“It’s not even six yet,” Isobel said, jarring me from my thoughts of how best to hide my erection.
I glanced her way and lifted my eyebrows. “What?”
She flushed and waved a hand. “It’s still over three hours until you’re supposed to start work, but it’d be counterproductive for you to walk all the way home. You’d just have to turn around and start right back once you reached your door.”
“Oh…. Yeah. I hadn’t thought of that.” Actually, I had. I’d been hoping to sneak inside her house and find some place to nap until nine. But now that she’d realized the time discrepancy, I wasn’t so sure I could sneak a nap anywhere.
I couldn’t be too upset about my ruined plans, though. I was a little too pleased she’d considered my situation enough to realize my dilemma. How very thoughtful of her.
I liked being on her mind.
“I bet my dad would be fine with you leaving at two today if you want to start work at six.”
“You think?” I liked how she wanted to help me.
She nodded. “And tomorrow…I mean, if you still want to keep running, I can wait until seven. Then you could work from eight to four.”
And I liked how she was willing to readjust her own schedule to fit me into her plans.
I liked all of this new side to Isobel, actually. Once she dropped the bitterness, she could be extremely nice. She was quite the dichotomy.
Flashing her a roguish grin, I couldn’t help but tease. “So you’ve decided I make an acceptable enough exercise companion, huh?”
Her eyes went wide and she turned her face away before murmuring, “You’ll do.”
For Isobel, I considered those two words to be an endorsement for sainthood. It was a far cry from who’s the idiot in my rose garden. Actually, it was hard for me to register this as the same woman who’d chastised me for trying to steal a flower from her.
I sent her a sideways glance. Since the sun was up, I saw her better. And damn, she looked fit and adorably sexy in the black yoga pants, long-sleeved running top and perky ponytail. She walked on my right so I couldn’t see her scars from this angle, and it made me wonder if she’d done that on purpose. She did that a lot, I realized, sneakily maneuvering herself to keep them hidden.
I wanted to be insulted. I mean, did she really think I would treat her any differently because of them? But honestly, I got it.
Everyone had issues about themselves, parts they thought were ugly or humiliating, and aspects they wanted to hide away because those things made them feel vulnerable. People didn’t generally let others see their vulnerable parts until they felt safe. You never knew if someone else would be disgusted, or think less of you, or if they’d use your weakness as leverage to hurt you. It was purely human nature and self-preservation to vet a person first before letting them prove to you that you could trust them enough to see if they’d continue to like you in spite of, or even better, because of your flaws.
So it must suck that the most vulnerable part of Isobel was right out in the open, on display for everyone to see. She didn’t get to decide who saw her—well, I guess that wasn’t true. She’d become a hermit to keep most everyone away. But the point was, having something she clearly didn’t like about herself on full display took away a lot of that control and self-preservation. And it seemed to make her want to close other parts of herself away even tighter.
Which only made me more determined to gain her favor. One day, she’d look me straight in the eye without ever worrying about hiding anything. That was my goal.
“Here,” she murmured, motioning in front of us.
I looked up, paying attention to where we were going, only to slow to a stunned halt. I didn’t know why anything about Porter Hall should surprise me anymore, but this…this shocked the shit out of me.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me?” I blurted.
We’d just cleared the gravel path through the trees that led from the pond, only to step into an entirely new world. The pool…okay, the pool was actually not that impressive. It was smaller than I’d pictured it being and curved into a cute kidney bean shape. It was the pool house that left my jaw dropping. Not that house was an accurate word for the cave in front of me. And I’m talking a real, freaking cave here. They’d amassed an enormous pile of clay boulders, large enough for a small evergreen tree and some plants and bushes to grow up the side, to make the house. A waterfall gushed from over what looked like one entrance into the place with another round tube opening that had to be a slide.
I didn’t know how I never caught sight of this before when I’d been helping Lewis work outside, but shit…I was thinking it was about time to take the full tour of this place.
“There should be towels and toiletries in the bathroom,” Isobel told me as she pushed a button posted on the side of the rock wall.
My eyes grew wide as the wall separated to display the abundance within. It was nothing but rock floors, rock ceilings, rock walls and a rock bar that ran the length of the room. Even the twelve-foot hot tub was made of rock. With a fish tank, television, and fireplace embedded into the far wall, there was still enough room to host a doorway that led into what appeared to be the bedroom.
A gasp of pure awe left me.
“I could live here,” I said, turning to gape at Isobel, wondering why she didn’t live in here. “I mean…can I live here?”
She blinked at me, to which I felt the need to lift my hands and say, “Kidding,” though really, I wasn’t. I could seriously live here. No problem. This place—the entire property of Porter Hall—was pure awesomeness. I was beginning to wonder why Henry Nash was so worried about why his daughter wanted to hang out here all the time. Hell, I wanted to hang out here all the time.
“The bathroom’s in there, through the bedroom,” Isobel said. She suddenly seemed awkward.
I wondered if my amazed gawking at all the splendor made her self-conscious, or if she was coming to realize just how close we’d been standing. She turned her face to the side, hiding her scars. I wanted to tell her to stop, to touch her chin and force her to face me directly.
