Move the Sun (Signal Bend #1)(38)

So was she; she knew it. She shook her head. This was all a bad, bad idea. She had no business getting involved with him. “Isaac, I”—she was overtaken by a huge yawn. Embarrassed, she stuttered, “God. I-I’m-I’m sorry.”

He laughed. “It’s cool. Let’s sleep. We can talk tomorrow.” He shifted to lay his head on the pillow, and he stretched out his arm to invite her close. He wanted her to lie on him and sleep. No. That was another bad, bad idea.

He obviously sensed her hesitation, because he smiled and said, “Lilli, I don’t bite—well, only when you ask me to. I just want to feel you. There hasn’t been a woman in this bed in a very, very long time.

Every time he said her name, she felt like he was pulling her closer to some point of no return. She relented, and lay down in the warm curl of his arm, her head pillowed on his firm, gorgeous chest. He kissed her head and turned out the light.

oOo

“Lilli! Fuck—Lilli!”

She came awake with a start. She was straddling Isaac, and he was holding her hands—curled into claws—away from his head. She relaxed immediately and leapt away from him and off the bed. Her head felt like elephants were doing the merengue on her cerebellum.

“Sorry. Sorry. Fuck.” She backed toward the door. Goddamn it, she wished she knew how to get back to her place.

He got up and came toward her. “It’s okay. You just freaked me out. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just a dream.”

“Helluva dream, Sport.”

“Yeah. I’m okay—it’s gone now. I’ll just—you have a couch or something I can sleep on?” It was still too early to be light.

He reached her and took her hands. “Nope. No couch for sleeping. Come back. I’m cool. You’re cool.

We’ll just go back to sleep.”

She didn’t want to, but f*ck her head hurt. “Okay. Got any aspirin?”

He grinned. “You bet. Here, just get back in bed”—he helped her in and covered her up—“and I’ll be right back.”

He brought her aspirin with another big glass of water. She took the pills and drank all the water. When he got back into bed, he pulled her down, her back to his chest. Tired, hurting, and freaking out, Lilli didn’t resist. They spent the rest of the night, quietly, sleeping like spoons.

oOo

When she woke again, the room was bright with morning sun, and Isaac was sitting, fully clothed in his usual Johnny Cash ensemble, on the side of the bed, his hand on her leg.

“Morning, hellcat. You feelin’ okay?”

She was, actually. Some residual headache, and some soreness in her nethers, but she felt okay. “Yeah.

Hungry. Do you have breakfast things here?”

He winked and patted her thigh. “I’m not much in the kitchen, but there’s coffee, and a bunch of different kinds of cereal, hot or cold.” He dangled a black t-shirt on his finger. “I owe you a new top, and I’m good for it, but you can have this for now. The rest of your clothes are on that chair in the corner.” He nodded toward a really nice wood and leather chair, on which she could see her jeans and underwear. “I put out a fresh towel if you want a shower. Sorry I don’t have an extra toothbrush, but the paste is on the counter.

She felt awkward and shy. She hadn’t been in this position in . . . she’d never been in this position before. “Thanks, Isaac.” She sat up.

He moved closer to the head of the bed and leaned over her, his hands on either side of her hips. He kissed her gently, running his tongue softly over her lips. “Mmmm. Don’t mention it, Sport. You and I need to talk, though, I think.”

She agreed, so she nodded.

“Okay. I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Down the hall, to your right, through the living room.” He gave her another quick kiss and left the room.

oOo

She felt fresher, less sore, and nearly at full power when she found him in his kitchen. She’d taken a mini-tour on the way, not snooping, but paying attention to what she saw. There was a lot—a lot—of beautiful wood furniture throughout his house. Must be worth a fortune. What décor he had was mostly wood, too, some amazing sculpted pieces made of different colors and types of wood. Even the picture frames were lovely. There was a wall of photos in the main hallway, and she’d lingered over those. Isaac seemed to have come from a family of four—mom, dad, older sister, and Isaac. The photos seemed to stop when Isaac was in his early teens. As she went on through the living room, she noted with pleasure a full wall of gorgeous bookcases, nearly overflowing with books.

The kitchen was a very basic country kitchen which didn’t seem to have been updated since the 1940s.

Even the appliances were old—a monstrous white double gas range, and a refrigerator that long predated the “frost-free” era. The sink was a huge porcelain thing with drainboards on both sides. The cabinets were wood, painted white, with fabric front panels. Lilli thought there were tiny, faded strawberries on the fabric.

The floor was an old fashioned sheet linoleum in a faded red color with little gilt flakes in it.

There was a long, narrow table, with beautifully turned legs, under a big window. On it sat a coffeemaker, a pop-up toaster, and a microwave.

Lilli was starting to get the idea that Isaac lived in his childhood home. He lived alone in his childhood home.