“We’ve got a problem,” Spence says.
“They’re not leaving,” I add.
“Fuck,” Isla hisses. “So much for your theory that my family wouldn’t eat in a place like this.”
“You’re hiding from your family?” Thea jumps in.
“My dad,” Isla replies. “And my ex-husband. They don’t know I’m in town, and I want to keep it that way.”
I stare over at the group, wondering which one Isla married. They all look like the polar opposite of me—clean-cut, stuffy, spoiled. Custom-tailored suits, watches, and haircuts that cost light-yearsbeyond what I could afford. Not that I’d want to. I played hockey with enough guys like this, from families like theirs, to know that I don’t want these people in my life.
Apparently, one of them was once Isla Covington’s type. It confirms what I’d thought from that first night we met fourteen years ago—that I’d never belong in her world or be enough for her.
Knowing that doesn’t stop me from wanting to help her.
“I’ve got an idea,” I tell her. “But you’re going to have to trust me.”
Isla scoffs. “Really.”
“He’s got his serious face on,” Spence says. “You can trust him.”
“Does he have another face?” she quips.
Thea covers her mouth while she chews a bite of her sandwich. “I haven’t seen it.”
“Do you want to get out of here or not?” I ask.
Isla lets out a long sigh. “Fine. It could be a while. They like their leisurely lunches.”
“Okay, this is what we’re going to do,” I say. “Spence, grab to-go containers from the counter and pack up our food. Also, snag one of the baseball caps to hide Isla’s hair. Thea, I need you to play a song on the jukebox, something to distract them. And Isla, you’ll crawl out from under the table and climb onto my back so I can carry you out of here.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Isla’s voice cracks. “Absolutely not.”
“You’re welcome to walk out instead. Your call.”
Another groan. “Fine, but your hands better not roam anywhere they shouldn’t be.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Red. I’m doing you a favor, not scheming to cop a feel. I’m not one of the sleazes you’re hiding from.”
Spencer returns and begins packing our meals, as Isla climbs through to my side of the table. I place the baseball cap onto her head, her hands swatting mine away from her. She tucks her hair into the cap, adjusting it until she’s comfortable with the fit.
“Ready?” I ask.
Her fiery gaze meets mine. “I hate this plan.”
“I’m not thrilled with it either.” I tilt my body to the side, legs spilling into the aisle between our table and the next one. “Hop on.”
The places that phrase sends my mind are extremely inconvenient for our current circumstances. I bite the inside of my mouth to distract from Isla sliding her legs around my hips. The warmth of her body pressing into my back, inching closer until she’s flush against me. My hands slide underneath her legs, grazing the edge of her jean shorts and the soft skin of her thighs. I grip her firmly, tight enough to ensure I won’t drop her when I stand.
Thea’s song—some obnoxious pop song about Jeff Bezos—blasts through the speakers, giving me a welcome distraction.Nice going, Thea.
“Why?” Isla whispers the word in my ear once I’m standing at my full height.
I swallow hard, keeping my gaze focused forward to avoid looking at her. Her head rests over my right shoulder to remain harder to see, especially through my loose hair.
“Why, what?” I walk to the door, avoiding the temptation to check if the group Isla’s avoiding is paying attention.
“Why are you helping me?”