But she rotated away and left the pool house before I could summon the nerve.
Clearing my throat, I nodded to myself and stepped into the bedroom.
Yep, I could definitely live here. Quite comfortably. The bed was probably a queen size and about twice as wide as the sleeper sofa I’d been using since Mom had moved in with me and taken over my bedroom. A little depressed over the fact I couldn’t sneak in here and take that nap on this bed, I found the bathroom and shook my head.
Again, it was all rock with half the space taken up by a shower full of glass doors and about a dozen different showerheads. I was already drooling for the experience when I shut the door behind me and began to peel off my damp running clothes as fast as I could. I tore off my hat then kicked off my shoes even as I shucked my sweats.
Figuring out how to turn on the various showerheads and control the temperature was a bit of a challenge. I froze my backside, then burned it, before getting things just right. And then…then I just stood there, getting pummeled by what felt like a million miniature wet massages.
“Heaven,” I moaned, lifting my face to one spray. “Oh, God. This is heaven.”
Deciding the stainless steel dispensers hanging from the wall contained the soap and shampoo I needed, I pushed a button and flooded my hand with foamy soap. It smelled woodsy, spicy and masculine. I lathered my body and rinsed. Then, I couldn’t help myself, I soaped up again. It just felt so good. I could shower in here all day.
But it didn’t take me long to remember who I was, and where I was, and what time it was. It’d be six soon, and if I wanted to start my workday at six, I’d better stop using all my employer’s things and get to work.
A little ashamed of myself for dawdling, I rinsed and shut off the water before shaking myself dry. After opening the shower door, I hunted up a towel in the cupboard above the toilet.
On went fresh underwear, socks, and a clean pair of jeans. I’d had a little too much fun with all the hot water, so the room felt like a sauna. I took my work boots and a folded shirt from my backpack before gathering all my running shit and stuffing them inside. Then I opened the door to finish dressing in the less humid bedroom.
No sooner had I snapped the T-shirt open and lifted it above my head to slide it on than Isobel came through the doorway.
“I brought more towels in case there weren’t any—oh!”
Instead of rushing to pull the shirt the rest of the way on, I lowered my arms but kept the shirt stretched across my chest since I’d already shoved my arms into the armholes. Only one shoulder, the tops of my biceps, and the side of my ribs were exposed to her.
That seemed to be enough to make her blush though. She hugged the towels she’d been holding to her chest and blinked at me.
Heat pooled under my freshly washed skin, building deeper, and lower.
“I’m already done,” I said. “And yeah, there were plenty of towels. But thanks.”
She moved her head up and down but didn’t speak. Her eyes seemed stuck on my exposed flesh. My biceps particularly liked the attention. Without my permission, they twitched, not a full-out flex, but not a tiny flinch either. The damn things were definitely showing off, and it was enough to make Isobel jump and realize she’d been gaping. She turned to the side, so she was no longer facing me.
The strange thing was, she turned to the side where I could see her scars on full display, and I had to say, it did my ego good to realize my undressed state had flustered her enough to forget to hide them from me.
“That…” She paused to swallow. “That was fast.”
To me, it had felt like the longest shower I’d ever taken, but I wasn’t going to argue with her. I slipped the shirt on, taking my time and biting back a grin when I caught sight of her turning back to stare again.
“I wasn’t sure how close to six it was,” I said, putting my back to her as I bent over to slip my shoes on. “I didn’t want to be late to work.”
She caught an audible breath before stuttering, “I…you…you’re not late.” She sounded somewhat breathless as I kept my jean-covered ass facing her way the entire time I laced up my boots.
When I was done, I snapped the hems of my jeans over the tops of my boots before straightening and turning toward her.
Her shoulders rose and fell before she added, “You’re right on time.”
“Great.” I grinned and finger combed my hair a few times before calling it good and slapping my hat on. “You want to get back to the library and plan those bookshelves then? I did a little research this weekend and got a few more cool ideas, mostly dealing with molding and designs.”
It struck me how painfully inept I was to make shelves in a place like this that hosted what had to be a multimillion-dollar pool house rock cave. But if Henry, and more importantly Isobel, didn’t seem to mind, then I wasn’t going to mind either.
Isobel started to nod. “I, okay. I…” Her eyes flared wide, gaze fixed on me. But when I moved toward her, she tripped a step back. “Actually, no. I…I think I’m going to take a quick shower too.” Then I swear I heard her mumble under her breath, “A cold shower.” But I wasn’t sure because she followed it so quickly with, “Why don’t you head to the kitchen and beg some breakfast from Mrs. Pan? I’ll meet you there, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, nodding, my stomach growling happily over the prospect of food. “Works for me.”
She started to spin away, only for me to realize she was going to abandon me there to find my own way back to the house. “Isobel, wait,” I called, springing after her.
Stopping so fast I nearly ran into her, she spun back, only to stumble backward again when she realized how close I was. Eyes flaring wide, she gasped, “Yes?”
I cringed and offered her an apologetic smile. “How, uh, how exactly do I get to the kitchen from here?”
