It Takes Two (3 page)

“That makes me sad,” Olivia said.

“Me too.” If she let herself think about it. Which she made a point of not doing.

“How are you going to tell him?” Olivia asked.

“I have to do it kind of publicly. I can’t seem to get it done in private.”

She barely managed to keep her clothes on for ten minutes when she and Shane were alone, not to mention having any kind of serious conversation. And it wasn’t him initiating it most of the time. She couldn’t resist. Like a perfect, rich, decadent cheesecake sitting there and tempting her.
Just one piece won’t hurt
was like a mantra in her head. And then, inevitably, like every great addiction, it was never just one piece.

The two a.m. booty calls were all she was allowing herself at this point. She showed up, stripped, rocked his world, then got back in her car and got the hell out of there before he had a chance to ask her to move in without the big crowd and the stage and the ridiculous theme decorations. He was doing her a favor by asking her in public. In person, she would have never been able to say no.

“You’re not going to tell him up on stage or something are you?” Olivia asked.

“I’ll probably pull him over to the side in here,” Isabelle said. “Or maybe we can go outside for a little bit.” Though they’d certainly done plenty of hot making out in parking lots.

“You can’t dump it on him in here,” Emma said, wide-eyed. “He’s going to be…”

Isabelle waited, very interested. “He’s going to be what?”

Emma looked a little regretful as she said, “Shocked that you’re so good at covering up what’s going on with you. Mad at himself for thinking that he knew you when obviously he didn’t pay close enough attention. Worried that he’s going to do something to make things worse without realizing it and afraid that he’s never ever going to know how you are unless you flat out tell him.”

Isabelle felt her heart clench at Emma’s not-so-subtle confession of her own feelings.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I hate that this has to affect you too.”

Emma seemed to shake herself out of the melancholy. “It’s what happens when you love someone,” she said. “What affects them, affects you. Just…ease him into it. It’ll be easier on him if he has a chance to get used to a few things at a time.”

Yeah, maybe working up to it would have been easier on Emma too. But Isabelle had needed to dump it all on her sisters at once, like it had been dumped on her. She’d needed someone else to know. To know that her body was not letting her live the life she wanted to live, that it wasn’t a choice. To know that she
wanted
to keep up, but couldn’t.

For a little over a year before the diagnosis, from time to time, when the symptoms got the best of her, she’d say she had to work late or that she was taking a late spinning class. Then she’d go home and take a warm bath and slip into bed while Emma was out, so that she could get more sleep. She had faked a sprained ankle for a couple of weeks to avoid dancing and the club scene when she was going through what she now knew was a flare-up. Another time she’d pretended she’d gotten food poisoning. It wasn’t all the time, but it had become more and more common and had finally bothered her enough to go to the doctor about the muscle aches and the fatigue that never seemed to go away no matter how much she slept.

“I should suggest a
Firefly
marathon or something and see if he runs screaming?” Isabelle asked lightly.

“Work up to the space cowboys, too,” Emma advised with an eye roll.

A couple of friends stopped by the table then and the girls moved on to other topics, but Isabelle couldn’t keep her mind on anything but Shane. As usual.

As if he felt her gaze, he glanced over and gave her a wink. She smiled and turned away.

He’d repeatedly asked her to move in with him, she’d said no and he was still winking at her.

He really did think he wanted her.

And that made her feel warm and tingly.

She wanted that feeling for the rest of her life.

Tears stung her eyes. Dammit.

Isabelle took a deep breath. Okay, she was going to do this. It was time.

A woman could not live on booty calls and chocolate body pens alone.

Chapter Two

Shane Kelley was a great pool player.

At least he had been at one time. Before he’d started hanging out at Trudy’s. Before he’d met Isabelle Dixon.

That woman had been distracting him since they’d first said hello.

Of course, he told her that he threw games on occasion to keep the other guys happy.

Truth was, he hadn’t had a solid game in almost a year.

Isabelle slid out of the booth where she and her sisters had been drinking and gabbing for the past thirty minutes and he completely missed his shot.

Ryan Kaye laughed. “I love taking your money, Kelley.”

Shane handed over the twenty they’d put down on the game. “You know it’s because I’m not playing up to par, not because you’re actually good, right?”

Ryan pocketed the money. “All spends the same.”

Uh-huh. Shane propped his cue against the table and reached for his beer, keeping Isabelle in sight. She had headed in the direction of the restrooms, but she had her cell phone out, her thumbs moving over the screen.

He gripped his bottle tighter and took a drink. She distracted him and made him crazy. He should just let her go. He should find someone else. He should see a psychiatrist before he turned into an insane stalker.

Or he should marry her.

That was his favorite idea. And the one he’d been thinking about more and more since she and her sisters had been in a car accident two months ago. Isabelle had only been banged up a little, but he’d never forget the feeling of sheer terror at the idea that he could have lost her.

Getting over her wasn’t going to happen.

So marrying her seemed like the only thing that made sense.

Convincing her of that was turning out to be the hardest thing he’d ever done. He couldn’t even get her to move in. How was he going to get her to say
I do
?

He knew that their romance had been a whirlwind, that it didn’t make sense to be talking this seriously this soon. He wanted to live with her before they even knew what kind of toothpaste they each preferred or if either of them sang in the shower. Whenever Isabelle was in the shower and he was around, he was in the shower with her. And she didn’t have any breath left to sing.

But it hadn’t worried him. He’d
felt
it—she was the one. They had a lifetime to learn about each other, and what better way than to live together?

