I walked with Isaac into my living room.
Patrick had been waiting patiently by the door, and he rushed in, sniffing us to make sure we didn’t do anything fun or eat anything delicious without him. Isaac liked my dog—I could tell by the way he looked at him and the way he rubbed and patted his side.
He turned and smiled at me once we reached the front door. "I guess I should be getting back to work."
I nodded. "Are you going to the jobsite?"
"I have some work to do at the hotel, but I'll probably go by the site before I go back there."
I couldn’t just let him leave. It was obvious by the way our conversation went that the ball was in my court, but I was so unpracticed at the art of flirting or whatever you want to call it that I didn't even know what to say. I desperately wanted to tell him that I was interested in him but I didn't know how to do it other than to come out and say I'm interested in you.
"I'd like to come see the jobsite sometime," I said.
"Right now?" he asked.
I honestly hadn't expected him to offer that so easily, so I glanced around with a surprised expression. "Can you do that?" I asked.
He smiled. "I'm sort of the boss," he said.
It was incredibly hot seeing someone who looked like Isaac say those words. I swallowed hard.
"I don't guess anything is really stopping me from going now, if you're sure."
"I’m sure," he said. "Come with me. It'll be fun."
I looked down at Patrick. "Get your sweet treat, boy," I said in the silly, excitable tone I almost always used when putting him in his kennel.
Patrick instantly turned tail and ran toward the laundry room.
"Let me just put him up," I called from over my shoulder.
Isaac and I discussed the option of me driving separately, but I chose to ride with him. He drove on side streets, taking his time getting downtown, and we talked without ceasing. I asked him questions about the building and his job in general, and then he did the same to me about my job.
We talked about our families. I filled him in on my brother and cousins, and he told me about his parents and his brother, who had two kids. Our conversation flowed so easily that pulling up at the jobsite was an unwelcome distraction. We sat in the parking spot for another thirty minutes after we arrived. He asked me about my parents and grandparents and I gave him details about the family businesses. He said that, aside from a little dirt bike his friend had when he was a kid, he had never ridden a motorcycle. I told him I had one of my own that I rode frequently, and he got the biggest kick out of that. He said he wished I had shown it to him when he was at my house, and I promised him I would when he dropped me off.
Isaac showed me around the jobsite. It wasn't going to be a skyscraper or anything, but there were a ton of people working, and it was a larger operation than I pictured, even after seeing the model. We had to wear hardhats as we walked around, and there were crews of men everywhere making all sorts of noises and doing all sorts of different jobs. We weren't able to climb stairs or anything yet, but he showed me what would be where and helped me envision everything.
I watched him as he walked around, talking to various people. He was calm, confident, and completely in charge, and I was incredibly proud of him even though I probably had no right to be.
We spent a couple of hours on the jobsite. I watched him work and communicate with others, and by the end of it, there was no doubt in my mind that I wanted Isaac Charles to be mine. I loved his personality and the way he conducted business. I had never met anyone else like him. I had no idea how to make my feelings known to him or if things would even ultimately work out for us in the long run, but I wanted him, plain and simple.
I had told him about my brother purchasing a store for his girlfriend, and Isaac was curious about it, so we went by there after we left. It was close to his hotel, and he needed to send a couple of emails from his computer, so we went by there as well. He offered to take me home first, but he said he would rather have me stay with him if I was willing, and I agreed without argument.
His hotel room was nice but not extravagant. It was a boutique hotel in an older building, and he had a nice view of Memphis's city streets from his room on the sixth floor.
I gazed out of his window while he took care of his emails, and I couldn't help but notice the little café on the corner where I had seen him the other night. I couldn't see our table from his window, but that didn't stop me from imagining the whole thing and remembering look on Isaac's face when he walked by and saw me there with my brother.
I heard him let out a sigh as he closed his laptop. "I'm all done," he said.
I glanced at him, and he smiled at me as he leaned back in his chair, casually putting his hands behind his head. He had taken off his vest when we came into the hotel and was now wearing jeans and a long-sleeve thermal shirt.
I had never been so attracted to a man.
