I came up right beside her and she shot me a look of annoyance, but I saw the side of her lip turn up slightly before she slowed, falling behind me. I nudged Trapper to a halt, pulling on his reins and turning, trotting back to where Isabelle now stood. I squinted at her, smiling. She was so damn beautiful sitting atop her horse, her hair almost completely loose from her braid, the red highlights glinting as they picked up the sunlight. She was fresh-faced, not a lick of makeup, wearing old jeans and a sweatshirt that looked about two sizes too big, and she was the most stunning woman who’d ever walked the earth.
“You’re staring.”
&nb
sp; “I know. You’re beautiful.”
She blinked and looked down for a second and then back up at me, a stain of pink blossoming on her cheeks. “Flattery won’t work. I still won’t marry you.”
I chuckled, looking off into the horizon for a second. When I looked back at Isabelle my expression was serious. “I’m not trying to flatter you, Belle.” I rode closer so the sides of our horses’ bellies touched. I took her hand in mine. “I wish I could do last night over.”
Her eyes lingered on mine for a second. “Yeah? What would you have done differently?”
I used one finger to run along the delicate bones of her knuckle. “First of all, I would have told you I was sorry for leaving without saying goodbye.” I watched my hand holding hers for a moment, hers so much smaller than mine. She was so strong, so courageous, and yet she was so delicate too. This woman who’d shown up in my world and knocked me sideways. “I’m sorry, Belle.” I met her eyes. “You deserved more than that. I convinced myself it was better for everyone if I left. But the truth was, I was spinning in a hundred different directions and needed to get myself straight. But even so, I should have found you. I should have at least said goodbye. I should have told you how much that night meant to me.”
She watched me, taking her bottom lip into her mouth. My jeans suddenly felt tight. I remembered what that full lip tasted like and wanted to taste it again.
You could. If she was yours you could taste it every day for the rest of your life.
“And, I should have greeted you properly last night. I should have bought you a drink and wished you a happy birthday. Let me make it up to you, Belle. Let me take you out tonight.”
She looked away. “I saw you, you know, online with that blonde on your arm.” Vulnerability skated over her expression before she glanced back. She’d looked me up. Somehow that knowledge brought me hope. She’d thought about me while we’d been apart too. Wondered enough to look online and find a picture of me with some blonde. Blonde? Ah, Sondra. The fundraiser. I’d seen her for two minutes, max. “Why come back for me when you have women like that waiting for you in New York?”
Women like that? I studied Belle for a moment, gorgeously disheveled, clothes worn for comfort and function, not style. Did she consider herself less beautiful, less desirable when put next to a woman like Sondra? God, if she only knew. “I’m not interested in her or anyone else, Belle. We dated casually for a short time and she happened to be at the same event as me a couple of weeks ago. Our picture was taken together, that’s all. There’s only one woman I’m hoping like hell will let me take her to dinner tonight and that’s you.”
She tilted her head, still looking skeptical and my chest tightened as I waited for her answer.
“Just dinner,” I said.
“No marriage proposal?” Her lip quirked up slightly.
I laughed. “I’ll try my best.”
Isabelle released a breath, and I could almost hear her mind working through the arguments for and against dinner. She lifted her chin. “All right. Dinner.”
My heart soared and I grinned. “I missed you,” I admitted, both to her and to myself. I’d missed her voice, her laugh, the way she challenged and excited me. I’d missed her strength—the way she could still smile after all she’d lost. Yeah, I’d missed her, and I didn’t want to miss her anymore.
“You did?” she asked. Isabelle clicked her tongue at Pretty Penny, and the horse lifted her head from where she’d been grazing again and moved forward, carrying Isabelle away from me. “I agree to dinner. But I swear, Brant Talbot, if you mention anything about marrying you, the date’s over.”
I laughed, turning and following her as she moved in the direction of the stable.
**********
The restaurant in a small town about half an hour away was just as I remembered it—quaint and inviting with a large fireplace in the center of the room. It was an old farmhouse that had been converted into a restaurant.
The hostess showed us to a table at the edge of the stone hearth, and we both took a seat, the warmth of the fire making me feel relaxed and at ease. I looked at Isabelle across the table, noting for the second time that night how pretty she looked. She’d left her hair down where it curled in soft waves, and it looked like she had some makeup on. She was wearing a black dress that wrapped around her slim body, a tie holding it closed just above her hip. I wanted to pull at that small bow and see if the dress fell off her as I suspected it would. Moving those frustrating thoughts aside, I took a drink of water.
“The first time I met you, you were wearing a blue and white sundress,” I said. “It slipped off your shoulder and I practically had to hold my own hand down not to pull it back up, just to get closer to you, to graze your skin for a moment.”
Belle blinked at me, setting the water glass she’d just taken a sip from on the table. “You were such a jerk to me that day. I thought you hated me.”
“I did, sort of. Because I wanted you and I thought you and my father . . .” I waved my hand, not wanting to even put words to what I’d thought. “I didn’t admit it to myself, but yeah, I was sick with jealousy.”
“Of your father? Oh, Brant.”
“I know, I know.” I grimaced. “I didn’t like it either. In fact, I hated it.”
She tilted her head, her gaze washing over me and seeming to soften as a smile played at her mouth. “So you acted like an ass.”