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Before long, we’re so wrapped up in our conversation, that I don’t even notice when the other guys start to drift away. They both find some woman to chat up… probably. I’m too enthralled with Izzy to say for sure. We started the night at opposite ends of the booth, but at some point during the conversation, we scooted closer together. Now, we’re side by side, leaning in to listen to the other over the noise of the country music blaring through the small space.
Izzy listens to my stories of my time with the Jets, hanging on every word. When I feel she’s truly at ease, I make yet another attempt to steer the conversation back to her personal life.
“What brought you to Dallas?” It’s a pretty transparent attempt to find out why she vanished after her junior year, which is one of the biggest unsolved mysteries of my life.
“Oh, you know,” she says. She takes a sip of her drink, then frowns when she realizes the bottle is empty. “Jules was moving here, so I figured it was as good a place as any. Do you want another?”
“In a minute,” I say, too nervous to tell her I think she should slow down. It doesn’t feel like my place, but her eyes are definitely starting to glaze. “Tell me about starting your own business. I don’t remember you talking about that in high school.”
“People change,” she says with a one-shoulder shrug. Comfortable as she is, she’s still tight-lipped when talking about herself. She’s given the same clipped answers to every question I’ve asked, right before quickly changing the subject.
“How are your parents doing?” I ask, refusing to give up.
This was apparently too much prying. She completely freezes for a full three seconds, then launches into a story about Julia’s colorful dating life.
My suspicion rises beyond its already astronomical height. I’ve wracked my brain trying to imagine why she’d just run away. Running from me is one thing, but her parents are another. What could’ve been so bad that she dropped out of school and left her family behind? It has to be something big, but every time I get near the truth, she backs off.
At some point, she catches me, watching her intently. “What?” She asks
“Nothing…” My smile grows. “I just missed this.”
“Missed what?” She looks genuinely confused. Maybe she’s drunker than I gave her credit for, I think, before subtly counting the bottles on the table.
“Talking. With you,” I say.
Instead of just responding, like a normal person, she scoots out of the booth. “Can we try the dancing thing again? I promise I won’t run away this time?”
She’s had more than a few drinks. I really should say no… but I can’t refuse her anything. I never could. So, I take her hand and lead her to the floor where people are drunkenly two-stepping to Brad Paisley.
We stumble around, I’ve never claimed to be a particularly graceful dancer, but Izzy is laughing, which is better than scowling. Until a slower song comes on, and Izzy loops her arms around my neck, and beams up at me, eyes slightly glazed.
I take a steadying breath as I settle my hands on her hips.
“You’re right,” she says. “This is nice. It’s like the prom we never had.”
That’s about when my conscience finally kicks in. I reach behind my neck and gently pry her hands off. “Come on. I’m going to drive you home.”
“But we’re finally having fun. Just dance with me.” She sticks out her bottom lip in a way that makes me want to pull it with my teeth. My cock twitches with interest, but I firmly ignore it.
“Iz, you’re drunk. Just yesterday you were running away from me. We can come back another time when you’re feeling more yourself.” Plus, I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t get her home right now, because she likely won’t remember any of this tomorrow.
She pouts the whole way, but I do get her into my car. She smiles appreciatively at the butter-soft leather of my Audi. I must admit, I like this car more than I like most people.
Drunk as she is, I’m surprised she’s able to mumble out her address. I type it into my phone. I have to recheck it twice because the directions look like they are leading me right to my own front door. The world is small, but it’s not that small, right?
We turn on the street right before mine and pull up to the nice, but tiny townhouse… that happens to butt right up to my backyard. How on earth am I just now finding out that Isabella is my neighbor? How am I supposed to get her out of my mind when we share a backyard wall?
Shaking my head in disbelief, I help her out and walk her to the door. She misses the lock with her key and I step in to help her. So much for walking her to the door. I’m going to have to make sure she gets inside and in bed okay. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
A shaggy labradoodle greets us at the door. I don’t pay much attention to her home, as I let Izzy lead me to her room where she immediately starts tugging on her blouse, seemingly having forgotten I’m there. Or maybe she just doesn’t care. I swallow hard and will my eyes to the cream carpet. “Where are your pajamas?” I ask, voice strained.
She gives a vague wave to the dresser. “Top drawer.”
I go and grab them for her, smiling at the cartoon turtles on the matching set. I turn back to her and freeze. She has her back to me, and she’s wearing nothing but a lacy bralette and panties. She’s twisting both arms behind her trying to find the clasp. It takes every shred of control I possess not to allow my eyes to drift any lower than her back.
Swallowing the lump in my throat. I walk over and gently unhook the clasp with trembling fingers. Then, I set the pajamas on the bed and turn before I can see anything more. “Get dressed and I’ll tuck you in.”
I wait to turn back around until I hear the rustling of her comforter. When I turn, she’s nestled in her bed, her discarded clothes, including the turtle pjs, are strewn haphazardly on the floor. I gulp, because that means she’s completely naked underneath that comforter. The mental images of that are going to keep me up tonight.