I wanted to do something crazy like walk over there and sit on his lap. I wanted to kiss him; there was no question about it. He swiveled in his chair crossing his legs in front of him and grinning at me like he owned the world. The desire I felt for him was new and foreign to me. It caused a needling sensation to occur in my abdomen, and it was all I could do to keep myself from showing outward signs of it.
"What were you looking at?" he asked.
I glanced out of the window before looking at him again. "The streets," I said. "I like the view from up here."
He stood up and began crossing the room to join me at the window. I missed seeing him stretched out in that chair, but more than that, I wanted him closer to me. I was overwhelmed by his proximity. I could hardly stand to look at him. I shifted to look out the window again.
"That's where I was eating the other night," I said as he came to stand right next to me.
"I know."
I wanted to tease him about the fact that he was jealous of my brother, but I was so dang attracted to him that I didn't want to come across as overzealous. I made myself hold my tongue even though I was on the verge of mentioning it.
"I really hated your brother that night," Isaac said, gloriously reading my mind.
I could not stop a smile from spreading across my face, but I shook my head and rolled my eyes at him as if he was being silly.
"Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I was thinking maybe you thought Liam and I were there together. I mean, you know, not as brother and sister or whatever."
"Why, because I gave him the stank eye?" Isaac asked, making me laugh.
I stared out of the window because, honestly, it was difficult to look at him. He smelled and looked amazing, and it was just too much temptation. I wasn't accustomed to these sorts of feelings.
"It's different than Chicago," I said, changing the subject as I stared out the window.
"I know you said your dad's family lives there," he said. "Do you visit them often?"
"Only once or twice a year now."
"Did you used to go more?"
"Well, I went there a lot when I was little. I lived there, actually."
"Lived there? You? Chicago? When?"
I was amused by his surprise. "When I was a kid," I said. "So maybe it doesn't count. And I was only there for four years, and not even all year round."
"Four years definitely counts. Did your parents just move over there to be near your grandparents or something?"
I shook my head. "They were there for me. My dad's brother had a comedy sitcom in the nineties. It was pretty popular. It ran for seven seasons, and I was part of the last four. The family adopted me, and I—"
I stopped talking when Isaac's face fell.
He sank his face into his hand, letting out a long sigh.
"What?" I asked.
Isaac was silent for what seemed like an eternity but must have been ten seconds. Finally, I reached out and touched his arm—the one connected to the hand that was still covering his face.
"Isaac," I said. "Are you okay?"
He dropped his hand, staring straight at me for a few seconds before reaching out to gently touch my cheek. His fingertips grazed the side of my face with a feather-light touch as he stared intently at me.
"I know you're not the little girl from the Kevin Kennedy show."
"No, you don't know that," I said slowly, teasing him.
His fingers still rested on the side of my face, and they felt like they might cause a spark.
"Is that seriously you?" he asked, inspecting my face intensely.
I nodded. "Samantha," I said. "How's it shakin'?" I added, saying one of my character's catch phrases.
Isaac continued to stare at me like he was flabbergasted. "Shelby, this is seriously too much."
"What do you mean?"
"You. This. You. You're too much. I can't take it." He shook his head. "My family used to watch that show all the time. It's unbelievable to me that you're the same girl. I even had a crush on you back then. I thought you were the prettiest thing I had ever seen. I knew that show was filmed in Chicago, and always imagined myself running into you in the city. Of course, I thought I'd get to be on the show and become a big TV star."
"Dang," I said. "You're about twenty years late."
"Maybe for getting on the show," he said with a shrug. "But not for running into you."
I stuck out my hand to shake his as if meeting him for the first time, and he took my hand but didn't let go of it. He stared at me as he turned my hand in his adjusting it where our fingers could interlace. It took my breath away. I literally felt air leave my lungs, and I couldn't get it back.
Something more was happening between us in this moment. Isaac Charles was looking straight at me, and I was looking straight at him. He held onto my hand like he didn't have any intention of letting me go, and I held him right back. I was confused by how vulnerable I was—afraid of the overwhelming nature of my feelings.