Fairytale Come Alive

Chapter Fourteen Miracle Worker

Isabella

In the moments before fully waking, Isabella felt that sweet, long-lost sense of contentment she’d only experienced once in her life for fifteen months twenty years ago.

Then her travel alarm sounded.

Her eyes opened.

The warm solid weight at her back shifted, the fingers laced in hers released and Prentice pressed into her back as she saw his arm reach out, his hand tagging the clock.

The bed moved as she felt him get up on an elbow and she stared at her clock held before her in his hand.

“Christ, how do you turn this fucking thing off?” he growled, his voice gruff with sleep.

Evidently, Prentice was not a morning person.

She took it from him and pressed the off button. Without delay, he pulled it from her hand and put it back to the nightstand.

She tried to get her thoughts together but they were randomly and determinedly skipping from one to another, all of them centered around how very much she liked waking up next to Prentice (even grouchy Prentice).

His body was warm, it was big, it was strong, it was pressed up against hers and the bed felt cozy and safe with him in it.

His face went into her neck and she felt his lips there.

She liked that too.

His hand glided up her belly to between her breasts as he said, “We have to be quick, baby. Need to get the kids up and fed.”

Those breasts his palm rested between started tingling.

“Quick?” she asked, her mind muddled, nothing he said made sense.

And, anyway, she didn’t want him to make sense. She wanted to nestle into him and go back to the dreamless, restful sleep she only seemed to have when he was with her.

She realized what he meant when his palm moved from between her breasts to cup one of them and his teeth nipped her earlobe.

She trembled.

“Quick,” he replied.

Before she could catch a thought his face went away from her neck, he pressed her to her back, rolled over her, his mouth captured hers in a heady kiss and then Prentice deliciously guided them through “quick”.

It wasn’t until they were naked in the shower and the water was sluicing into her hair and down her body that Isabella’s thoughts semi-focused.

They focused first on the fact that she was naked with Prentice in the shower and she wasn’t certain she was entirely comfortable with that.

Then they focused on the fact that Prentice was naked with her in the shower and she was very certain she was comfortable with that because he had a fantastic body.

Then they focused on the fact they were all of a sudden in the shower even though she’d barely had time to recover from the climax he’d just given her. He hadn’t even let her get her breathing regulated or her heart rate slowed before he pulled her out of bed and hustled her into the bathroom.

He definitely didn’t let her get her thoughts sorted.

She tipped her head back, blinking against the spray and looked up at him.

“Pren –”

She, yet again, didn’t finish his name.

“Jesus, Elle, with all this shit, do you have any shampoo?”

Her blinking eyes saw he had two of her bottles in his hands and he was studying them.

“That’s body wash,” she informed him inanely, pointing to the bottle in his right hand. “And that’s body scrub,” she went on, pointing to the bottle in his left.

He put them down and grabbed another one.

“That’s conditioner,” she said quickly.

He looked at her, put the conditioner down and grabbed another one.

“That’s shave lotion.”

With her shave lotion still in one hand, he straightened and hauled her to him with his other arm as he burst out laughing.

Before she could process their scenario, standing, naked in the shower Prentice holding her and laughing about showering products, he pulled away.

He reached for the last remaining bottle, muttering with obvious amusement, “Process of elimination.”

Then he turned her to face away from him and she stared at the tile wall, her mind snapping into focus.

“Pren –”

She interrupted herself this time as his fingers slid pleasantly strong through her hair and against her scalp.

He was washing her hair.

She supposed at some point her mother washed her hair when she was younger. But she didn’t remember.

And, of course, when she was at the stylists, they washed her hair and gave her a head massage and she always enjoyed that.

However, this was something else.

This felt marvelous.

Her mind erased, her head bent forward and her body automatically relaxed back into Prentice’s. He took her weight as his hands worked in her hair.

When he was done, he gently moved her forward under the spray. Supporting her weight against his body with an arm at her waist, he used his other hand to rinse the soap from her hair.

Then he repeated this delightful sequence of actions.

Then he progressed the shower by using his hands, soapy with her body wash, to cleanse her from neck to feet.

Thoroughly cleansing her.

That felt marvelous too.

So marvelous she didn’t protest and was still dazed when he carefully maneuvered her out from under the spray and positioned himself in it.

She was still dazed when he said, “We need to hurry, baby. Help me out.”

