Page 5 of Surfer's Paradise

Rosie’s pulse kicked up.

Please don’t. Please don’t.

But of course he did.

“There you are,” Isaac said, that familiar rasp threading through his voice. “It’s been awhile.”

Rosie didn’t respond.

She didn’t have to.

Because Vlado was already shifting, squaring his shoulders, blocking the space between them.

He took a sip of his drink, then turned slightly toward Isaac, his expression unreadable, but his posture? Clear as hell.

Isaac’s lips curved—just a little, just enough to say Really? We’re doing this?

Rosie’s stomach twisted.

Vlado finally spoke. “Friend of yours?”

Isaac’s head tilted, a flicker of amusement in his gaze. “Something like that.”

Vlado’s lips pressed together, as if assessing, weighing the situation.

He shifted toward Rosie, slow and deliberate, like he was staking a claim. “We were just about to go,” he said, his tone casual, but not casual at all.

“Didn’t think this was your type of place,” she finally got out.

Isaac gave a lazy shrug. “Didn’t think it was yours either. Yet here we are.”

Her fingers tightened around her glass.

Vlado let out a low, knowing hum, turning back to her. “How about another drink?”

“Another?” She asked.

Isaac’s eyes flicked to the barely touched cocktail in front of her, then back to her face. A slow smirk. “Yeah, Rosie. You should.”

She swallowed hard.

It wasn’t a suggestion.

It was a challenge.

Something about the way Isaac said her name made her whole body lock up. Vlado caught it—she knew he did. His arm brushed against hers, barely there, but deliberate.

And Isaac?

He saw it.

The smirk didn’t drop, but the light in his eyes sharpened.

The weight between them became unbearable.

Rosie needed out.

And then—thank God—Vlado got distracted. His gaze flickered past Isaac, landing on something more interesting. A woman in a sleek blazer, red lipstick sharp, giving him an idle once-over as she walked by.

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