Before she could decide one way or another, her phone chimed and vibrated against the coffee tabletop, bringing her out of the trance.
Like a moth to a bug zapper, eyes had a natural attraction to a text on a cellphone. Unfortunately, they both glanced at it at the same time, so there would be no way to hide it or lie about it. The message was enough to not only put a pause on their intimate moment but put a stop to it altogether.
Harrison: Call me. We need to talk. I want to work this out. I love you.
Chapter Thirteen
Isabella
At least byday three when she trudged downstairs for breakfast, Isabella expected Leo to be there. And sure enough—there he was, sitting inherseat next to Norah, looking far too sexy in his fitted thermal shirt and dark jeans, especially given that it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet.
She resisted the urge to check him out further, and headed straight for the coffee, muffling a yawn with her hand.
“Dang, Izz. What happened to you last night?” Finn asked from the dining room table. “You drink too much of Mom’s eggnog?”
“Finn,” Nina hissed.
Isabella glared at her brother. “I just didn’t sleep good.”
Dad stood in front of the machine wearing his flannel pajama pants and worn-out slippers. He poured coffee into a mug with a jolly Santa printed on the front and handed it to her. She accepted it like the glorious gift that it was and brought it to her nose, inhaling the heavenly scented roast.
The text from Harrison still sat on Isabella’s phone unanswered. Seconds after it came through, her siblings burst from the kitchen, Mom’s eggnog with extra rum in hand. There’d been no call to Harrison and no kiss with Leo, much as she’d wanted—needed—the latter. Between Leo’s threatening lips and Harrison’s abrupt text, it had been the missed kiss that kept her awake much of the night. She’d tossed and turned, getting tangled in the penguin-printed flannel sheets, resulting in crappy sleep. She didn’t know what to feel or think, how to deal with the man from her past or the one in her present.
After waking up on the wrong side of the bed, she always felt better if she was a bit put together. She’d brushed out the rat’s nest of hair from her jumbled night, washed her face with her favorite brightening cleanser, and dressed in a pair of black leggings and a flannel. This time she’d even come to breakfast with a bra on. Progress from the day before.
Isabella poured a splash of milk and two teaspoons of sugar into her coffee, stirring it while murmurs from her family at the table began again. She lifted her eyes to Leo who was watching her over the brim of his mug. His gaze activated that annoying clenching between her thighs.
It was too early to be trying to figure out the confusing men in her life. Certainly too early to be thinking about steamy kisses and bedroom eyes. Her vision darted to the floor. Dad’s coffee-stained slippers with holes in the toes distracted her, reminding her of the Christmas gifts she ordered and had sent gift-wrapped to Mom and Dad’s for the family.
“Hey, Dad? Did the packages I had sent arrive?”
“Good morning to you.” He took a sip of his coffee.
She smiled, running a hand over her tired face. “Morning.”
“Yes, just like every other year, I believe all packages have been received, wrapped, and accounted for. It’s a snazzy system you’ve worked out.” He elbowed her in the side like the two were in cahoots. The coffee in her mug sloshed and she held it out, praying it wouldn’t spill. She needed every drop this morning.
“Well, I’d planned on shopping when I got here. Ya know, mix it up a bit? But I figured with Eight Days of Christmas and wedding preparations, I wouldn’t have enough time.”
“It’s the thought that counts, sweetie,” Dad said, cheers-ing his coffee mug into Isabella’s.
“I guess we can thank Amazon.” She took a sip of her coffee, allowing her eyes to drift closed for just a second so she could savor the delicious, robust brew.
“Hear, hear.” Dad put his own mug to his lips and winked at her over the brim.
She knew she wasn’t the perfect daughter, that she’d made mistakes over the years—plenty of them, but Dad understood her. And she was trying to undo some of the wrongs she’d done. This time, she wanted to leave Pineridge on good terms.
“So, is everyone up for some ice skating?” Dad asked. “We better get a move on.”
“I am,” Norah said in her usual singsong.
“Yeah, of course you are. You just want to show off your fancy footwork.” Landon gave her a lingering kiss.
“Don’t you know it.” She patted his cheeks.
Leo swiveled to face Landon. “You see, what I don’t get is how you’re no good at ice skating. You grew up in Colorado. Our school had an ice-skating rink.”
“Because, big bro. I spent my time on the basketball court, showing off for the ladies. Not on the ice rink like you. I was busy playing the field while you were freezing your ass off.” Landon carried his empty mug into the kitchen.
