Page 22 of Isabella and the Slipper

“Okay.”

When she arrived at work, Leilani pulled her aside. “We’ve sold three paintings today, and Elenore wants the showrooms rearranged to fill the holes. Also, those paintings need to be taken off the website, and Elenore wants you to wash the windows before you leave.”Leilani gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

Isabella sighed. “I’ll get started on it.”

It took her until seven o’clock to stage the showrooms and remove the paintings from the website. She had no time to wash the windows, but if she ignored Elenore’s commands, she knew she could get her full wrath. She quickly grabbed a cloth and the cleaner and sprayed them down.

By the time she made it home, she was twenty minutes late for Chase’s house. She didn’t have time to eat. She ran up the stairs, passing Delilah on the way. Delilah gave her a weird look but didn’t say anything. Isabella locked her bedroom door, then climbed down the side of the house and ran the few blocks to meet with Chase.

She rang the doorbell and tried to catch her breath. Chase opened the door, an annoyed frown on his face, but when he saw her, the look disappeared. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry I’m late,” she said between breaths. “Work took a little longer than I thought.”

He leaned closer and peered at her face. “Are you okay?”

She wasn’t. But she forced a smile. “Fine.”

He looked skeptical but stepped outside, shut the door, and changed the subject. “Let’s try the hardware store first. I know they have the wire we’ll need.”

Glad to be out from under his scrutiny, she relaxed. “Okay.”

He opened the passenger door for her. Something about being in his Mustang made her extra nervous. He started up the engine, and she gave him a tentative smile. “Nice car.”

He grinned, his dimple showing. “Thanks. This was my splurge after I got paid for my last movie.”

She watched him as he drove. He exuded confidence. There was no trace of the uncertainty he’d confessed to Five. He held the steering wheel with one hand on top, the other relaxed on the seat beside her. He glanced at her. “What kind of music do you like?”

She almost said “The Beatles,” but stopped herself. “All kinds.”

“Heavy metal?”

She made a face, and he laughed. “Okay, I guess that’s a no. What about country?”

“I can tolerate it.”

He frowned at her. “I can tolerate a lot of things, too. I asked what you liked.”

She shrugged, backed into a corner. “I like the old classics. Buddy Holly, The Monkees, and stuff like that.”

“Awesome,” he said under his breath as he took a corner. “I love that, too. In fact ...” He pulled out his phone and tossed it at her. “The Beatles are my favorite.”

His phone felt hot in her hands. She pretended to admire his phone case, then handed it back to him. “Cool.”

The wind whipped through her hair as he drove. Dusk had settled in, and street lamps were lighting. Chase pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine. “I’ll get your door,” he said as he climbed out.

She felt awkward letting him open her door but didn’t say anything. He held out his hand to help her up, and she grasped it. A current passed between them, sending tingles up her arm. Her stomach fluttered. Chase lifted an eyebrow and smiled at her. She wondered if he felt it, too.

They walked the aisles, grabbing what they needed for the engine. Chase picked up a piece of sandpaper and nudged her. “I once was attacked by a guy with sandpaper.”

“Seriously? Were you hurt?”

He grinned, and his dimple showed. “No, just roughed up a bit.”

She laughed and fake-punched him in the arm. “Are you sure you’re not related to Mr.Morgan? You inherited his cheesy jokes.”

They finished shopping, and chatted on their way to the checkout counter. She found herself enjoying her time with him.

As they were checking out, Chase added a package of Skittles to the mix. He pointed to them. “I thought we could use a snack.”

---