Page 18 of The Scout

The streets blurred as we walked, the city waking up around us. A few vendors were setting up for the day, the scent of fresh bread and strong coffee weaving through the early morning air. Charleston had its own rhythm, one that moved at a different pace than the rest of the world.

Isabel barely noticed any of it.

She was too busy being irritated with me.

I took my time watching her as we moved, cataloging every reaction, every flicker of emotion that crossed her face. She was quick with her words, fast to snap back, but the thing she hadn’t realized yet was that I liked it.

I liked that she wasn’t afraid to push.

That she wasn’t afraid of me.

She should be.

The hotel came into view before she even realized how far we’d walked. I saw it the moment it clicked—how her gaze flickered to the entrance, then back to me, her lips parting slightly.

She barely remembered getting here.

That was what I was good at.

She turned toward me slowly, her expression guarded. “Did you?—”

I raised an eyebrow. “Walk you to work?”

Her jaw tightened. “Manipulate me into walking here without realizing it?”

I smirked. “Same thing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s?—”

“Dangerous?” I supplied.

She exhaled sharply. “Annoying.”

I chuckled, stepping back slightly, giving her space. “Go to work, Isabel.”

She didn’t move right away. Just stared at me, her lips pressing together like she was fighting the urge to say something she shouldn’t.

I leaned in slightly, voice dropping lower. “We’ll talk later.”

She rolled her eyes, but I didn’t miss the way her breath hitched slightly before she turned and stalked toward the entrance.

I watched her go.

I should have left. Should have turned and walked the other way.

But I didn’t.

I stood there, sipping my coffee, watching the way she disappeared into the building.

And I waited.

Because I was good at that, too.

7

ISABEL

Ryker had walked me to work.Huh.

---