The Fight for Us (10 page)

She nodded as she pursed her lips, but when she stepped past him toward the door, he grabbed her elbow, stilling her. She wouldn’t look at him though.

“Don’t do that. I don’t want you to go.” He didn’t at all. The desperate way his insides were clenching as though he’d do just about anything to get back to where they’d been a minute before was all the proof he needed.

She didn’t have time to respond to him, because the moment she finally met his gaze, the door was thrown open in front of them, and a giggling Natalie greeted them.

“Ms. Verna! Your daughter is doing the weirdest thing with eggs! She really can’t cook.”

“She gets that from me,” Joss muttered it as she forced a strained smile to her mouth.

The most Isaiah was able to muster was, “What happened to frozen pizza?”

“We’re cooking dinner!” Natalie was beyond excited.

“Oh, honey, Harper and I have to go.”

Natalie’s face fell the moment Joss said it. “Please. We’re almost done. It won’t take long.” Natalie was practically groveling.

After Joss stalled for a moment, she relented and nodded her head.

Isaiah reached to her lower back, ushering her inside. He likely shouldn’t touch her, but it’s all he really wanted to do—anything at all to reassure her.

Dinner was little more comfortable than the front doorstep had been, and the only real comfort was the two girls who were eagerly gabbing. He should be appreciating the way they were getting along so well, but at the moment, all he could think about were Joss’s beautiful blue eyes watching him from across the table. She was hurt, regardless of whether she wanted him to see it or not.

“This is actually good.” Natalie seemed shocked.

He couldn’t say he’d ever had such a thing, but Nat was right. Nothing more than hard-boiled eggs sliced up in white gravy over cornbread. Who’d have thought that might be edible.

“I know! It sounds so disgusting—egg gravy.”

The girls were chatting, looking back and forth from Joss to Isaiah. They clearly knew something was off given the expressions on their faces. They were smart girls after all, and Joss simply couldn’t seem to force a very convincing smile, and Isaiah simply couldn’t look away from her.

By the time dinner was over and the girls had abandoned them with the dirty dishes, Isaiah felt like he couldn’t breathe, and he was pretty sure he hated himself. Joss looked so exceptionally tense. She was holding her posture rigid as they stood at the sink rinsing dishes for the dishwasher.

“Joss…”

“Hmm…” She handed him the dish she’d rinsed without looking at him.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset.” She did stop what she was doing then. She shook the dishwater from her hands before turning to him. “I’m not. I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath as she concentrated on his face. “I’m very sorry for your loss. You don’t have to be ready to move on. It’s not required. You shouldn’t feel bad about that.”

He sucked in a breath of air as his heart pounded.

She had no idea how much he wanted to be ready. What she was saying was right, and it was valid, and if nothing else, she understood him at least—even if it still hurt her, she was willing to acknowledge that much.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m not in a good position to get involved with anyone, so please don’t feel bad.” It was only after she took a deep breath and let it out in a huff that she finally turned and walked away from him. “Good night, Isaiah.”

He didn’t respond. He was too busy gripping the counter with one hand as he stared at the floor. He couldn’t be certain if her last comment was said defensively or in truth, but it didn’t much matter, because he wanted her. It hurt how much he wanted to be ready for her.

* * * *

Isaiah saw Joss only in passing for the next couple weeks, and every time he did, his insides fluttered and his pulse quickened. She seemed nearly shy around him—odd to say the least, given there was nothing shy about her. But there it was—whenever he’d see her at volleyball practice, she’d politely nod, or wave, or even say hello, but her eyes glanced away quickly. She wasn’t avoiding looking at him; but she did seem far more comfortable looking at him when he wasn’t looking at her. He caught her watching him frequently, whether they were sitting apart from one another at a volleyball game or waiting for practice to end. It was all frustrating as hell to him. He missed her, but he also wasn’t sure he trusted himself not to make this worse for her.

