Page 115 of Surfer's Paradise

She had no answer as she watched him disappear into his bedroom, pulling his uniform shirt over his head. Within minutes, Isaac emerged from his bedroom, freshly showered, barefoot, in a worn t-shirt and athletic shorts, still rubbing a towel over his damp hair as he stepped into the kitchen.

Rosie watched from her spot on the couch, tucked into the corner of the sectional, legs curled under her.

She was pretending to be absorbed in the TV, but really, she was watching him.

Watching as he lifted the lid on the one-pot pasta she’d made earlier, inhaling deeply, groaning in approval.

“When did you become so domestic, Coco,” he muttered, grabbing a bowl and serving himself a heaping portion.

Tomatoes, spinach, chicken, pasta, all wrapped up in a creamy, garlicky sauce.

She knew it was good.

She’d already had two bowls.

Isaac plopped down on the opposite end of the sectional, balancing the bowl in one hand, digging in immediately.

The first bite barely had time to hit his tongue before he let out a deep, satisfied groan.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he said around a mouthful. “Maybe I will keep you.”

Rosie smirked, watching as he practically inhaled it.

“You eat like you’ve been starved for days.”

Isaac just pointed his fork at her, still chewing. “You ever try MREs? This is a goddamn luxury.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head, watching as he continued to shovel it in, barely pausing to breathe.

When he was finally done, he set his empty bowl aside, leaning back against the couch, stretching his arms over the back of it, looking like he could pass out.

Rosie shifted slightly, folding her arms over her stomach.

The silence stretched between them.

And then, finally, she broke it.

“So…” she started slowly. “Are we going to have that conversation now?”

Isaac tilted his head slightly, dark eyes locking onto hers, a slow, knowing smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

Except—

He still looked hungry.

And not for food.

His gaze dragged over her, lazily, appreciatively, like he was savoring every inch.

Rosie’s stomach tightened.

Isaac hummed, shifting slightly, the muscles in his thick thighs flexing under the fabric of his shorts.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice dropping a notch. “But with you sitting in my lap.”

Rosie rolled her eyes immediately.

“Not a chance.”

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