My heart pounds. Her son has the same disability as me? My thoughts spiral even faster, but I don’t get another word out before she changes the subject.
“Want to play a game?” she asks, and my eyebrows raise.
“Okay, what kind of game?”
“Nothing too serious, just a twist on something Charlie and I do at dinner each night. It’s called rose and thorn. The rose is the best part of something and the thorn is the worst. We use it as a way to catch up on our days.”
I nod. “Sounds easy enough.”
She smiles. “But the twist is, it doesn’t have to be about our days. So what’s your rose and thorn from, say, university?”
I consider my answer for a minute. There are thingsI’m not ready to reveal. But I don’t want to lie, so I get creative. “Rose would be my thesis project. Thorn would be the loan debt I had to pay off after graduating.”
Isla laughs. “Tell me about it, I'm still trying to do that.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to offer to pay it off for her as I’m hit with another spike of desire to protect her. Ridiculous, insane, and over-the-top as it might sound, I want to do that for her. But I’m smart enough not to say it. “Okay, your turn. Same question.”
She lets her head fall back against the wall, her gaze going upward. “Rose, managing to graduate while raising a toddler. Thorn would be the statistics class I almost failed.” She makes an adorable face. “I hate statistics.”
I chuckle. “I don’t blame you. There’s a reason Dom is the numbers guy.”
“You two are close.”
“Very. We’ve been friends since we were kids. He and his wife are high school sweethearts, and probably the two people who know me the best, aside from my parents.”
“Sounds like me and Juniper. She’s my best friend.”
We smile at each other, our gazes locked. The wall between us, that of boss and employee, feels like it’s come down and we’re just two people getting to know each other.
Which is dangerous and thrilling, all at the same time.
“My turn to pick a question,” I say. I want to knoweverything about this brilliant, beautiful woman. “Rose and thorn for luxury items.”
“That’s an intriguing question.” Isla smiles. “Rose is definitely a high-quality Earl Grey tea with real bergamot. It’s so much better than the stuff that uses artificial flavourings.”
“Do you have a favourite brand?”
Her face falls slightly. “I’ve only had it a couple of times. The artificial flavouring is a lot more affordable.” She laughs, but it sounds forced. I hate that and make a mental note to have Gabe research the best tea brands.
“Anyway, thorn would be private jets. I can’t get past how bad it is for the environment. Carbon footprint and all.”
“Agreed.” I nod.
Her expression turns teasing. “You might be the only billionaire who doesn’t have one.”
“Millionaire.” I correct with a shrug. “And first class can still be pretty damn luxurious.” I wink and she giggles, shaking her head with a faint blush. God, she’s pretty. I wonder how far down that blush goes. I don’t realize we’ve both leaned in closer to each other until I register the dilation of her pupils and hear her intake of breath.
I shift back. Damn. I almost kissed her.
Isla’s tongue darts out to lick her lower lip. My gaze zeros in on it.
Fuck.
Then she clears her throat. “My turn. Rose and thorn for food.”
I welcome the distraction and try to convince mydick to calm down. Nothing is going to happen right now. “Easy. Rose is the miso-glazed black cod with truffle-infused quinoa and roasted vegetables from The Lookout,” I say, naming a high-end restaurant on the mainland. “Thorn would be pickles. Those things are nasty.”
Isla’s amused smirk makes her eyes sparkle. “That’s one fancy-sounding dish. But I’m with you on the pickles. Totally gross.”