After nearly three weeks of this madness, he was faced with a new challenge. He was serious when he’d said he wanted to look at houses again. He’d discussed it with Natalie, and as much as he was still leery of this town and their place in it, Nat wanted to plant roots. She was certainly struggling to stay out of the crosshairs of bullying at school, but she wanted to stick it out. That all meant at least a working relationship with his favorite real estate agent in the world. There was no way he was going to let the commission go to anyone but her, but of course, that required one-on-one time he wasn’t sure she’d be up for. He was. He was more than up for it. He needed it, but she had every right to want to keep her distance from a man who couldn’t seem to figure his shit out. Who would blame her?

Chapter Nine

“Hey, the hot daddy-o called to set up an appointment to look at houses again.” Steph was taunting. It’s what Steph did when conversation revolved around men.

“Huh. Wonder why he didn’t just mention it to me, or call me for that matter.” Joss looked up from the mail she was shuffling through her hands at the front desk of Bristol Realty. She wasn’t actually that shocked at all, given the fact neither of them seemed to know how to communicate with one another anymore—not that they’d ever been terribly good at it. “Probably best to forward him to Randall.”

“And that’s why he called me.” Steph bobbled her head. “He specifically said
not
to let you push him off onto Randall. Actually, he said
fucking
Randall. Not sure what he’s got against the man…” Her eyes shifted away from Joss as she considered it.

“He’s got nothing against Randall at all. He’s never met the man. Well, when did you schedule it?”

“Friday.”

“See.” Joss peered over the counter to Steph’s massive desk calendar. “Randall’s free.”

But just as quick as she did, Steph swiped her pencil down the Friday column of Randall’s schedule, leaving a jagged pencil mark in her wake. “Oops. Not free. Sorry, Charlie. You’re stuck with him.”

Joss grumbled as she glared at Steph. “Then call him and reschedule for a time when Randall is free.”

“Can’t do that.”

“And why not?” Her tone was getting a bit incredulous.

“Isaiah won’t be free then.”

“How could you possibly know?”

“Because he explicitly said he won’t be free when Randall is. Apparently, the man keeps an odd anti-Randall schedule. What can I say?” Steph’s tongue in cheek remark was literally coupled with her tongue in her cheek. “Just go. I know you like him. I also know you need the commission.”

“Hmm… Did you also know the man is still hung up on his dead wife? Hard to compete with them.”

“I do know, thank you, because you’ve been talking my ear off about it for weeks. You’re going. End of story.”

Joss spun on her heel dramatically before marching back to her office. Four days. Four days until she’d have to trade in the shy glances and polite gestures for real communication with the man. She wasn’t sure she was ready for this.

* * * *

Isaiah was watching Joss as she pulled up in the driveway of house one—or house eight really since she’d flipped their original list on its head. Her heart was racing as she pulled into the driveway, and his focus followed her from his place in his car at the curb. When she stepped from her car, he did the same. She couldn’t tell at all what kind of mood he was in. She’d shot off a text message less than an hour before asking him to meet her there rather than driving together from the office. Errands, she’d said. She was full of shit. She didn’t have a single errand to run. She was simply terrified and having a panic attack. It was odd that he had such an effect on her given they’d never done anything even noteworthy to suggest such a connection. He’d not asked her out, not kissed her, nothing at all that could explain why exactly she felt like shit since he’d been honest with her nearly a month before.

He’d been a rush to her system since the day they’d squared off with one another in the principal’s office, and now, life was back to the same old hum-drum boring bullshit—aside from the fleeting moments when she got to see him. But then she was such a spaz she couldn’t seem to act normal to save her life.

“Hi.” It was the same polite and safe greeting she’d been giving him for a while now, and she hated the sound of her voice when she said it.

“Thought you had errands to run.” He studied her, refusing to look away.

“I did.” She forced herself to stare right back at him.

“Why do people always think they can sell a lie by holding eye contact?” He said nothing else for a moment. “I only just pulled up, and I drove by your office on the way. I’m well aware you were there.” He watched her, but he didn’t give her a chance to respond before he turned and headed toward the door. “Shall we?”

