And, obviously, she’d tried.
Everything she could.
Christ.
“Isabella,” Prentice murmured, getting the distinct feeling he’d not only lost his advantage but he’d been an incredible ass.
Before he could say more, she snatched up her plate of toast, sauntered to her cold cup of coffee, hooked it with a finger and started to walk out of the room, saying softly, “I need a shower. I’ll see you at Fergus’s.”
Then she rounded the corner and she was gone.
He watched the entrance to a hall for a good, long while.
Then he muttered out loud to himself, “Fucking hell.”
* * * * *
Isabella
Isabella sat on the couch in the great room facing Sally, one of her legs bent and pulled up on the seat, Sally’s hand flat on her thigh. As she had been during the whole polishing portion of the shaping, buffing, varnishing manicure, Sally was calm and docile while Isabella put the last coat of clear varnish over the hot pink she’d already brushed on the girl’s final fingernail.
“All right, Sally honey, you’re done but you’ve got to sit there for a good ten minutes to give it time to dry.”
Sally surveyed her fingernails with a rapt expression on her face as Isabella caught movement out of the side of her eye and saw Prentice exit his study.
He stopped and leveled his gaze on them.
“They’ve never looked this pretty,” Sally breathed as if Isabella didn’t give her a manicure but instead painted her portrait displaying more talent than Gainsborough.
Isabella hesitated, fighting an urge that was nearly overwhelming because Prentice was standing right there.
Then she thought, Screw it.
Sally was just too danged cute.
Again, Prentice would just have to deal.
And anyway, it was all his and Fiona’s fault for having an endearing daughter.
She leaned forward, kissed the top of Sally’s head then got up, repeating, “Ten minutes, sweetheart.”
“Ten minutes!” Sally chirped and then sat statue-still in the couch.
Grinning to herself, Isabella went to the mudroom to get the laundry, walking by Prentice without looking at him but feeling his eyes on her as she went.
The tumble dryer had buzzed five minutes ago and she hustled in to fold the clothes before they became wrinkled.
She had no earthy clue why she woke up with Prentice’s family’s laundry on her mind but she did. That was her first thought, as if someone had shouted at her in her sleep to get up and do the laundry.
Which she did and it needed to get done.
Even though it felt strange and intimate handling Prentice’s clothes, there was a mountain of laundry. She’d done four loads now and there were at least two more to go (probably three). So much, she’d even run down between doing her makeup and hair to switch out the washer and dryer.
She’d just finished folding and was setting aside the pieces that needed to be ironed when Jason rounded the corner into the room.
“Dad says he’s ready to go,” Jason announced and Isabella thought that was a strange way to voice such an announcement, considering they were driving separate vehicles and they could go when they wanted.
She’d phoned Annie and let her know she’d be a little late as it was a moral imperative to give Sally a manicure. Annie had laughed and agreed that manicures for six year old motherless girls were, indeed, a moral imperative.