Christ, she was a piece of work.
His temper, already at the surface, boiled over.
“You’ve said that already but you didn’t mean it when you said it to Debs and you don’t mean it now.”
Her eyes shot back to his and she opened her mouth but he didn’t let her speak.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing this time but I reckon you know I’m no’ playing it. What you need to know is, you aren’t playing it with my children.”
“I’m not playing a game,” she returned coolly.
“That’s good then,” he replied but it was impossible to miss the way he said it meant he didn’t believe one word out of her mouth.
And Isabella didn’t miss it.
She leaned forward slightly. “I lost my mother when I was young too. I would never play games with any children, especially not yours.”
“I’ve no idea what a woman like you does for fun,” Prentice shot back. “I just want you to understand whatever fun you intend to have, it will no’ involve my family.”
She crossed her arms and hugged her elbows, whispering, “I don’t deserve this.”
Prentice was silent.
She held his gaze.
Then, as if unable to stop herself, she asked, “What kind of woman do you think I am?”
She shouldn’t have asked it. She knew it and so did he.
He should have let it go.
He didn’t let it go.
Instead, he answered, “The kind of woman who’d play with a man’s heart without a second thought then leave her best friend in a hospital bed for months without lowering herself for that first goddamned visit.”
Prentice watched with detached fascination as her composure slipped for a split second, exposing pain, before she regained it.
Her face softened slightly. “Perhaps I should explain.”
“I don’t want an explanation,” he returned and he didn’t, he was twenty years and a dead wife away from explanations. “I want to know we understand each other.”
Isabella was silent for a moment.
Then she whispered, “Sally likes me.”
“Sally likes everyone.”
Isabella pressed her lips together for a brief moment and he could swear it was an effort to hide her genuine reaction. This was an effort that worked; she gave not that first thing away.
Then she nodded.
“Of course, Prentice,” she gave in quietly. “I’ll stay in these rooms.”
“Except when you cook Sally dinner tomorrow night. That’s one promise you’re going to keep.”
He didn’t wait for her to agree.
He left.