Page 29 of Rumor Has It

“Your family.”

“Not me this time,” I confirm.

I feel Isaiah at my back and a telltale tingle at my core.

“No you. I very much want to take advantage of you again. If you’ll let me.”

I turn, caged in by the lithe man in a watermelon pink tee that sets off his brown eyes. When I look down at his heart, the scrollwork “K” that’s the symbol for the estate gives me the kind of thrill a girl shouldn’t read into. The kind I need to ignore because it’s lying to me about how this guy could bethe one.

In the daylight, I’m kicking myself for being forthright about my reasons for not leaving the ranch. The topic is irrelevant and not anything worth sharing. I don’t need anyone’s pity or their sarcasm. I could have gone to cooking school the same way that Rhiannon went to art school. No one forced me to stay. It was my choice to dabble with my favorites from Benita’s box of recipes, and under the tutelage of the banquet hall’s original head chef, I was content with the decision to forgo a formal education, and I’m still comfortable with it now.

Not to mention, everyone who leaves comes back. My daddy might’ve thought he was stuck here after his accident, but in the end, he even conceded that Kingsbrier is in his blood and where he wanted to raise his family. So, if this place is a magnet for my kin, there’s no real reason to leave, anyway.

Besides, Isaiah Roomer, the country singer, is about to go on tour. Between his writing sessions and me letting him in my pants, Isaiah has gotten all he needs from this patch of earth. He’s not staying. Which means I shouldn’t, make thatcouldn’t,care less what Isaiah thinks about my silly little career or my choice to stay safely ensconced in a world everyone else wants to escape to on their vacation.

He bends to kiss me, but I press a fingertip to his breastbone and duck out of the way.

“You’re going to be late.” I say, pushing the ugly thoughts out of my mind.

Isaiah steps back and I stuff his souvenirs into a wine carry bag. He insists on carrying it on the short walk to my aunt and uncle’s house.

I’m not sure why I put up a fight about that kiss. All I know is every time I think about Monty coming to pick Isaiah up my chest constricts.

It’s as if my vacation is ending too soon, even though I have plenty of days off left without Isaiah here. After Christmas Day, I’ll need to fill them with something, so I’m not wandering the halls aimlessly.

We’re quiet approaching the Victorian. A sense of loss overtakes the fun we had. The ensuing silence is uncomfortable. I worry Isaiah is reacting to me. I’m making it awkward.

Way to go Cassidy.I think.Is this how you want a superstar remembering you?

Moreover, is this how I want to remember Isaiah—with me blowing the final minutes we have together because I was too immature to act adult about the whole affair?

Ugh.Affair.

Does that describe what this is? Is Isaiah a widower putting on his training wheels for rebound sex before attempting a new relationship?

Or worse, did I accept the crumbs a man was willing to offer?

Oh, hell. I can’t begin to wrap my brain around that.

I reach for the knob.

Isaiah covers my hand. “Are you free later?” he asks earnestly.

“No.”

“Oh.” His voice drops.

“It’s Christmas Eve Eve. There are a lot of boxes that have to come down from the attic and I drew the short straw.”

“Maybe an extra set of muscles would help it go quicker?”

I lick my lip and peer up. Isaiah has a tentative smile, and he’s just so handsome that I can’t see a reason to say no.

The door flies open, breaking the spell, and I jump back.

“Was it locked?” Aunt Daveigh’s brows cross.

“Oh,ah, no.” I stumble over the threshold.

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