Page 116 of Lassoed Love

Smartass. I shoot a teasing glare, shaking my head.

Connecting my phone to the speaker on the kitchen bench, I ask, “What are you in the mood for?”

She purses her lips in thought and then replies with a smile, “Doyou want my honest answer or what you want to hear?”

I raise my brow, fully aware she’s about to suggest something rock. While I enjoy that, I think something a bit more mellow might be suitable.

“Play whatever you like, I don’t mind,” she says softly. So, I search for an artist and end up shuffling Morgan Wallen’s essentials playlist. ‘Cover Me Up’ starts playing, instantly filling the room.

“Oh, I love this song.”

Well, that settles it. I walk back over, taking my seat beside her.

As Isla scoops a generous portion of spaghetti onto our plates, a portion that satisfies my appetite, I lift my fork, twirling the pasta, and shoot her a grateful look.

“Impressive, Doc. Let’s see if it tastes as good as it looks.”

She smiles, saying, “I added a little twist to it. It’s my mum’s recipe—she uses carrots and ground cumin. It used to be my favourite dish ever... apart from her apple pies,” she says with a genuine smile. Taking the first bite, the flavours explode on my palate—a perfect blend of savoury and comforting. Isla watches with anticipation, and I can't help but be genuinely impressed.

“Holy shit, this is good,” I exclaim. “I think this is my new favourite dish,” I say casually, shooting her a wink.

“Oh, bullshit,” she laughs. “You’re just saying that.”

“Nah, I’m being serious. This is fucking amazing. Sorry, but I think you’re going to have to cook this for me for the rest of my life,” I drawl.

Isla just looks at me, something flickering in her eyes. That had justcome out so naturally, I didn’t even think about it.

“Oh, am I, huh?” she retorts back. She’s flirting. She’s flirting back, right? Fuck yes.

“Yeah, you are,” I narrow my eyes as the air around us becomes more intense. “You up for the challenge?” I say, leaning in closer, resting on my elbows.

She holds my gaze, a playful glint in her eyes. “Hm, I suppose I can manage that. Cooking for you for the rest of your life, huh?” Her tone is teasing, and the atmosphere between us is charged with a newfound energy.

I match her playfulness. “I’m warning you, it might be a lifetime commitment. Can you handle it?”

I wink, keeping the banter light, but beneath the words, there’s a layer of something more significant. It’s a dance, a delicate step forward in this evolving connection.

Isla smirks, the corner of her lips curving mischievously. “Challenge accepted, cowboy.” The nickname rolls off her tongue with a hint of affection. It’s an unspoken agreement, a silent acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, this could be the beginning of something more.

Two beers down, and Isla’s on her second glass of Moscato. We’re having a great time, catching up, talking about work, and sharing laughs about Luna and Buddy, who are now comfortably sprawled out at our feet. They were barking at the door earlier, so I let them join us. The background music is playing Chris Stapleton’s ‘Tennessee Whiskey’ now—a pleasant surprise to the playlist. The atmosphereis easygoing, and the air is filled with a subtle charge.

Isla’s is now sporting a rosy hue on her cheeks, probably from the Moscato. Me? I’m feeling pretty good, just a light buzz from the beers. The vibe between us has shifted, becoming more intimate. I can't help but gaze at her as the lyrics of the song fill the room.

The atmosphere around us is laced with a mix of nostalgia and something unspoken. Isla's laughter rings through the room, a melodic harmony to the music playing softly. The dogs, Luna and Buddy, lay contentedly at our feet, adding to the domestic scene.

I take a sip of my beer, catching her gaze. “You know, these dogs—” I nod towards the two furry companions, “they really hit it off. Just like us, huh?”

Isla raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk on her lips. “Hit it off? If I recall correctly, it was more like you begging me to go on ‘one’ date.”

I chuckle at this. “And did you say no?” I question, taunting her.

“Well, I reluctantly agreed, and you promised you’d leave me alone,” she retorts with a raised brow.

“Ah, hate to break it to you, but I lied,” I drawl, leaning in closer, eyes narrowed. “It was never going to be just ‘one’ date,” I say, my voice low, and I can just make out the shiver coursing through her body.

Isla’s eyes reflect disbelief, a frown forming on her face as she questions, “Why, Xavier?”

“Why, what?”

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