Rocky Mountain Hook Up (To Love Again Book 1) (8 page)

“But what if he hadn’t?” asked Isabel, trying to stop her tears. She swiped at her cheeks and pulled away from Jenny. “What if he hadn’t?”

“Listen, Isabel. It was a rare occurrence. The good news is that you ended up with a real stand-up guy. Someone who was looking out for you right from the get go.”

Isabel shrugged and crossed the ceramic tile to her stool. She sat and took a sip of coffee, trying to calm the emotions rolling through her. “He was pretty special,” she said hesitatingly.

“Barry said you couldn’t have been in better hands. In fact, he’s Barry’s best friend. So, if you want to see him again, I’ll call Barry and get his number.”

“No, Jenny. I think I’m done with the whole thing. It was an interesting experiment, that almost went horribly wrong, I might add, but now it’s over. I’m not going back there to find someone who probably just took me home to protect me anyway.”

Jenny jumped down off her stool, planted her hands on her hips and shook her head at Isabel in frustration. “Honestly, Isabel, you are impossible. You’re the smartest woman I know, you have a successful practice that you’ve worked damn hard to build up over the years…and you’re still stubborn enough to let a small thing like your pride stand in your way.”

Jenny’s words were harsh, but her eyes were not. Isabel knew she spoke out of love and concern for her. They’d always had a friendship that allowed them to put everything on the table – even the hard and ugly things. Jenny’s words struck home, but she felt frozen inside.

“You’re right, Jenny. I can’t afford to not do this, but maybe once will be enough …”

“Ha!” laughed Jenny. “Once is never enough. I’ll bet you hardly remember last night after three years on your own. A starving woman can’t enjoy a banquet: she’d eat beans as soon as caviar. You need more time to truly enjoy and savor the experience. You need an opportunity to take note of the things that work and things that don’t. I’m willing to bet that Tray would be delighted to help you do a little more research.”

Jenny reached for her purse and Isabel followed her silently to the door. She could go to the club again that night. It wouldn’t kill her. It was, after all, only her pride. What did her mother used to say…pride goeth before a fall? Well, she wouldn’t let her pride contribute to her failure. “Jenny, what are you doing tonight?” she asked her friend with a smile in her eye. “I’ve heard of this great club downtown.”

“You’re on,” Jenny said, giving Isabel a quick hug. “I’ll pick you up at nine.”

Isabel pulled the door open for her friend and found herself staring into smoky blue eyes. Standing on her doorstep, Tray juggled take-out coffee and a bouquet of daisies.

“Remember what I was saying.” Jenny brushed quickly past Tray and winked over her shoulder at Isabel. “A golden opportunity. Don’t waste it.”

Isabel yelled her thanks to Jenny and stood staring at Tray, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. The bouquet seemed like a toy in his massive hands and the coffee cups looked like shot glasses.

She looked into his eyes, not sure what to say, and wondered what had happened to her voice.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Tray couldn’t tell if Isabel was happy to see him or horrified. And what had her friend meant about golden opportunities? He shifted his weight to his other leg and looked more intently into her eyes. She was just as beautiful as he remembered from last night; even more so because she hadn’t put on any make-up. He liked the clean, fresh look of her skin, the natural color in her cheeks, the pouty pink of her lips.

“Good morning, Isabel.” He offered the flowers tentatively and grinned sheepishly. Daisies. He knew he should have bought roses for this woman, but he didn’t want to appear over the top. Like showing up on her doorstep the next morning was such a cool move, he chided himself.

“Tray, that’s very sweet,” she said, taking the flowers. She looked at the coffee tray he was balancing with his other hand. “And coffee, too?”

She turned and went back into the house, headed for the kitchen. Tray watched silently for a minute and then followed behind her. After all, he’d come this far. It didn’t seem like she was going to throw him out.