She looked up at him, blank, as he squirted her shampoo in his palm.

“Help you?” she asked stupidly.

He set the shampoo aside and gave her the body wash. She stared at it, her mind freezing as she understood what he meant.

Then she stared at him.

Then she said the first thing that popped into her head.

“If I use this, you’re going to smell like lilies of the valley.”

He grinned as his hand shot up, curving around her neck and he pulled her face to his.

“Means I’ll smell you all day,” he said against her lips before he touched his there and finished in that soft tone that did funny things to her entire system, “Works for me.”

Then he released her and went back to shampooing.

Isabella stared at the body wash in her hand. Then she stared at his body. Then her mind fogged but that was fine considering her hands didn’t need her mind to work to do what they wanted to do.

She was thoroughly enjoying running her soapy hands along the slick, wet, soapy skin and hard muscle of Prentice’s body, very thoroughly enjoying it, when Prentice’s fingers curled around her wrists. He pulled her up against his body by wrapping her arms around his waist.

The water cascaded down both of them but his head shielded her face which was tipped to look up at his.

His every-colored eyes were so warm they were burning and her breath caught.

His voice was a husky rumble as he murmured, “I think you got it.”

“Okay,” she whispered, vaguely embarrassed because she was overenthusiastic with the body wash.

Mostly, she was lost in counting the occurrence of each color in his irises and comparing the numbers.

Then she distractedly noticed something changed in those eyes and her mind only fully processed the change when his hand came to her jaw.

She blinked.

Then she focused on the look in his face and her belly dropped.

“What?” she whispered.

His thumb slid along her bottom lip.

His voice was again a husky rumble, this one softer and definitely sweeter when he whispered, “You haven’t looked at me like that in twenty years.”

Isabella’s throat closed and her body went solid.

For half a second.

Then his fingers slid into her hair, cupping the back of her head, his arm sliced around her waist, pulling her deeper into his body and he kissed her.

Hard, long, and beautiful with the warm water sliding down their bodies and lilies of the valley fragrancing everything around them.

Heaven.

When she was putty in his hands, he released her but kissed her forehead and stepped out of the shower before she could think another thought.

She watched mutely through the glass door as he toweled off then wrapped the towel around his hips and turned to her.

“I’ll get the kids,” he said before he strode from the room.

She stared at the empty room and then her body jolted.

This wasn’t right.

Well, it was right, in a perfect world type of way.

But Isabella existed in a world that was far from perfect.

And she needed to shield Prentice and his children from that world

She turned off the water, jumped from the shower, toweled off and ran into the bedroom. Dragging on underwear and a bra, she opened the wardrobe doors and stilled, staring at her clothes.

She’d packed in a panic, not thinking of much except making certain she had the bare necessities. She never dreamed she’d be there for over a week. Everything she had in the wardrobe, Prentice had already seen.

It was too early to start recycling outfits.

And she needed a good outfit.

They’d had great sex last night and woke up together for the first time ever. That alone meant she needed a good outfit.

But they’d also just had great sex that morning and showered together for the first time ever.

That meant she needed a great outfit.

One part of her mind stopped the ridiculous rampaging thoughts of the other.

What was she thinking? She wasn’t trying to impress him with her style and flair.

She grabbed a pair of jeans and ran to the bureau and snatched a long-sleeved, dusty pink, thin, fitted t-shirt. She tugged these on and started to run from the room when she realized the towel was still wrapped around her hair.

She ran back, yanked off the towel and dragged a comb through her hair.

Then she started to run from the room again.

Then she ran back and pumped smoothing elixir into her hand, rubbed it through her hair and ran the comb back through.

Then she started to run from the room yet again.

Then she ran back, put on deodorant and spritzed on perfume and she began to run from the room.

Then, knowing she should ignore it (but she couldn’t ignore it), she ran back, folded the towel on the rack, made the bed and grabbed her clothes that were strewn around the room during the sexual festivities last night.

She noted that Prentice’s clothes were amongst hers and she grabbed those too thinking of him walking through the house in nothing but a towel, which caused her skin to start tingling.

Gathering their mingled clothes in itself was an act that caused her tingling skin to start to get warm as the memories of last night invaded.

With resolve, she ignored the tingling, the warmth and the memories.

Then she ran to the kitchen, stopping at the mudroom to toss their dirty clothes into the pile of unwashed laundry.

