“I should take you to the store I bought the tea from. It’s cute.”
Over the rim of her mug, she gave me an incredulous look that she quickly dropped back to the tea. “Cute, huh?”
Like you. It’s warm and rustic, and it has charm coming out of its ears. “Cute,” I echoed simply.
Isla set down her mug and pulled her hair over her shoulder so she could braid it. “Well, I just wanted to come back out to thank you. And say goodnight.”
I nodded, watching her fingers with unabashed interest. “Sure.”
“I, uh, I tend to forget that I have money now. It makes me feel kind of icky,” she admitted with a scrunch of her nose. “Seeing as my mom gave me away and basically wished I didn’t exist.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” I murmured.
She shrugged, finishing the braid and leaving it over her shoulder. “Well, anyway, I can pay you rent and help with utilities while I’m here. And I’ll take rideshares and stuff if I need to go somewhere.” She was averting her gaze, and I knew it was because I had hurt her. I’d kissed her, I’d told her I wanted to do it again, and then I’d brushed her aside. Fuck.
“I don’t want you to pay me,” I countered with a dose of amusement. “It’s my fault you have to be here in the first place.”
“Only a bit,” she admitted stiffly. She ran her finger around the rim of the mug idly. “I’m sure all this craziness will die down soon.”
“I’m sure it will,” I agreed quietly.
She lifted her lashes to hook me with an amber gaze that glittered gold in the warm kitchen lights. “I’ll go back to Seattle as soon as Tristan is back.”
That was a perfectly logical thing for her to do. And I hated it. “Right.”
“Thanks for letting me stay in the meantime,” she finished, looking down the hall to her room.
“Sure,” I replied mildly. Why does this feel so horrible? Why do I feel like shit right now? What I said to Starla is true—Isla is not for me. There are a hundred reasons why. But those reasons were like chalk drawings in the rain, melting and dripping away into gibberish.
She stood up from the chair, pushed her mug away, and gave me a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. Suddenly her eyelids folded over her eyes as they rolled back in her head. She crumpled on the spot.
“Fuck.” I surged forward, barely managing to catch her before her forehead smacked the corner of the island. I pulled her into me, adjusting her weight and clamping her against my body with an iron grip. That had been a close call. My eyes jumped over all the sharp angles in the kitchen. The useless decorative things made of breakable material. The tripping hazards. Isla didn’t want me to freak out when she had a fainting episode, but I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to relax if I thought she was going to biff it face-first into a vase.
Her head had fallen heavily against my chest, and as she came to, she shuffled her feet under her and blinked a few times to wake herself up. She still smelled like strawberry shampoo and her body felt so soft and pliable in my arms. One kiss, and I was starting to lose my sanity over this woman. It made no sense.
Isla squinted up at me. “Did I break anything?”
“You mean my house, or you?” I teased, moving my hands to her arms to steady her while she found her balance.
A reluctant smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. “I should have meant me, probably.”
“Probably,” I agreed with chagrined amusement.
She looked around. “You caught me again.”
“Shouldn’t I?” I challenged.
“Robert never makes it to me in time,” she admitted. “He says he has bad reflexes.”
I’ll give him a bad reflex, I thought darkly. But I kept my features unaffected and said easily, “Good thing I’m your roommate now. My reflexes are the shit.”
Like she didn’t want to, but it had escaped her anyway, she let out a breathy laugh. “Unmatched only by your humility.”
“My humility is the shit, too,” I grinned.
Isla folded her arms over her goofy T-shirt. “I’ll give your terrible manners a pass because you saved me from a bloody nose.”
More like stitches to your forehead, I thought with a squeeze of fear. “What is one pass worth?”