He set the coffee on the counter next to the half-empty lattes from the previous visitor, and watched while Isabel looked through cupboards, finally coming up with a vase. She moved gracefully toward the sink and filled the vase. It took her so long to unwrap the daisies and cut the ends that Tray wondered if she was stalling for time. Finally, she arranged the bouquet to her satisfaction and set it on the counter.

“They’re beautiful, Tray. Thank you.” She turned to him. “Where did you get to last night?”

He was unable to read her face. Was she annoyed that he had left? Or didn’t it matter to her? Maybe she had a lot of experience with bringing men home, although she did seem surprised at him showing up this morning. Maybe she brought them home but never saw them again. “I didn’t want to wake you. When I came back from the kitchen you were sleeping so peacefully, I figured I’d just head home.”

“Oh,” Isabel replied.

He hadn’t wanted to leave. Should he tell her that? Seeing her sleeping so peacefully, he’d just wanted to curl up beside her and settle in for the night. He was still kicking himself for not staying, but he hadn’t been sure he would be welcome. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to spend the night.”

“Oh.”

‘Oh’ didn’t give him many clues about what she was thinking, Tray thought. “I wanted to stay, Isabel. I just thought it might be better if I went home.”

“Oh.”

Not better, you fool. Better was not the right answer. “Not better, Isabel, just…” Damn, he hated sounding like an insecure little schoolboy. Although that’s exactly how she had him pegged, so maybe he was only playing his part. “I didn’t want to make any assumptions, and you were already asleep.”

“Oh. I see.”

Two more words, that was a start. She seemed to be mulling something over.

She looked up and met his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me what was happening at the club last night?”

“What was happening?” he asked. He wasn’t sure what she meant, but he could see her hesitation and the tightness around her mouth. “I don’t understand.”

“Jenny just told me the story Barry told her about the rape drug, and about Scott,” she said. “Why did you lie to me?”

“Lie to you?” said Tray, backtracking as fast as he could. God, he didn’t want the woman to think he had been dishonest with her. He would be crushed if she didn’t want to see him again. “I just didn’t want to alarm you, Isabel. To be honest, I didn’t know what to do. You looked so nervous. I thought you’d bolt if you knew, and I really wanted a chance to get to know you. I was going to tell you later in the evening but once we started dancing….” He couldn’t think what else to say and shrugged his shoulders. “I know it sounds lame, but that’s the truth.”

Isabel rearranged the daisies and finally raised her eyes to meet his, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “So you really were my white knight?”

Tray summoned his courage and reached for her, breathing in the sweet scent of her, heady with the memories of the previous evening: her legs wrapped around his waist, her searing kisses on his neck. He brought her hand to his mouth and gently brushed his lips across it. “I had an incredible time last night, Isabel. I didn’t want what happened at the club to spoil it. And I’m sorry I left. Frankly, I couldn’t wait to get back over here.”

Isabel looked demurely downward and then met his eyes. All he wanted was to sink into those pools, erase the last few hours away from her and be in her arms, in her bed once again. “I’m glad you came back.”

Tray felt a wave of relief roll through him. She was glad he’d come back. That couldn’t be a bad thing. Now he just had to scrounge up enough courage to ask her what he’d come back for. To be his teacher. He had no idea how she might react to that, and he needed to be more relaxed before he sprang it on her.

“Do you like latte?” he asked, reaching for the coffee and holding one toward her.

Isabel laughed, a tinkling that warmed his heart. “I do.” She reached behind her and shut off the coffee machine on the counter: the pot still full of the coffee she must have made earlier today.

Taking up the other cup, Tray drank deeply and moved toward the dining room. “Can we sit and talk for a bit?”

Isabel moved the flowers to the dining room table and settled herself into the chair he held out for her, pushing a bowl of fruit in his direction.

He shook his head. “No, thanks. Clashes with the coffee.”

“So, do you go there often?” Isabel asked, and immediately looked mortified. “I mean, well, that was a stupid thing to ask, I guess.”