She’d flipped the switch on the coffeemaker when she heard Prentice calling her name.

She turned and looked to the top of the stairs.

He stood there barefoot, in jeans, his wet hair slicked back, his shirt unbuttoned all the way down, exposing his chest and stomach.

Her resolve to ignore the tingling and warmth slipped a hefty notch.

When she finally tore her gaze from his flat stomach and caught his eye, he bizarrely asked in an exasperated tone, “A little help up here?”

Then he turned and disappeared down the hall.

She stared at the place where she last saw him, slightly concerned about the frustration in his tone. Mostly her mind was busy deliberating on the fact that Prentice had asked for her to help him with something upstairs.

Upstairs, she had made beds, gathered clothes, vacuumed, tidied and put Sally to bed.

But in the mornings she made coffee and breakfast in the kitchen, never part of the family pandemonium upstairs that usually centered (from what she heard), one way or another, around Sally.

Upstairs was their space. Cameron family space. And, even making beds or reading to Sally, somehow, Isabella always felt like she was intruding.

But now, Prentice seemed to be inviting her upstairs, asking for “a little help”.

With only a moment’s hesitation, she ran up the stairs.

She found Prentice in Sally’s room, his shirt buttoned but not tucked in, his hands on his hips, his exasperated gaze on Sally.

Sally was dressed in the fancy, frilly flower girl dress she wore to Annie’s wedding. The dress was on backward, its skirt askew mainly because part of it was tucked into her little girl pants.

She was glowering at her father, clearly digging her heels in about something and it didn’t take an experienced parent to know it was the dress.

“Sally, I’m no’ going to say it again, take off the dress,” Prentice demanded, his voice firm, his patience obviously spent.

“I want to be a princess today!” Sally returned, unwisely defiant in the face of her father’s escalating frustration, she went on to cry in equal frustration, “And this is my only princess dress!”

“Princess.” Isabella heard mumbled from beside her and she saw that Jason had joined them, dressed in his school uniform. His eyes were on his sister and he was shaking his head with disbelief. “Mental,” he finished.

“Jace, your contribution isn’t needed,” Prentice said to his son, Jason gave Isabella a hilariously disgusted look (at which Isabella did not laugh, even though she wanted to) and wandered out of the room.

Prentice’s eyes cut back to his daughter and he said warningly, “Sally –”

“I wanna be a princess!” she shrieked, Prentice tensed and then he turned his gaze to Isabella, brows going up.

She stared at him.

He expected her to do something.

Her.

Isabella.

She had no idea what to do!

She looked at Sally.

Sally was still scowling stubbornly at her father.

Then it came to her.

“Hmm,” Isabella murmured, putting her forefinger to her lips as her eyes travelled Sally and Sally’s gaze went to her. Isabella continued, “Of course, Cinderella ended up a princess but she didn’t get that by demanding to wear her best dress during the day. In fact, that was something her evil stepsisters would do, seeing as they were spoilt rotten. The evil stepsisters likely wore their best princess party dresses everyday while Cinderella wore her normal clothes. That’s probably why the fairy godmother came to visit Cinderella, because she needed to have a special occasion to wear her best princess party dress.”

Sally’s scowl had disappeared and she was watching Isabella in childlike horror at the very thought that she might be more of an evil stepsister than Cinderella.

Isabella felt Prentice’s eyes on her but she didn’t spare him a glance.

“So, I suppose, if you don’t wait for a special occasion to wear your best princess party dress then, when you need her, your fairy godmother will never come to visit.” Isabella shrugged with indifference then finished, “Oh well.”

She turned to Prentice and saw he was watching her, biting back a smile. She didn’t react to this; she just started to leave the room.

“I want a visit from my fairy godmother!” Sally cried, her voice desperate.

Isabella immediately switched directions, walked up to Sally and guided her to her wardrobe while muttering, “Then let’s get you some normal clothes, sweetheart.”

She was tugging Sally’s flower girl dress over her head when she felt her wet hair swept over one shoulder and then she felt Prentice’s hand at her waist at the same time she felt his lips at the nape of her neck.

She shivered, felt his presence depart and, by the time she whirled, Sally free of the dress, all she saw was his back as he strode from the room.

When she and Sally descended the stairs, Prentice was sipping coffee in the kitchen, his shirt now tucked in and boots on his feet and Jason was making toast.

