Page 37 of Isabelle & Jason
Bumping shoulders.
It was all innocent enough, but Jason had started to notice that it was affecting Isabelle. Or was it wishful thinking?
A quirk of her lips was all the indication that she didn’t mind.
Jason leaned in close, his lips nearly grazing her ear. “I was going to head to town today. Thought I’d hit up Sal’s for some pie. You interested?”
She didn’t lift those gorgeous eyes to meet his. She didn’t demand to know if this was supposed to be a date of some kind. Deep down, maybe he wished she would, so he could ask her if it would be so bad.
Isabelle merely nodded. “Their apple pie is to die for.”
“Can’t forget the ice cream.”
“No, you can’t.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Mark said.
Isabelle jumped and they both glanced in Mark’s direction.
Jason shook his head at Mark’s knowing look. Inviting Isabelle to get some pie didn’t mean they were going out on an official date. He was simply asking a friend to join him for a treat.
All right, in his head he knew he sounded like a liar. But he’d never admit to it. Mark was right about one thing. That night in the bar, he’d caught sight of Isabelle and he’d been hooked. If she hadn’t been there with that guy, he would have asked for hernumber. After everything that had happened, he wished he had stayed at the hospital.
Then fate intervened and their paths crossed here at the ranch.
This time, he wasn’t going to squander the chance to win her over. He just needed to be patient.
Jason couldn’t stop staringat Isabelle as she took another bite of her pie. She laughed and looked away when she caught him. “What?”
He shrugged. “You seem… good.”
She rolled her eyes, but he didn’t miss the way her shoulders tensed. She still didn’t like it when he brought up the way she was feeling.
Clearing his throat, Jason turned his attention to his own plate. “I know you said you don’t do well with cooking, but if you wanted to learn…”
Isabelle laughed. “I don’t think you would be saying that if you knew how bad it is.”
“So, tell me.”
“Hmm?” She met his gaze.
“Tell me how bad it is,” he said with a chuckle.
Isabelle shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly.”
“Why not?”
This time, she leveled him with a serious look. “Because you’re a professional. Admitting to burning water isn’t in my best interest.”
He quirked a brow. “Burning water?”
She bit back a smile and ducked her head as she stabbed her fork into her pastry. “Technically, it wasn’t the water that burned. It was the pan. But you get the gist.”
He chuckled. “You sound like my sister.”
That caught her attention, and she looked up at him. “Your sister’s a bad cook?”
“The worst.” He groaned. “One time we were making our parents breakfast in bed and…” He blew out a breath, then laughed. “Let’s just say that not even I could salvage the massacre she left behind in her wake. Mathew had to run to the diner down the street from where we lived to get them something, and my folks could totally tell.”