She let him in the house, but once they made it to the kitchen, she stopped. “I’m sorry I lied.” She owed him that much at least, and since he was a walking lie detector, there was no sense denying it.

“Relax. I expected you would.” He winked at her before he walked away to the living room.

She followed him, wandering around the room. She’d been so terrified about this meeting that she’d made a trip to a small boutique the afternoon prior just to buy a new shirt. Sadly, it likely wasn’t worth the money she’d thrown down, but after spending an hour on her closet floor nearly comatose from the exhaustion of trying on twelve lackluster ensembles she already owned, she decided it was worth whatever the price might be. The skirt was the same as she’d worn on their previous house-hunting-mission-gone-bad, and as she shrugged out of her black pea coat and left it on the kitchen island, his gaze trailed slowly over her, studying her new billowy satin shirt.

The material was cold against her skin. It was every shade of gray, black, and white imaginable, swirled into a rather antique looking paisley pattern, but it was doing little to keep her warm in the rather cool house. She’d paired the outfit with her black boots that came nearly to her knees. They had a heel, and every step she took clicked and echoed off the cavernous empty walls and floor. It was only after she stopped, crossing her arms on her chest and returning his stare that he actually gave up his attention on her and started looking around. Odd, she’d worn the new shirt to attract his attention, and yet, when he’d given it to her, she’d instantly cooled and glared at him. Was this going to be her vengeance? Some pathetic immature power struggle?

His eyes kept shifting to her as he looked around. The living room was a decent size, and it had a beautiful stone fireplace that extended up to the vaulted ceilings above, but even that failed to capture his attention for longer than a second.

The house was a large two-story structure with four upstairs bedrooms, one of which was an impressive master suite that overlooked the water. Within minutes, he wandered off as she remained in the living room twiddling her thumbs and trying to calm the tremor in her hands. But ten minutes later, when she did catch up to him, she found him staring out the windows of the master bedroom upstairs.

“You know, you must be going for distraction gold wearing that skirt again today.” His voice had the warm seductive edge that instantly flushed her skin. “Can’t guarantee I’m going to be paying attention today any better than the first time.” He’d not bothered to turn to her as he spoke, but in the silence now, he slowly did round toward her, watching quietly and intently as he always did with his searing hazel green eyes.

“I chose my outfit unwisely, did I?”

His lips pulled up. And she forced a casual smirk even as her heart raced.

“No. You chose very wisely. You look beautiful. You always do.” He didn’t stop his attention from drifting down her figure. His face looked relaxed, and the tension was gone, but as she watched, he swallowed and his brow furrowed. “I don’t like the way things are with us.”

“Well, there it is—the truth as told by the one who made it so.” She instantly regretted saying it, as happened often to Joss.

His expression suddenly cooled, and his nostrils flared as he breathed. “Tell me, did you try to push me off on Randall?” He was back to smirking, seemingly having stowed whatever irritation may have been creeping in.

“Maybe.”

“I thought as much.”

She laughed quietly. He looked almost playful as he studied her ruefully. She could feel the warmth in her cheeks as she flushed.

“We should probably head to the next house.” But when she turned to leave, he quickly grabbed her elbow, spinning her to face the large windows that looked out to the shore in the distance.

She didn’t turn toward him, though. She just stilled in place, and before she could register his movements, she felt him closing in behind her body, letting his hand fall to her hip and pulling her into him. She started panting then. Her bottom was held snug to his groin, and she could feel the hardness of his arousal against her lower back. His lips tickled her earlobe as he leaned to her ear.

“I didn’t want you to leave that night.”

She whimpered as she felt the feather light movement of his lips against that most sensitive skin.

“I wasn’t asking you to. I understand why you did, but it wasn’t what I wanted.” His free hand gripped her other hip, and he held her tight to him, leaving not an ounce of space between their bodies. “I want you.”

She stopped breathing then, and he stilled, waiting behind her. She could feel his heart pounding against her back.

“Isaiah.” Her voice quivered as she whispered it out, and then he spun her again where she stood and pushed her to the window that was now behind her.