“No, not really. I was wondering the same thing about you. It was my first time.” Oh, man. He was inexperienced, but he wasn’t that inexperienced. What was he thinking? “Not my first
time
,” he explained quickly, the words tumbling over each other. “My first time at that club.”

“Me, too,” laughed Isabel. “Tray, you could never convince me that was your first time last night even if you were desperate to have me believe it.”

Isabel’s cheeks flushed rosy pink in a way Tray found immensely endearing. And strangely exciting. He shifted in the chair, reminding himself to stay with the program.

“The truth is, Isabel – I haven’t had a lot of experience…”

Isabel was looking at him like he was a sheep in wolf’s clothing. What had he expected? He had picked her up in a bar after all. Not only a bar, but a club well known as score city. Of course, that was why he had gone. He knew he could have his pick of the girls in his college classes: they’d made that obvious to him. But they were girls. He wasn’t looking for a girl. Tray needed someone he could relate to.

Casual sex was far enough out of his comfort zone, and meaningless sex wasn’t even on his radar screen. So because of his lack of experience, he still lacked confidence in his skills as a lover. It was almost like the old job-hunting cycle: you can’t get a job if you don’t have experience, and you can’t get experience if you don’t have a job. He knew Isabel hadn’t believed him last night when he’d tried to explain.

He’d gone to The Shore because Barry had assured him that it was a sure thing. And because he thought that if he met an older woman, someone who wouldn’t constantly be looking for him to take the lead in everything - a woman who knew her own mind - that he could relax and improve his sexual skills. He wanted a woman who could accept him for who he was and not be eager to fit him into some predefined romantic fantasy or hero mold.

He was getting ahead of himself. That’s what he wanted in the long term. In the short term, he needed a knowledgeable woman, willing to take him under her wing and into her bed. Someone to help him get over his awkwardness. He was looking for a woman with enough patience to instruct him in the ways of love. Isabel was that woman. On some level, he had known it the instant he saw her across the room last night.

Isabel looked at him quizzically, waiting for him to continue, and then jumped up from the table. “I forgot about the pastries! Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” he nodded, thankful for the interruption. He watched Isabel move gracefully around her kitchen, her movements fluid, yet compact. It was a small kitchen and she took plates down from the cupboard and prepared the pastries with quick efficiency. Tray let his gaze linger over her slender body. She was in amazing shape. He longed to jump up, encircle her tiny waist with his large hands and pull her to him. He took a deep breath and tried to squelch the flames rising within him. First things first.

“They were in the oven a little too long,” she said apologetically as she placed the warm, slightly crispy pastry on the table in front of him.

“Looks good to me,” he said, testing the edge with his fingers and finding it too hot to handle.

Isabel settled back into her seat and toyed with the food in front of her. “You wanted to tell me something?”

“Did I have a chance to tell you last night that I grew up on a farm?” he asked, knowing full well that he hadn’t. Last night had been about mouths and hands and sweaty bodies. At a certain point, they’d barely spent a minute on conversation that didn’t involve the logistics of getting their clothes off.

“You didn’t mention it,” Isabel replied, a look of caution crossing her face.

What was he thinking? She didn’t need to know all the details. There would be time for that later. He didn’t want her to agree out of some sense of pity. That wouldn’t do. Forget the sad stories. It wasn’t really important that she understand, only that she be willing. She was a strong-willed woman - that much was clear - and capable of making up her own mind.

“I find myself at a bit of a crossroads in my life,” Tray said, looking directly at Isabel, who was giving him her full attention. “There’s something I want, something I need, but it means asking someone else to participate.”

“By someone else, I gather you mean me?” Isabel tilted her head slightly and raised her eyebrows.

“Yes.” Deep breath. Steady boy, the worst that can happen is she’ll say no. No, the worst that could happen would be that she’d throw hot coffee in his face and scream her head off and order him out of her house.

“Tray,” Isabel broke into his runaway thoughts. “Just ask me. I’m a big girl. Whatever it is, you can be sure that I’ll make my own decisions.”