I offer her a small smile. “Yeah. Thanks, Grams.”
She leans down to kiss the side of my head and whispers, “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I pick up my fork and start eating, taking time to look at all the people in my family. There’s nothing but love and understanding here. Unbreakable loyalty. We’re amongst the richest families in Australia, but it has nothing to do with money. I don’t know what I’d do without them.
My phone beeps again, my watch buzzing with the notification.
BUTTERCUP:
Is it weird to say I kindamiss you?
I’ve been so surprised by the way I’ve needed Isabelle. I’ve been curious about her, protective over her, all driven by a force I can’t control or comprehend. Before I could even get a handle on the way I felt drawn to her, I didn’t consider the fact that maybe she was needing me right back.
Is it possible that I could be something to someone again?
Chapter twenty-four
“Earth to Gage.”
My attention is pulled back by Keeley, who looks at me with one dark eyebrow arched.
“What?”
“I said, would you like some alcohol with those limes?” She looks pointedly down at the glass in my hand, which is filled with about twenty lime slices.
“Shit.” I put the glass under the bench and grab another to start the margarita all over again, apologising when I finally hand it over to the woman waiting for her drink.
I look to the door once more, but there’s still no sight of those golden curls I’m itching to see. I love when Isabelle has them piled up on top of her head, usually with a bright scarf, her creamy neck on display, like an invitation for my teeth or my hands.
I’m losing my mind. I need her like a hit of adrenaline, and I’m crashing out. I can feel myself growing agitated, knowing that she’ll be here soon, but not wanting to wait any longer. Fuck, what is this hold she has over me? I’m normally the one with the control. I demand it, expect it. My phone feels like it’s burning in the back pocket of my jeans, calling out to message Isabelle and find out when she’ll be here. I’m seconds away from caving when I glance at the door yet again, and my eyes zero in on a halo ofglowing spirals. I watch as it navigates through the heavy crowd, slowly making its way toward the front of the bar and finally, the crowd parts enough that I can see Isabelle’s face.
Her hair is down, hanging over one shoulder and fuck, she’s wearing that tan suede corset I saw her in a few months ago. An honest to God shiver runs down my back as I stare at her beautiful figure. Modest breasts pushed high on her chest, and that silver chain with the rose quartz she wears all the time glitters in the light. Dark blue denim hugs her hips and thighs, begging for me to grip them. When I make it to her angelic face, those blue eyes render me speechless. A soft pink is painted on her pouty lips, and there’s something shimmery dusted on the tops of her cheeks, but that could just be her. She lights up every room.
I move down to the end of the bar, where stools are set up, right as Isabelle gets there and props herself up on a seat.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask. My heart pumps, both calm and erratic, as I place my hands on the bartop and stare down at her.Maybe I need to get that looked into.
Isabelle grants me a sly smile as she picks up the cocktail menu resting beside her.
“Hmm, how about a leg spreader? I’ve never tried that cocktail before.”
I drop my head, puffing out my amusement, before straightening my face and looking at her again.
“No?” she asks, as if she’s so innocent, then goes back to browsing the menu. “How about a creamsicle?”
My fingers drum on the surface of the bar, and I run my tongue over my bottom lip, flicking the ring through the middle. Smug satisfaction fills me as I watch her eyes track the movement.
“One creamsicle coming up,” I say, then grab a chilled glass from the fridge under the bench and start filling it withice and vodka.
I keep letting my eyes stray to her as I search through each of the garnish tubs before finding the sherbet. I drop to my haunches, reaching into the underbench freezer to grab the lemon sorbet, and when I pop up again, I find her watching me intently. One hand propping up her chin, and a cute little smile on her face. I top her drink with orange juice, a bit of prosecco, and stir it all up before placing an orange twist on the side.
“One creamsicle,” I say and put the bubbly, citrus concoction in front of her.
“Thank you.” She smiles and plucks a straw from the holder beside her. Dipping it into her drink, she brings it to her lips, and with her eyes on me, she sucks.
“Did you have a good day?” I ask, and I revel in the way her eyes go from flirty to sweet.