“Do we have to have porridge again today?” Sally asked, skipping to a stool.

Isabella entered the kitchen and started to get busy as she said, “No, honey, I’ll make you some eggs.”

“I don’t want eggs. I want you to make some of your cookies,” Sally replied, clearly determined never to give up on the idea that, one day, someone would relent and she’d get sweets for breakfast rather than just breakfast.

“No cookies. Eggs,” Isabella returned, deciding today was not that day and she certainly wouldn’t be the one who would relent.

“Pancakes,” Sally pushed.

“Eggs,” Isabella repeated.

“Pancakes!” Sally shouted.

Isabella turned to her and explained calmly, “Pancakes are weekend food. Tomorrow’s Saturday. Saturday is the weekend. I’ll make you pancakes tomorrow, with blueberries in and everything. But today you get eggs.”

“Okay,” Sally agreed happily.

Prentice burst out laughing.

So focused on Sally, Isabella’s body jerked and her gaze snapped to him. Her mind blanked as she caught sight of his handsome, laughing face.

His handsome, carefree, laughing face.

No tightness around his mouth, no pain in his eyes, his face was relaxed and he was at-ease in his kitchen with her and his children.

This so astonished Isabella, she didn’t react when he snatched her in his arms, gave her a hug and a swift kiss on her neck even though he was still chuckling.

He released her and she stood swaying as he went to the cupboard, pulled down a mug, poured in some coffee, splashed in her milk and brought it to her.

Automatically, her finger hooked the handle as he murmured, “I’d like mine scrambled.” She blinked up at him but he just grinned and turned to the fridge to get Sally some milk. He poured the milk in a glass while walking to Sally but he was speaking to his son, “Jace, get your rucksack ready, mate. We’re running late. We’ll need to leave right after eggs.”

The words “late” and “eggs” made Isabella jolt out of her motionless, befuddled stance, preparing to sort breakfast.

Her body stilled again when she saw Jason, his eyes darting back and forth between Isabella and Prentice like he was viewing a fascinating tennis match. His gaze stuck on Isabella and she watched as he slowly smiled his father’s smile.

Carefree, at-ease, relaxed.

Joy shot through her as fear pierced her soul.

She jolted yet again when she felt Prentice’s hand slide along the small of her back, stopping to give her waist a squeeze.

“Elle, baby, eggs,” he prompted softly, let her go and said to Jason, “I’ll finish the toast, Jace. Rucksack. Go.”

Jason nodded to his father and raced upstairs.

Isabella made eggs.

Prentice made toast and, shockingly, didn’t ruin it.

They ate while Isabella’s thoughts descended into turmoil, happy, sad, elated, sated, content, but most prevalent of all, terrified.

After they finished breakfast, she trailed after Prentice as Jason ran ahead to the door.

She caught his wrist, starting, “Pren –”

He abruptly turned, twisted his wrist and grasped her hand, pulling her to him. Her body hit his at about the same time his lips hit hers.

The terror fled and all good things Prentice were the only things on her mind.

His head lifted and he murmured, “I should make today’s deadline and be home in time for tea. Pick Jace up, will you?”

Without waiting for her to answer, he turned and walked out the door.

Long after it closed, Isabella stared at it.

Then she felt Sally’s little hand slide into hers.

She looked down at the girl.

“We forgot to give Blackie breakfast,” Sally told her, her face full of worry that a half an hour delay in Blackie getting breakfast would cause her new kitten to expire.

Alleviating Sally’s worry obviously took precedence over the fear closing around Isabella’s heart.

Therefore she set the fear aside to deal with later and she and Sally got Blackie some breakfast.

After they got Blackie breakfast, Isabella loaded Sally in the car and they went into town.

They did this partly because there were a few things for dinner that night that Isabella needed to pick up.

They did this mainly because Isabella decided that, although Sally couldn’t have cookies for breakfast, that didn’t mean Sally couldn’t have cookies at all and they needed some ingredients for cookies too.

As she was driving and Sally was chattering, she made up her mind that, after the kids went to bed that night, she and Prentice were going to talk.

She was not going to get dazed and confused.

She was not going to let him touch her, kiss her, make love to her or sleep with her.

She was going to put her foot down and get things straight.

They were going through the market with a cart as Isabella decided exactly what they’d get straight.

