“Isabelle, I like you,” Lars stated. “You’re on point. I was afraid you were going to waste hours of our life with this.”
“Are you always this sarcastic?”
“Yes,” Lars declared stoically.
Isabelle narrowed her eyes at him. “No, you just like me because you think Brayden lost because of me.”
Lars grinned. “That’s the primary reason, true. Which reminds me, I’m hosting a party here tomorrow evening. It’s my birthday. The opportunity to play some games might arise. Care to join us and help Brayden lose again?”
Isabelle laughed softly, looking around the group. Still avoiding my gaze.
“Maybe I’ll cheer you on this time, Lars,” she teased.
“Ha! No. Don’t even suggest it, or I’ll uninvite you.”
“Aha! It’s too late for that. Okay, back to business. I suggest I talk to each of you one-on-one. Brayden came by my office already, and we went through all the questions. Lars, you want to be the first one?”
“Sure, why not?”
I went back to the rehearsal room with Harvey and Thomas while we waited. Once Lars finished, he joined us, and Harvey spoke to Isabelle. Thomas was last. Usually, I had no problems focusing 100 percent on the music, but now I kept thinking about Isabelle. I didn’t want to risk her leaving without my knowing, so I went down when Thomas texted me that his interview was over.
Thomas patted my back as he went back up to the guys. Isabelle was alone in the living room, sitting on the couch and tapping on her iPad.
She glanced over her shoulder and immediately straightened up when she noticed me. Smiling, she returned her focus to the iPad.
“Are you going to avoid looking at me the whole time? It’s going to make for an awkward party.”
She sighed. “No, but it’s easier to resist all those sexy vibes you’re giving off if I don’t make eye contact. Otherwise, I might get carried away and succumb to this insane attraction.”
She was killing me. I loved that she pulled no punches and always spoke her mind.
I sat on the armrest right next to her. “Maybe that’s what I want.”
She looked up, shaking her head. “I need a tour of the cottage. Am I right thinking you’ll volunteer?”
I leaned in even closer. “You bet I will.”
Clearing her throat, she rose to her feet. “Okay, let’s get moving.”
I stood slowly, smiling. “You think if we’re on the move I can’t flirt with you?”
Shaking her head, she elbowed me lightly. “You’re welcome to flirt as much as you want, Mr. Rock Star. My panties will stay firmly in place. Not even that sinful smile can melt them.”
I burst out laughing. She was definitely something else.
“Come on. Flirt and show me around. I want to see this place. It’s super interesting, and I think fans would love to see snippets of it.”
“As long as we’re not moving into reality show territory.”
She waved her hand. “Not at all. Just giving them enough of a glimpse so they can connect with you.”
I held the door open for her, and she stepped out first. I walked right next to her, making a concerted effort not to touch her—not even her lower back or her arm; I instinctively knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from kissing her if I touched her at all.
Seeing the cottage through her eyes was fascinating. She was mesmerized by all our entertainment rooms, especially the ones with the pool table and the home theater.
“Want to see the rehearsal rooms too?”
“Of course. I think that’s what the fans would like to see most.”
I walked behind her as we climbed the staircase to the last level. Fucking hell, that ass of hers was driving me crazy. Her jeans were low-cut, and she walked with a slight swing in her hips.
“Brayden? Are you listening?”
She glanced over her shoulder, cocking a brow. She’d caught me in the act.
I shrugged, flashing her one of my trademark panty-melting smiles. She pointed a finger at my eyes before lowering it to my mouth.
“Okay, I’ve changed my mind. I won’t have any of that.”
“Why not?” I climbed another step, which put me level with her.
“Because I might turn around and jump you.”
I’d never met anyone so sassy.
“I don’t have anything against that,” I assured her. “I promise I can carry you up these stairs no problem.”
I thought that would make her blush. Instead, she touched my right bicep with her thumb and forefinger, then the left one.
“Yeah, these seem rock solid.”
Winking, she turned around, walking up the stairs quicker than before.
Smiling, I followed her.
She took her time in each of the rooms, especially in the main one, heading straight to my piano, walking around it, touching the edge. I’d love to bend her over it, strip her naked, and sink inside her. A vivid image popped in my mind, and I had to make a concerted effort to focus on her words.
“So, I think if you record any clips of you rehearsing, or just being in this room, it would make fans happy. I’d say start doing this, and then you can go from there, depending on the fans’ reaction.”
“Sounds good.”
Something in my tone must have clued her in that my thoughts were elsewhere, because she turned around.
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. Perhaps she could tell we were toeing on a fine line. It wasn’t just the physical attraction that made it so hard to keep myself in check. I liked talking to her about almost anything.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have come after all.” Her voice was shaking lightly.
I didn’t even care about the damn party. All I wanted was an excuse to spend more time with her, but I didn’t want her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with.
“Your call, Isabelle. I understand if you want to put some distance between us. But I really hope to see you at the party.”
Desire was in her eyes, and I kept mine on hers so she knew exactly what my intentions were. Then she asked, “Who knows how things might escalate though?”
When I answered, my voice was a whisper. “Yes. Who knows?”
I had it bad for her.
Chapter Five
Isabelle
Doting on my brothers was one of the finest pleasures in life. Of course, they sometimes saw “doting” as “nagging,” but we didn’t have to agree on everything, did we? Besides, they were equally “doting,” so they couldn’t hold that over my head.
“Ohh, you’re picking me up. I feel pampered,” I said when they both showed up on my doorstep on Saturday morning.
We were going to a breakfast hotspot near Josie and Hunter’s house. Our sister had given birth five weeks ago, and she insisted we meet somewhere that wasn’t her house because she felt a bit trapped.
We Ubered to one of the trendiest breakfast places near her house, The Bakery. We’d gone there right after they opened last month, and Josie immediately declared she wanted to come back. The restaurant became an instant hit and the lines were long, but luckily, I knew one of the servers, Cooper. He was a fellow guide at the tour agency where I moonlighted, and he got us the table. I wasn’t sure, but I thought he had a crush on me.