry. Look, I’ll try, okay? Can’t promise anything though.”
Hanging up, she blew out a breath. “I have to make a call. Is there any point in my going to the balcony?”
“Nope. You want to go in my bedroom? The sheets are still messy from this morning,” he said in deliberate provocation. “Hot dreams about a hot redhead.”
Color on her cheekbones, but she held her ground. “Probably matches my bed. I took off my pj’s in the middle of the night, I got so hot. Nude sleeping apparently has a lot of health benefits.”
“Oh, I know, spitfire,” Sailor drawled. “I don’t own pj’s.”
Her pupils dilated, her breath catching.
And Sailor’s body began to push for hard, dirty, physical TLC.
21
Knight in Gardening Armor
SAILOR GRIPPED THE EDGE OF the counter and tried to count to a hundred to get his erection under control while, across from him, his wicked little playmate made her call. Her voice, he was pleased to note, was breathy, the pulse in her throat moving too fast.
“Mom,” she was saying, “Oliver cooked you an anniversary dinner, even timed it for your usual late finish. You know this is a big deal for him. Go home.” A long pause before she said, “Shall I order the divorce cake now? Chocolate or red velvet?”
When she hung up a few seconds later without further words, Sailor figured Jacqueline had decided to go have dinner with her husband. “Does that kind of thing happen often?” he asked as he walked out to the grill to put on the fish.
“That’s a new one.” Ísa leaned in the doorway of the balcony, and it felt intimately comfortable—as if they’d been doing this forever.
As if he knew her bone deep.
Yeah, Sailor wasn’t stupid. This, what they had, it was something special. He’d do whatever it took to convince his redhead to stick with him. Even if meant using his manly wiles and body to confuse her every time she thought of a good reason why they weren’t suited.
“Poor Oliver,” she said with a shake of her head. “It’s like a marriage between a befuddled puppy and a barracuda.”
Her phone rang for the third time before Sailor could reply.
Worry swept over Ísa’s features like a tidal wave. “My sister’s a texter except when there’s a problem.” She lifted the phone to her ear. “Catiebug?” Her body straightened. “Catie, honey what’s the matter? Is it—” A pause. “Yes, I’ll do it now.”
Shoving a hand through her hair after hanging up, she paced back to the counter as she made another call. Then it was back to Catie. “Your father’s fine, sweetheart. He must have his phone on silent. The hotel concierge confirmed for me that Clive is on the gaming floor.”
A minute later, she walked out to take a seat on the single chair he had on the other side of his postage-stamp-sized space. “Sorry about that,” she said, her arm hooked over the back of the chair. “Catie heard about a Kiwi man of her dad’s age getting mugged at the hotel where he’s staying and panicked.”
Yet instead of calling Jacqueline, the other girl had called Ísa. And Ísa had just handled it, was now sitting chatting with him as if the past fifteen minutes hadn’t been extraordinary, as if she hadn’t just put out three emotional fires without blinking.
Sailor was both proud of his redhead and irritated by the other adults in her life who clearly weren’t pulling their weight. From what he’d witnessed so far, it was starting to look like she was the main support for her siblings. “He’s your dad too?”
“No, Jacqueline and Stefán were long divorced by then,” Ísa clarified. “Catie’s father is a smooth-talking idiot named Clive. He deliberately turns off his phone when he just can’t be bothered. I swear to God, if I could microchip him, I would.”
“Remind me never to get on your bad side.” Sailor braced his hands on the arms of her outdoor chair. “You’re cute but ferocious.”
“Grr.”
Shoulders shaking as her eyes danced on that mock growl, he snuck in a kiss before going into the apartment. When he returned, it was with a girly cocktail in hand, the color a lush pink. He’d even managed to find a tiny toothpick umbrella to stick in it.
“Here,” he said. “Nothing fancy. Just a frozen cocktail mix that I keep for when my mom visits.”
* * *
HE KEPT ON DOING THAT. Kept on doing things that made her happy.
Accepting the drink with a feeling of falling deeper into a dangerous hole, Ísa took a cautious sip. Cold and sweet and tart, the flavors exploded on her tongue. She’d have told him it was delicious regardless, she was so undone by the way he kept giving her the TLC he’d promised, but now she didn’t have to.
“I love raspberry daiquiris,” she said and was rewarded with a pleased grin from where he stood by the grill, carefully flipping the fish fillets.
He looked so good standing there against the backdrop of the night, dressed in comfortable clothes. And she felt so good sitting there, the two of them just relaxing after a long day at work. It was a flash-fire moment, her dreams colliding with her reality.
Be in this moment, she whispered to herself. Don’t fear the heartbreak to come.
“I can tell it’s not very alcoholic,” she said when her throat threatened to close up. “That’s good, because I’m a bit of a cheap drunk.”
A deep chuckle. “Now I want to see you being all drunk and adorable.”
“The night is young.” Feeling silly and young, Ísa pretended to open up the cocktail umbrella and use it as a parasol.
Sailor grinned, and they talked about this and that as the food finished cooking.
She discovered that his elder brother was Gabriel Bishop, a gray-eyed force of nature who was the most worshipped rugby player in the country. Both his younger brothers were also aiming for a professional rugby career.
“I’m the black sheep,” Sailor said with an unrepentant grin. “I just play for fun. There has been talk of disowning me.”
Compelled by this new glimpse into what was clearly a very close-knit family, Ísa asked more questions as they sat down to dinner. He asked some in turn. She couldn’t remember time ever moving so fast, but they’d finished dinner before she knew it.
“I’ll get dessert,” Sailor said.
But rather than the cheesecake she’d picked up, he put a perfectly decorated miniature cake in front of her, the frosting dusted with sparkles. “There’s a café/cake shop real close to my parents’ house. I saw this in the window and thought of you.”