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and reached for it, realizing that Isabelle must have slipped into the bathroom while he was lost in thought.

I need you.

Shane felt his heart kick in his chest.

Isabelle had that effect on him no matter where they were or what they were doing. Three little words via text and his reaction was simply
yes.

It was a little pathetic. Or maybe a lot pathetic.

But whatever Isabelle needed from him, he was all hers.

He tipped his beer back, finishing it off. “Gotta go, guys,” he said.

Ryan raised an eyebrow, glanced toward the table where the Dixon girls had been seated, noticed that Isabelle was missing from the group and looked back to Shane. “Everything okay?”

Shane nodded. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Good thing Mac has Conner occupied,” Ryan said, nodding to a table behind Shane.

He glanced over to where Isabelle’s brother, Conner, was sitting with Mac Gordon, one of the best—and cockiest—paramedics in the city.

Mac loved to give Conner shit and it had very little to do with Conner being a fellow paramedic. It mostly had to do with Conner’s blatant crush on Mac’s wife. Mac wasn’t at all worried about losing Sara to Conner—which was exactly what he gave Conner shit about.

That most definitely worked in the favor of all the guys who liked to get the Dixon Divas’ attention. Even Ryan, who was openly dating Isabelle’s oldest sister, Amanda, appreciated when their brother was distracted. Conner frowned on too many public displays of affection.

Shane shot Ryan a grin and took the opportunity to head after Conner’s third sister.

There were moments when he almost felt sorry for the guy. He had four younger, beautiful, outgoing sisters.

But then Conner opened his mouth and said something cocky and Shane figured he deserved those four sisters and all the trouble they brought with them.

He stepped into the back hallway. There was only one stall in the bathroom and the door locked, so he was fine meeting up in there. It wouldn’t be the first time. But before he got to the bathroom door, a hand came out from the storage room and pulled him in amongst the brooms and cleaning supplies.

Even without the light, he instantly knew from her body spray that it was Isabelle. He gladly pressed in close so she could shut the door behind him. Once the latch clicked she flipped on the light and pushed him up against the door.

“We need to talk,” she said simply.

Her long blond hair was pulled back into one of the complicated twists that she often wore for work and his hands itched to unfasten the pins and let it loose.

“Damn right we do. When are you moving in?” He lifted a hand and ran his thumb along her jaw instead of messing up her hair. For now.

“Shane, I’m serious.”

Her hands were pressed flat against his chest and he couldn’t help but flash back to the week before when they’d last had sex. On his kitchen table. She’d pulled out chocolate body pens and had drawn on him—all over—before licking it off.

“Shane?”

He focused on her. “Sorry.”

“We need to talk about something serious.”

“Sweetheart, I know there’s cotton candy out there, but this is serious. I’ve got the moving truck waiting.”

“I can’t move in with you.”

“See, honey, that’s just not true.” He settled his hands on her hips and moved her closer. “It’s easy. You throw your stuff in a box, you let the big strong moving guys throw it on the truck and it’s done.”

Isabelle gripped the front of his shirt in her hands. “Shane. I. Am. Not. Moving. In. With. You.”

He stared into her green eyes. Why did he put up with all of this? She was
a lot
of work.

Most of the guys he knew would instantly assume it was about the sex. Isabelle was always up for it, anytime, anywhere, and it was exciting and fun and spicy every time.

But it wasn’t that. Well, it wasn’t
just
that.

He couldn’t exactly explain what it was, but it wasn’t only about the sex.

“This isn’t about Vegas,” he said, confident that Isabelle knew nothing had happened between him and his ex.

“No,” she admitted, letting go of his shirt. “It’s not.”

He pulled her close again when she tried to step back. “And this isn’t because you’re not in love with me. You are.”

She nodded. “Yes, I think I am.”

Relief rushed through him. He knew it, on some level, but damn, hearing it was really, really good. “Then help me out here, darlin’. Because this doesn’t make any fucking sense.” He ran one big hand up and down her back, loving the feel of her in his arms.

She bit her bottom lip and stared up at him. Finally she said, “You’re right. You deserve an explanation as to why I keep saying no.”

Well, the relief had certainly been short lived.

Shane worked on not tensing. He knew he came on strong. He knew that he’d blown into her life—and her family’s lives—like a hurricane mated with a twister. Her brother definitely was having trouble adjusting. Shane was the newest addition to the Omaha Hawks and Conner Dixon’s inner circle. He knew he was there more because Conner quickly decided he liked Shane and Shane was the best at protecting the quarterback from the guys on the other side of the line of scrimmage who wanted to take his head off.

But Conner had liked him
before
Shane had laid his eyes on Isabelle. Because the minute that happened, Shane had fallen hard and fast. And, like everything in his life, he jumped right in.

He knew asking her to move in was a major change in her life. She and Emma were tight and this would mean leaving her sister and best friend. Not that anyone was really worried about Emma. Emma Dixon would always land on her feet. In fact, of all Isabelle’s siblings, he and Emma got along best. They were kindred spirits. They believed that life was made to be lived.

He knew Isabelle loved him. He knew she wanted to be with him. But was it possible that he’d intimidated her? Flustered her? Pushed too hard, too fast?

Yeah, six months of a relationship and two months of fighting a break-up wasn’t very much time. But he had this driving feeling in his gut that if he didn’t make her fully his, he was going to lose her. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but sometimes it felt like Isabelle was holding back. And he wanted everything. Having her under his roof, in his bed, sharing everything from cereal to car payments, seemed like one way of getting her close and keeping her there.