She was going to leave Monday. They were going to tell the children tomorrow night. Maybe take them out to dinner or something. Then she’d have Sunday as a farewell day and she’d be gone.

That was as far as she got in her plan.

Isabella had to stop strategizing when she had to stop and explain to Sally that she could pick only one candy bar for her and one candy bar for Jason rather than Sally having one of each on the display.

Then she couldn’t continue her mental planning session because practically everyone she passed in the aisles either smiled at her or said hello and this broke her concentration.

Then she couldn’t continue her mental planning session because, on their way to checkout, Lucy Guthrie (who used to work at the pub where Dougal and Annie, Fiona and Scott and Prentice and Isabella hung out), stopped them. Isabella and Lucy chatted for ten minutes about how Sally was getting on, if they were going to have a mild winter and if Isabella and Prentice had sampled the new Indian place in town.

Somehow shaken by Lucy thinking Isabella and Prentice would sample anything together even though it seemed the entire village (including Prentice) were under the mistaken impression that they were together, Isabella didn’t start her mental planning session again until much later.

It was after they went to the fruit and veg shop so she could get fresh fine greens for dinner and blueberries for pancakes the next morning.

And it was after they ran into Denise MacRae, Debs’s best friend since childhood who spent as much time at Prentice’s Mum’s house back in the day as Isabella did, which meant a lot, and her baby outside the fruit and veg shop.

And also after Denise’s nearly one year old baby charmed Isabella with a smile and then began to flirt with her brazenly (as only one year old baby boys could do), rendering Isabella smitten.

This meant she stood outside giggling with baby Robbie while talking to Denise about all things baby, Sally, Jason, Prentice, school runs and football practices.

And the mental planning session also came after Gordon Taggart, who was walking his dog, stopped to chat with Denise, Sally, Robbie and Isabella. Sally and Isabella fell in love with Gordon’s border collie instantly and they both took turns giving her hugs and cuddles (Sally) and scratches and body rubs (Isabella).

“Gon’ ruin her for me, lasses,” Gordon said on a smile, his eyes moved over Isabella’s shoulder and then his smile turned sour.

Isabella’s heart skipped a beat as the older man moved with a strange aggression around both Isabella and Sally.

She stared at him wondering if there was a magical spell over the village making the villagers be nice to her and the spell had suddenly been broken.

Or maybe villagers turned bad.

“Bella, luv, there’s a photographer coming this way. Get Sally to your car,” he warned, Isabella looked around him and saw that there was, indeed, a photographer coming, already shooting pictures even though Gordon was doing his best to shield them.

Then she realized that Gordon was doing his best to shield them and she wanted to kiss him.

Instead, she gave him a grateful look with an added, whispered, “Thanks, Gordon.”

She grabbed Sally’s good hand, touching Robbie’s nose (to which he giggled at her), smiling at Denise and she and Sally walked as quickly as they could without appearing to be running away.

Isabella only resumed her mental planning session when Sally was painstakingly but happily stirring the thick cookie batter left-handed.

Her conversation with Sally that morning had given Isabella an idea.

What she was going to be to the children was like a fairy godmother but a modern, real kind.

She’d explain to Prentice that she’d like to stay in their lives, talk to them on the phone, send them things when the spirit moved her and maybe even come visit once in awhile. And, when they got older, the children could come and visit her.

She’d also explain to Prentice that he and she couldn’t carry on like they were. They were confusing the children and confusing themselves.

She’d explain that it felt lovely (more than lovely, so much more than lovely it wasn’t funny, though she wasn’t going to explain it like that) that they’d had this time together to heal after what had happened between them. But he had to be lonely after losing his wife and she was always lonely (though Isabella wasn’t certain she was going to share that) and they shouldn’t mistake what they had for something more and they certainly shouldn’t drag the children in it.

And she’d explain that all of it, the sex, the kisses, the touching, everything, had to stop.

Immediately.

Lastly, she decided, since this was all very rational and logical, Prentice would see her reasoning was sound and agree with her.

What Isabella didn’t do was think how much this plan would hurt, not only to explain to Prentice but also to carry through.

Well, she tried not to think about it and failed.

So she decided she’d worry about that later, when she was at home in Chicago, back to her existence.

When the cookies were in the oven, she called Annie thinking it was high time to share all that had happened between her and Prentice, something she had been uncharacteristically keeping from her friend and then tell Annie what she intended to do.

