She worried the inside of her cheek like I’d seen her do so many times before. It was probably something she didn’t even know she did.
I took a step closer, and she took one back. We repeated the dance until her shoulders hit the barn wall and she had nowhere left to go.
“What are you running from?”
“I’m not running?—”
“You’re terrified. I can see it.”
She laughed, but the sound came out broken. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
“Wrong.” I planted a hand on the wall beside her head. “You’re not as good an actress as you think you are.”
Her eyes met mine. Green and wide and full of things she wasn’t saying. Neither of us moved. The air between us felt charged—almost dangerous.
Then footsteps crunched on the gravel behind me.
“Izzy, are you okay?”
I turned when a man approached. He was tall, dark-haired, and familiar, wearing expensive boots that had actually seen work. He studied Isabel with concern, then me with wariness.
Isabel exhaled like she’d been holding her breath. “It’s okay, Bas.”
Bas. Sebastian Whitmore. Thomas’s son. I’d seen him at a few wine industry events over the years.
When I stepped away, he positioned himself between me and Isabel. Not threatening, but the message was direct. “Avila. What are you doing here?”
“Talking to Isabel.”
“Does she want you here?” He looked at her, and I caught the way his expression softened. It was protective in a way that made my teeth clench.
An ache I didn’t want to acknowledge twisted in my sternum.
“Do you want him escorted off the property?” Bas asked her.
I was about to protest, to puff out my chest like he was, but then I saw Isabel hesitate and waited. I could see the war playing out. Fear, but not of me—that was a relief—mixed with something else. Connection maybe? Neither of us could deny we had one. “He’s okay,” she responded.
Bas didn’t like that answer, but he nodded before looking at me one more time. Then he turned to Isabel. “I’ll be close by if you need me. Anything at all, Izzy.”
“You hate it when people call you that,” I said once he was far enough away not to hear me.
“Only some people.”
I raised a brow, but dropped the argument I was about to launch into when she wrapped her arms around herself.
She looked small and vulnerable. Everything she used to hide behind an icy demeanor.
“Why are you here?” The question burst out of her. “You made it very clear what you thought of me. I’m spoiled and?—”
“I apologized. More than once,Izzy.”
I expected her to make some kind of fuss, but she didn’t.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” She turned away. “You need to go.”
“I can’t?—”
Her eyes filled with tears she blinked away with fierce determination. “Please, Kick. If you ever cared about me at all, just go. Tell my father I’m alive. Tell him I’ll come home when I’m ready. But don’t tell him where I am.”
