Page 103 of Resisting Isaac
She squints at me. “I’m fine.”
“You sure? Because?—”
Her voice is low and lethal when she interrupts me. “If you say ‘because you’re pregnant,’ I swear I’ll punch you in the throat.”
“We’ve upgraded to threats of violence. Blood sugar is plummeting.” I step closer. Close enough she has to tilt her head to keep glaring at me. “This is not because you’re pregnant. It’s because you’re human. And you had an exhausting weekend and now you’re running yourself into the ground.”
Someone from the crew starts to approach us—clipboard in hand, mouth opening like they’re about to call her back to work.
I don’t even look at them when I growl, “She’s not available right now. Come back in ten.”
They freeze. And back off.
I hand her the water. She snatches it from me like I just insulted her. Glares like she wants to throw it at my head.
“I’m a grown adult and not your responsibility.”
“I get that.” Part of it anyway. “But you’re running on fumes and it’s okay to need breaks.”
She goes still. “It’s not your job to fix me, Isaac.”
I hook my fingers under her elbow, guiding her to the shady bench beneath the old oak tree, out of view of the production crew.
“Good. Because I like you the way you are. Mean and mouthy and spitting fire at me.”
She huffs out a scoffing sound but the edge in her posture melts just a little. She sits. Nibbles the protein bar begrudgingly.
“You ever hear of a cowboy nap?”
She angles her head away from me. “A what?”
I take my flannel off, set it on the tree roots, remove my hat, and lie down on my back. Then I place my hat over my face before folding my arms and crossing my ankles.
“Cowboy nap,” I say, my voice muffled from underneath my hat.
She laughs and I move my hat so I can see her smile. I sit up in front of her, forearms resting on my thighs. “You’re allowed to rest.”
She doesn’t answer. Just chews slowly, eyes trained on anything but me.
But when I move to stand, she snags my sleeve.
“Don’t go far,” she says under her breath. “I’m in a mood and might hate everyone else today.”
I grin. “I’m starting to see why you and Sophia the hen get along so well.”
Birds of a feather those two.
She throws her water bottle at me as I head to the stables. I catch it easily and her eyes go wide.
“High school quarterback, sweetheart. Throw anything at me you want to.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
elena
The scene is supposed to be a quiet morning on the ranch. Sunrise. Coffee in hand. Longing glances across a dusty paddock. That’s what’s in the script, anyway.
Instead, it’s nearing sunset when chaos breaks out.
