I head to the attic to grab the paint and a few brushes, carrying everything down while Isabelle cleans the door with a soapy cloth. She dries it off, and I sand down the flaky paint, smoothing down the imperfections until the wood is even. Then we start painting. I tackle the left half of the door while Isabelle does the right. We work in silence for a few minutes, our sides brushing occasionally, making my pulse jump every time. I’m moving automatically, spreading the paint over the wood, but my brain is entirely focused on the woman beside me. Every breath. Every movement.
Fuck, she has no idea what she’s doing to me.
“I hope my dad will be okay,” Isabelle says eventually, her hand moving dangerously close to mine as we paint. “He loves his auto shop.”
I didn’t even know Holdenhadan auto shop until today. Guess there’s a lot of stuff I don’t know about him after twenty years.
“How long has he had it?” I ask.
“About sixteen years, I think.” She rises on her tiptoes to reach the top of the door, and I fill in the bits she misses. “It’s a small shop, but Dad has built a great reputation for being fair with his prices. He’s always booked up.”
I grunt, unsurprised. Holden was always a stickler for fairness.
“What about you?” I ask her. “Do you work there with him?”
“No…I’m not much of a mechanic, even though I practically grew up in the shop.” She smiles wistfully, her pretty eyesglazing over. “I used to love watching Dad fix stuff. Heck, I still do, but I was away at college until recently, so I haven’t been around the shop as much.”
Jesus, she only just graduated college?
Sometimes I forget how young she is.
“What did you major in?” I ask, trying to focus on moving my paintbrush up and down, fixing my gaze on the door.
“Finance. University of Denver.” We’re standing so close that I can feel her shrug. “It seemed like a safe bet, but to be honest, I have no clue where to go from here.”
“You’re young. Plenty of time to figure it out.”
In my peripheral vision, I see her smile, and I can’t help glancing at her. My heart jumps at the way those amber eyes sparkle. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before, but they’re the color of whiskey…
Figures. They’re both tempting as hell.
Both things I can’t have.
We finish the indoor coat, painting the outside before leaving it to dry. We’ll have to do another coat later, but for now, Isabelle seems eager to get on with something else. She cleans the floors, ceilings, and every other surface in the cabin while I pick up the caulking gun that Holden set down this morning and finish up the windows. Isabelle sure isn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty. She puts her back into every task, working her ass off for the next several hours. I match her energy, trying to distract myself from how damn pretty she looks when she’s all red and sweaty from exertion. I replace a few more light fixtures, doorknobs, and old faucets, as well as cleaning the gutters, sealing up drafts around the cabin, and repairing the deck’s rotten boards out front. Then, Isabelle and I finish the front door with a second coat of paint before she finally collapses onto the couch, looking exhausted.
“Let’s call it there, Pixie,” I tell her, wiping my brow with my sleeve.
“I just need a quick breather, then I’ll finish up in the bedroom?—”
“No. You’ve worked hard enough for one day.” I glance at the clock on the wall. “Nearly time to eat, anyway.”
She nods gratefully, and I head into the kitchen to look in the fridge. Empty. Not sure I’d want to eat here anyway; the whole place smells of paint and sawdust.
“You want to go to my place for dinner?” I ask Isabelle when I return to the living room. “Got some beef in the fridge. Can make us burgers.”
Her face glows. “Sure! I’d love to see where you live.”
She looks so damn cute when she’s excited, her eyes all wide and bright. I feel a crazy urge to pull her into my arms, press those sweet curves against me, breathe in her peachy scent until I can’t smell paint anymore.
Fuck. Keep it together.
Isabelle insists on taking a shower and changing out of her sweaty clothes before we leave. When she’s clean and dressed, she follows me out of Ralph’s cabin and down the porch steps, wearing a pale yellow summer dress that hugs her curves and makes my mouth water. I open the door to the truck and help her into the passenger seat, my skin burning at her touch when she grabs my forearm for balance. Then I hop into the driver’s side and turn the truck around, heading down the dirt path that leads back to the road. Isabelle hums softly from beside me, looking out at the trees, and I feel a quick flicker of guilt in my gut. I know Holden wouldn’t approve of me taking his daughter back to my place. It’s crossing a line—definitely not what he had in mind when he left her with me.
But I can’t fucking resist.
This might be the last chance I get to be alone with her. Soon enough, Holden will come back, we’ll finish fixing up the cabin, and then he’ll take Isabelle back to Denver. I want to spend asmuch time as possible with this angel before that happens. Being around her is like bathing in sunshine. Everything feels brighter with her around, her light drowning out my past, my demons. I’m not ready to let that feeling go. Not ready to lethergo. My need for her is stronger than my guilt, so I ignore the voice in the back of my head telling me she’s too young, too sweet, off-limits. I push it all down and keep on driving with Isabelle by my side.
7