When Annie answered, she sounded distracted and told Isabella she was busy with something and asked if she could call back in an hour.

Isabella agreed, she and Sally finished the cookies; she made Sally lunch and, after lunch, read to her on the couch until Sally fell into a nap.

Then she decided to do some laundry.

While gathering towels in the bathrooms to put in the laundry, she decided to clean the bathrooms.

While cleaning Jason and Sally’s bathroom, she decided to clean Prentice’s which she hadn’t touched yet.

After cleaning Prentice’s bathroom, she saw four whisky glasses sitting on the railing of his balcony, three of which looked like they’d been out there for awhile.

She thought this was strange but she gathered them, put them to soak in the sink, threw in another load of laundry and Sally woke.

It wasn’t until after she picked up Jason that she realized Annie never returned her call.

Seeing as Jason mixed with Sally somehow created a vacuum that sucked time out of earth’s vortex, she had taught Jason a few more chords on the guitar, settled a fight between them when Sally wanted to confiscate the guitar and learn herself, did another load of laundry, ironed all Prentice’s work shirts and Jason’s school shirts and put them away and was making hamburger patties when Prentice arrived home.

Annie never called.

Throughout her afternoon activities, she coached herself on how to be warm and friendly with Prentice while still keeping control of the situation.

Therefore she was certain by the time she heard the door opening heralding the fact that Prentice was home, she was prepared and he wouldn’t take her off-guard.

The minute he walked in that pleasant feeling that she’d had the night before when he had arrived home hit her again, all her coaching vanished and she went instantly off-guard.

He dropped his jacket on the armchair, walked behind the couch mussing Jason’s hair as he did so and bent low to pick up Sally when she ran to him, screaming his name.

Holding his daughter in his arms, her little girl legs wrapped around his waist and her little girl arms wrapped around his neck, he gave Sally his devoted attention while he continued walking to the kitchen.

“We’re having American cheeseburgers with homemade American fries for dinner!” Sally announced.

“Sounds good,” Prentice murmured, smiling at his daughter.

“Today, we went into town and to the market. We got some candy bars and potatoes and we met a real live baby on the pavement. And I’ve decide I want a collie next,” Sally kept the information flowing.

“Why don’t we get used to Blackie first,” Prentice suggested.

“Okay,” Sally agreed unusually easily then again, she was likely sated by afternoon cookies then she shouted, “Oh! And Elle and I made cookies today!”

There it was, the cookies.

Prentice’s eyes went to Isabella, Isabella’s guard slid into the vacuum that sucked time because his eyes were still smiling and they were filled with warmth when he enquired, “Why am I not surprised?”

“I don’t know. Why aren’t you?” Sally asked.

His gaze went back to his daughter, he chuckled and replied, “No reason, baby.”

Then he kissed Sally’s nose and put her down.

Then he got close to Isabella and with her hands filled with hamburger meat over a bowl she couldn’t move away. Not in a warm and friendly (but controlled) way.

In fact, not in any way.

Then he leaned around to her front and kissed her nose.

If she’d managed to get back on guard (which she hadn’t while watching Prentice come home and cuddle Sally), it would have slipped again.

Unfortunately, since she hadn’t and her guard was whirling in the vacuum toward some black hole, instead of slipping her guard exploded in the vacuum, completely obliterated and irretrievable, and thus would need to be regenerated.

Thinking all of this meant she wasn’t prepared for Prentice to go still at her side. Nor was she prepared for his eyes suddenly to slice to his son, brows drawn.

Isabella was watching Prentice and her thoughts of black holes flew away as worry invaded.

Prentice leaned a hand into the counter at her side and addressed Jason, “Jace, have you been studying Elle’s book?”

Jason stopped strumming and answered, “No, Elle’s taught me a few chords.”

At these words, Isabella went still.

She couldn’t imagine what Prentice would think of Isabella teaching his son guitar on his dead wife’s guitar. A guitar Fiona had for decades and carried with her everywhere. A guitar she would probably have taught Jason on herself had she lived.

Although she couldn’t imagine what he would think, she could imagine, whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good.

Isabella concentrated on the hamburger patty in her hand as if it would be judged for form and presentation and, if found lacking, the sentence was death.

This was difficult to do considering she felt the heat of Prentice’s eyes on her.

