Our Finest Hour (The Time #1)(60)

“I know,” I say quickly.

“You’re still used to doing everything yourself.” She hugs around my shoulders. “You don’t have to anymore.”

I nod and thank her, leaving the room as fast as I can go while still looking like I’m not rushing. I have to get away from the motherly affection. Because I love it, but I love it too much, and the force of it is too great.

When I get to my room I go straight for the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. I’m almost done getting ready when my phone chirps with a text message.

Isaac-Someone’s at the front door. Can you answer it?

What?

I slip on my shoes and go to the front door, tossing a glance at Lucia and Claire on my way. Lucia glances up at me from the coloring book she and Claire are sharing. She's filling in Strawberry Shortcake’s legs while Claire tackles her hair.

Why didn’t Lucia get the door?

I pull it open. Isaac stands there, beaming. He extends a tub of ice cream with a note on the top.

Not flowers.

A tiny laugh escapes me, like a breath, then it's followed by more. I take the ice cream from him, it's chill giving me shivers, and turn it in my hands. How is it that he remembers his curbside declaration? It was so long ago.

“No death wrapped in tissue paper for Aubrey,” he says, taking the ice cream from me and walking to the kitchen. Grabbing utensils from the drawer, he spoons out a bite for me. I reach for the handle of the spoon but he pulls back and raises his eyebrows. I roll my eyes and open my mouth, allowing him to feed me.

Claire and Lucia giggle, and Claire asks for her own bowl. “Big,” she tells Isaac, her eyes serious.

He gives her twice the amount I would, but I don’t say anything. Lucia’s the one who will have to deal with her sugar-high and inevitable meltdown.

After ice cream kisses from Claire, we leave. Isaac locks the front door behind us, then pauses. He lifts a piece of hair and tucks it behind my ear. “That’s how our first date would have started.”

“It would have been a good first date.”

He puts a curled finger beneath my chin and lifts it. “It is going to be a great first date.” And then he gently presses his lips to mine.





Like a gentlemen, Isaac opens the car door for me. Though I don’t need it, he offers a hand. My first instinct is to ignore it and climb in without help. I could pretend not to see the gesture, and then it would be attributed to typical Aubrey behavior. But I don’t.

I slip my hand in his. His other hand lands on the small of my back, guiding me into his truck. It’s so proper. So… first date. Considering he had the milk before he purchased the cow, I’m surprised he’s being so gallant.

Maybe the milk is different now. Maybe the cow has changed.

The slam of the passenger door brings me back to the moment.

Isaac slides into his seat and smiles at me across the space. He looks so happy, so present. So certain life will always be good to him. He turns on the truck, and I wince. The music blares through the speakers.

“Sorry,” he yells, pushing a button on the steering wheel. The volume decreases until it’s only background noise.

I stare at him. “Seriously?”

“About which part? The volume or…” His lips twist. “The selection?”

I keep the stare going a few more seconds. It won’t hurt him to sweat a little. When his eyes widen, I break my silence. “My dog died,” I croon, trying not to laugh. “My six-pack is warm,” I sing off-key on purpose. “My lady just left me, but I’m country down to my roots and my boots.”

Isaac throws me a disgusted look and puts it into reverse. I purse my lips, my muted laughter shaking my shoulders. We pass through the residential area and move into the commercial part of town.

“So…” I say, drawing out the word.

“Not all country music is about dogs, beer, and women.” Isaac’s voice is defensive. Not a lot, but just enough to tell me that he really likes it.

Still, I can’t help myself. “What about boots?” I laugh when I say the last word. “Boots and roots?” This time I can’t keep it in. I’m laughing so hard I might as well slap my knee.

“Oh, so now Aubrey is funny?”

I sober a little. “No, not usually. But that music… it really struck a chord with me.” I bite my lower lip, my shoulders shaking again with contained laughter.

Now Isaac laughs too. “Fine.” He takes one hand off the wheel and holds it in the air. “I have a thing for country music. There, I said it.”

I tap his knee. “Admitting is the first step.”

“What’s the next step?” He stops at a red light and turns to meet my eyes. He’s backlit by the lights of the cars driving the opposite direction.

Suddenly the cab of his truck feels full, the air thick. I drag in a breath, my chest expanding with the thickened air. How quickly we’ve gone from lighthearted teasing to whatever this is.

I don’t have words for him. I don’t have next steps. I have only me, and the jagged scars that tell the stories on my heart.

I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know who leaned in first. All I know are Isaac’s lips on mine, his softness yielding, melting, until we’re breathing the same air. So different from the chaste peck at the front door.