Page 17 of More Than Words

“Why not?” I laughed at the confused expression on her face. “They’re easy to school at cards.”

“So, let me get this straight. You regularly seek out the elderly to take advantage of them at card games? Wow.” At this point, I wasn’t sure how anything I said still surprised her. Or that she took any of it seriously.

“Nah, they usually end up wiping the floor with me. Those old dudes cheat like crazy.” Pop’s crew ran the bridge league and the older people’s poker ring in the neighborhood without mercy. Not only did they trash talk, but they had decades of experience and were brutal with their strategy. It also didn’t hurt that their poker faces were exceptional because they’d spent years exaggerating the stories of their youth and were expert liars.

“That’s kind of cute. You play cards with the elderly. I wasn’t aware you possessed compassion toward a marginalized demographic.”

I knew she was making a dig at my comments about her authors—and the romance genre in general—but I had to be prepared to take the backlash when I said something offensive.

“You’d be surprised about what else I possess.”

She rolled her eyes, peeling off her socks and tucking them inside her shoes. “Of course, you’re talking about your dick again.”

“I wasn’t, but clearly, you’ve been thinking about it. You keep bringing it up.” In more than just conversation.

“Shut up,” she growled while I squinted at the hint of a tattoo on her ankle that peaked from beneath the hem of her pants. How had I never noticed that before? If she wouldn’t smack me, I’d roll her pants up more, so I could read the text disappearing beneath them. And maybe trace it…with my tongue.

“You’re seriously doing this?” I asked, mildly concerned for the well-being of her feet, but she clearly didn’t care for my opinion. I hadn’t been joking when I’d told her the water would be frigid. I’d done enough polar plunges in my time to know the Atlantic during the spring was brutal. And February was practically arctic.

“Come on, join me,” she urged as she extended her palm toward me. “Maybe dipping your toes in freezing water will short circuit your brain, and you’ll stop being a dickhead all the time.”

Chuckling, I reached down to untie my shoes and pull them off with my socks. She was trying to hide a smile as she watched me. “If you’re that desperate to hold my hand, I’ll join you, but I’m not carrying you back when your feet hurt.”

“I’d never expect you to be a gentleman. Don’t worry about that,” she shot back, her eyes dancing with humor.

“Oh, she’s got jokes,” I laughed, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the waterline—the feeling of the stones under my feet was like freezing little pricks against my skin. “We’ll see how much you’re laughing in a minute.”

Isobel’s giggle as I tugged her forward was infectious, and I found myself laughing while I watched her reaction when our toes hit the water. “Oh, fuck!” she shrieked, reaching out to cling to my shoulders. “It’s so cold! Oh my God, it hurts!”

Chuckling, I reached forward and grasped her waist, lifted her to my chest and banded my arms around her thighs before I walked back toward the rock where we’d left our shoes. “Happy now?”

“Oh, come on,” she giggled as she looked down at me. “You barely got your feet wet.”

“Just put your shoes on. We’ve only got an hour before we need to get changed.”

Isobel pouted as I leaned forward, depositing her on the ground next to our shoes. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she laughed, her hand grasping the side of my neck. Before I could react, she’d run her fingers up the back of my neck and ruffled my hair. “I forgot you’d need time for your beauty routine.”

Deciding to call her bluff, I left my hair in the chaotic mess she’d created, reaching down to unroll the denim at my ankles.

“Oh no, I made him mad,” she laughed while she tugged her socks over her wet feet, wincing as she rubbed her cold toes.

“Sit down,” I ordered, shoving my socked feet into my shoes and gesturing to a boulder on the shore behind her.

“What? Why?” she asked, picking up her shoes. I grabbed them from her and stepped forward, causing her to back into the rock, her eyes widening as she looked up at me.

“Just sit.”

She stumbled backward, bracing her arms on the rock behind her while I crouched down at her feet. “What are you doing?”

“Taking care of you.” Reaching forward to cup one of her feet, I slowly righted the damp sock on her foot and rubbed her toes with my much warmer hands. She’d survive, but I was sure she was feeling the sting of the frigid water. Normally I wouldn’t advocate hiking in wet socks, but it wasn’t like she’d left us with an option. Thankfully, the trail was on the short side and would dump us back on the other side of the hotel parking lot.

“You don’t need to…oh…” she gasped as I did the same to her other foot, leaning forward to exhale a stream of hot air at the tips of her covered toes before rubbing them with my palms.

“Don’t need you slowing us down if I’m going to do something to this mess,” I chuckled, gesturing to the riot of hair on top of my head and reaching for one of her shoes.

She watched with wide eyes while I slipped on her other shoe and quickly tied the laces, reaching out to extend my hand in her direction.

Her gaze softened when she leaned forward, drawing her fingers through my disheveled hair and slowly combing the strands back into place.

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