“You play?” he asked.

Without taking her eyes from the hamburger, she opened her mouth to speak but Jason got there before her, feeling in the mood to take over for Sally in keeping the information flowing.

“Aye, Dad. You should hear her. She’s good. She says she learned to play because of Mum.”

Prentice’s voice grew quiet when he queried, “You learned because of Fee?”

He called Fiona “Fee”.

That was sweet.

It was also sad.

Her throat blocked and she decided the best she could do was nod.

Which she did.

At the hamburger patty.

Then she set it aside and grabbed more meat.

“The book’s okay,” Jason went on as he went back to strumming. “But Elle’s better at teaching me. I looked at the book last night and –”

Strange vibes started emanating from Prentice and Isabella thought it unfortunate her hands were filled with meat because she really needed to fist them.

Prentice interrupted his son, “You had the guitar last night?”

“Aye,” Jason answered distractedly, concentrating on his finger work. “We started last night. Elle showed me more when I got home from school.”

Jason hadn’t finished speaking when Isabella felt Prentice’s hand at the small of her back and his lips at her ear.

“Put the mince down, Elle,” he ordered in a whisper.

Oh dear.

She licked her lips and then, screwing up her courage, she looked at him. His face was carefully blank. She didn’t think this was a good sign.

“Okay,” she whispered back, dropped the meat, went to the sink, washed her hands and was still toweling them off (slowly) when Prentice closed in.

He pulled the towel from her hands, tossed it aside and, hands to her hips, he part guided, part shoved her into his study where he closed the doors behind them.

She turned and decided to do what she could to defuse the situation.

Which meant apologize and quick.

“Prentice, I –”

He cut her off, “You call me Pren.”

She blinked, confused at what he said and also confused at his voice which was thick to the point of being hoarse.

It hit her he was holding back emotion.

Her heart broke and she felt her eyes sting.

“Pren,” she whispered.

“You’re a fucking miracle worker.”

Her body locked, all except her eyes which she blinked again.

“What?” she breathed.

“Jace hasn’t touched that guitar, not once since his Mum got sick, without him having one of his nightmares. Last night, you worked with him on it and he didn’t have a nightmare,” Prentice explained, Isabella stared at him in shock at his words and he walked to her, put his hands to her jaws and repeated, “You’re a miracle worker.”

“I –” Isabella started then stopped, not having any earthly clue what to say.

No one had ever called her a miracle worker.

Because, in her life, miracles didn’t occur.

Except in this magical little village.

Something flashed in his eyes, his face dipped close and his fingers flexed at her jaw. “Has it occurred to you that if you’d been shown a little love and compassion, the nightmares you’ve had for thirty-two years would have gone away?”

No.

That had never occurred to her because in her life she hadn’t been shown a great deal of love and compassion.

Except in this magical little village.

“No,” she whispered.

He used his hands on her jaw to tip her face so her lips were against his and he muttered, “We’ll have to work on that.”

For a split second, her chest seized.

After that, his words made her mind, heart and soul unconsciously relax, as did her body, melting into his.

His arms stole around her and he kissed her softly.

It was one of the sweetest kisses she’d ever received (and all of the others had been from Prentice too).

When their mouths disengaged, she murmured, “Pren.”

His voice was soft in that way that did funny things to her when he said, “Thank you, baby, for taking care of Jace.”

“I…um…” she stammered and then said stupidly, “You’re welcome.”

He grinned right before he touched her mouth with his again and pulled away.

Sliding his arm around her shoulders, he led her to the door saying, “I’m fucking starved. I’ll help with dinner.”

Isabella was having difficulty keeping up.

Even so, she didn’t think that was such a good thing. Evidence was suggesting that Prentice wasn’t so hot in the kitchen. But she was too shaken by recent events to protest.

Prentice opened the doors and they walked out to Jason declaring loudly, “You know, you two can snog in the kitchen. It’ll be sick but we’ll get used to it.”

Isabella’s eyes jerked to Jason and she tripped over her own feet.

Sally giggled.

Prentice drawled in a voice filled with amused sarcasm, “Thanks for your permission, mate.”

It was at that Isabella’s eyes shifted to Prentice who didn’t remonstrate his son nor did he explain that they weren’t in the study snogging (well, not exactly).

“Just being real,” Jason replied drolly.

