Page 43 of Lovingly Restored

Moments later, I’ve got my robe and towel in hand, heading for the bathroom when a car slowing along the curb outside catches my eye. Isaac’s dad. He’s shown up like this before to visit his mother, but not with his son and I in our jammies. Usually, Isaac is tucked in the workshop or gone from the house entirely. I hastily shove my arms in the robe and tie it tight around my waist.

I pop my head into the kitchen, “Put some damn clothes on,” I hiss.

“I am wearing clothes.” He gestures to his pyjama pants.

“More clothes. Your dad is here.”

A flash of anger or annoyance, I’m not sure which, fills his eyes.

“What do you want me to do? Wrap myself in aprons?”

I roll my eyes at the image and sigh. “I just want everything to seem professional.”

“Everythingisprofessional, Ash. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

Then why does it feel that way? I’m so worried that the second Isaac’s dad comes in here, he’s going to know exactly what is going on between us. Guilt washes over me, but I breathe it away. Isaac is not my boss, and we’re two consenting adults. Besides, it’s only casual. It’s not like I’m shacking up with him forever or something.

The staircase creaks.

“If you want to forget about…us, we can do that.” He tugs on the back of his neck. “The last thing I want is to make your job harder.”

My shoulders are creeping up around my ears. I’m going to need another massage. Isaac’s suggestion of us forgetting about each other sounds ten times worse than Mr. Lauri’s judgement.

“I don’t want to see him. It’s complicated between us. Can you distract him for a minute for me?” His blue eyes are pleading.

Fantastic. That’s an unanticipated twist in the family dynamic. I love blending together datingandmessy father-son relationships with my work.

“He knows you’re living here…right?”

Oh my god. Have I unknowingly been keeping a secret from my boss?

I take another peek at his bare chest and the muscles wrapping around his ribs. That heat in his eyes says, ‘the last thing I want is to forget about you.’

“He knows. And he hates it.”

I’ll unpack that later.

Mummo scoffs, “Too bad for him this ismyhouse.”

The front door swings open, so I step out of the kitchen, leaving Isaac and his grandmother there.

“Good morning, Mr. Lauri.” I clutch at the front of my robe in feigned modesty.

He doesn’t return my greeting. “I thought everyone would be up by now.”

Weareup. Does he think I’m talking to him while I’m sleepwalking?

“Finishing up breakfast now.”

“Seems late.”

“Nope, right on time.” I work to keep my eyes centred in their sockets.

“I’ll join my mother while she eats then.”

There are only two ways out of the kitchen. Through the door right next to me, or out into the yard.

“Um, wait!” I scan the room, looking for inspiration.

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