Chagrined, she blushed. “O-oh. Right. Here. I’ll just take you there.”
I fell into step behind her as we left the pool house, where I had to glance back one last time to get another look at all the coolness inside. At the end of the patio surrounding the pool, the familiar hedge maze sprang up. Isobel chose an opening and I followed her down it. It wasn’t wide enough for two people so I had to stay a step behind her.
I think that made her self-conscious, which hell yes, it should, as I was totally checking out her ass in those yoga pants. She cleared her throat and asked, “You, uh, did you get any reading done this weekend?”
Surprised she’d brought up books and reading since we’d only corresponded about them through notes, I lifted my attention from her ass to her face just as she glanced back at me over her shoulder.
“I…yes, actually, I did. Thanks for reminding me.” Transferring my book bag from my back to my chest, I unzipped the front pocket and pulled out Brisingr. “Finished it. Thank you again for the loan.” I handed it to her, and she had to stop walking and turn slightly to receive it, which brought us closer together.
Her fingers accidently skimmed past mine when she took the book. “I…” Her gaze lifted to mine, and damn, those eyes looked so freaking blue while her lashes looked so impossibly long. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to kiss her so fucking bad.
And then she went and wetted her lips, flicking her pink tongue out over them. I nearly lost it. But I refused to make the first move. This was her call. It killed me to remain as still as possible, but I did, trying to silently convey to her with everything inside me that I was totally okay with anything she might want to do to me.
Instead of stepping closer, she cleared her throat and jerked back. “I guess you’ll need book four, then?”
I deflated a little with disappointment but managed to nod and even send her a smile. “Sure. That’d be great. Thank you.”
With a nod, she turned away and hurried off. I nearly had to jog to keep up. She didn’t speak again for the rest of the trip to the kitchen, and I didn’t trust myself to say anything either.
When we came to an opening in the hedge path, we ended up on the patio where I’d first met Kit. Isobel approached the back door and went inside, leaving it open for me to follow.
When I did, I was surprised to see Mr. Nash in the kitchen, sitting at the table and eating his breakfast. I hadn’t seen him eat in the kitchen since I’d come to work here. Granted, most days, except Saturdays, he was gone by the time I arrived. But the last two Saturdays, he’d just had a tray brought to his office for meals.
He looked up and smiled. “Morning, sweetheart. Did you have a good…?”
His voice died off as I entered and quietly closed the door behind me.
Mrs. Pan turned from the stove where she was flipping pancakes, and Kit, who’d been sitting across from Mr. Nash, dove under the table at the sight of Isobel.
“Shaw!” Mrs. Pan exclaimed. “What’re you doing here so early?”
She stood frozen, spatula in hand, waiting for an answer, while Mr. Nash seemed similarly struck.
I swallowed, not realizing until that moment how it might look to spend time with Isobel outside work hours. But there was no way to hide it now. Besides, there was nothing seedy to hide.
Still, I couldn’t help but send her a seeking glance to make sure she was okay with me outing our jogging sessions before I said, “I decided to go running with…” It was on the tip of my tongue to be formal and call her Miss Nash, but then I thought, why bother? I wasn’t hiding anything, so I finished with, “…Isobel.”
Both the cook and Isobel’s father seemed startled. I wasn’t sure if it was from the informal address or the fact that I’d run with her.
Isobel cleared her throat. “Since he came in so early, I told him he could work from six to two today, instead of his usual nine to five. That’s okay with you, isn’t it, Dad?”
“Uh…” It took her dad a few more seconds to close his mouth before he slowly gave his head a dazed bob up and down. “Sure,” he managed to answer. “Sure. Whatever you think is best, sweetheart.”
Isobel nodded too. “Good. I’m going to go take a shower.” She paused by her father to kiss him on the top of his balding head. “Have a good day,” she said before sailing from the kitchen.
Mrs. Pan and her dad both blinked before they swung their attention back to me. “I…was that okay?” I asked, now that Isobel was gone. “Running with her, I mean.”
Jarred from his shock, Mr. Nash jumped and immediately began to nod. “Yes, yes. Perfectly fine. I just…I didn’t realize you two had…”
I drew in a breath. “We, uh, well, we talked quite a bit on Saturday while we were discussing bookshelves.”
“Well…” Mr. Nash murmured. “That’s…that’s lovely.”
His eyes glittered with an eagerness that made me uneasy. I suddenly wished he’d never found out about our run. I didn’t want him thinking I’d done it because of our agreement. I hadn’t even been thinking about that when I’d asked Isobel if I could run with her.
But the look on this face told me that was exactly what was on his mind.
I opened my mouth to—I don’t know—correct him, maybe. But Mrs. Pan interrupted.
“Can I interest you in some pancakes, Shaw?”
As I turned to her to politely accept, Kit chose that moment to crawl back up from under the table. Without saying a word, Mr. Nash patted him on the top of the head as if to soothe the kid, and I totally lost my train of thought, wondering why everyone allowed the boy to treat Isobel that way.
If it was the last thing I did, I was going to show Kit Pan there was no reason to fear Isobel.