“Oh my God, someone shoot me,” Isabella muttered out loud before she could stop herself.

Jason threw her a playful grin.

Prentice gave her a squeeze when they hit the kitchen right before he let her go.

Then he asked, “I don’t know. Can you still make cheeseburgers suffering from bullet wounds? Maybe we’ll shoot you after you make dinner.”

Jason burst out laughing.

Sally cried on a giggle, “Daddy! Stop being funny!”

It was too much. Isabella decided to ignore it all, cook dinner and then throw herself over a cliff.

She didn’t get the chance.

She cooked dinner, Prentice manning the deep fat fryer with expertise (thankfully), they ate it and she and Prentice barely finished the dishes when the doorbell rang.

Jason went to get the door.

Isabella was wiping her hands on a tea towel when Dougal, Annie and Fergus walked in.

“Ready, mate?” Dougal asked before Isabella could call out a greeting at their surprise visit.

“Aye,” Prentice answered, indicating from his ready response that for him this was not a surprise visit. With hands on Isabella’s hips, he steered her toward the hallway. “Get your bag, baby.”

Isabella glanced over her shoulder at him, confused.

Yes.

Confused.

Again!

“What’s going on?” she asked, stopping Prentice’s steering by halting while she looked around at the assemblage.

“We’re going to the pub,” Annie announced, scooping up Blackie and giving the kitty a cuddle. “Dad’s going to watch the kids.”

“Hurrah!” Sally shouted. “Fergus tells stories in funny voices!”

Isabella continued to look around realizing that her plans for the evening which she spent all day getting sorted, which included calmly, warmly, in a friendly, controlled manner, telling Prentice she was soon to be leaving and that their current (she couldn’t even think in her head what to call it but she settled on the word “situation”), situation could not continue, were being dashed.

“I didn’t know we were going out,” Isabella remarked.

“Forgot to mention it,” Prentice said with a gentle shove at the small of her back then repeated, “Get your bag.”

“But I –” she started.

Prentice interrupted her, “Bag, baby.”

It occurred to Isabella that Annie hadn’t returned her phone call. And Prentice “forgot to mention” he’d made plans for them to go to a pub, including arranging a babysitter who happened to be Annie’s father.

Then it occurred to Isabella that she was being played.

She slowly turned and glared at Annie who was trying to look innocent but who never was. Then she looked at Fergus who smiled. Then she looked at Dougal who didn’t look back, instead he studied his boots.

Yes, she was so, very being played.

Then she looked at Prentice and announced, “I don’t feel like going to the pub tonight.”

The hand Prentice had in the small of her back became an arm curved around her waist which he used to curl her into him, front-to-front.

“You will once you’re out,” he said. “Go and get your bag.”

Now, she wasn’t sure, but she was thinking she might be getting angry.

“No, I don’t think I’ll feel like it once I’m out,” she said slowly, looking up at Prentice. “I think I’ll stay in and listen to Fergus telling stories in funny voices.”

“Hurrah! Elle’s staying with us,” Sally shouted.

Prentice grinned.

Now she was pretty sure she was getting angry.

“Elle, baby –” Prentice coaxed.

Isabella opened her mouth to say something but didn’t get the chance.

“Come on Bella Bella,” Dougal called, walking up to them using the sing-song way he used to say her name decades ago, telling her back then that what he was saying really was “Beautiful Bella” as both words meant the same. “You two need a Friday night out and a drink.” He got close and his voice lowered so the children wouldn’t hear. “It’s been a tough couple of weeks, Bella. Prentice needs it, you need it. You know you do. Come out, down a few and relax.”

He had her at “Bella Bella”. She barely heard anything else he said. He hadn’t called her that in twenty years.

“I’ll get my bag.”

“Well, all right!” Dougal boomed.

Prentice gave her a squeeze.

She threw Prentice a glare.

This made him laugh out loud.

This made her glare turn to a scowl.

She pulled free from his arms, still scowling then she transferred her scowl to Annie who ignored it completely (as usual).

Isabella might be happy Dougal liked her again, liked her enough to sing-song her name and therefore felt the need for a celebratory drink at a pub but that didn’t mean she forgot she’d been played.

Deciding to have her drink and bond with Dougal but completely ignore her soon-to-be shoved off a cliff best friend and her… whatever Prentice was… she turned on her boot and went to get her bag.