Sweet Distraction ✔︎

[10] 𝑹𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔

“The coffee grounds are brewed with spices, kind of like chai.” Isabelle handed Evan a cup of the fragrant coffee and settled beside him on the sofa. “Cinnamon, pepper, ginger, cloves. I first had it when an acquaintance invited me to her mother’s house in Marrakesh. I liked it so much I asked her to show me how to make it, though I’ve experimented with the recipe over the years. Took awhile to find the blend that was perfect for me.”

Evan took a sip. “Not bad. Could use sugar, though.”

A smile tugged at her mouth. For him, of course. Where Evan was concerned, the “perfect blend” always seemed to include sugar. The literal kind, as well as the figurative kind that involved hot kisses and touching.

Warmth swept through her. He was sprawled out on the narrow sofa, his big, muscular body incongruous and yet completely at home against the floral print upholstery.

Isabelle sipped her coffee, both annoyed and vaguely impressed by how casual he was now after having kissed her and fingered her to the point that she’d been devoid of all thought and focused on pure sensation. After an evening of Evan’s sizzling glances, her body had been primed and ready to let him take her on that delicious ascent toward release—even standing out there on the old landing with its peeling paint and cobwebs.

She exhaled slowly. Lingering arousal coursed in her blood. She told herself it was a good thing that Evan had stopped her exploration of his bare chest and broken their kiss. Not a good thing for her body¸ which still ached with thwarted lust, but for her sensibilities.

She rose to pour them more coffee. Evan picked up a framed photo from a nearby shelf and looked closely at it. “Is this you?”

Isabelle leaned over to look at the photo. She’d never bothered really looking at the photos scattered around the apartment, assuming they were all of Jupiter, their mother, and Jupiter’s friends.

A strange, bittersweet feeling rose in her. She was maybe twelve in the photo, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, with both of her arms around a smiling, seven-year-old Jupiter. Behind them, her parents stood, also smiling, with the buildings and orchards of Twelve Oaks stretching in the background.

“That’s me, Jupiter, and our parents.”

“Great picture.” Evan set the photo on the table. “You were a cute kid.”

“I’ve never seen that picture before. I don’t even remember who took it.”

“Was that the commune where you grew up?”

“Twelve Oaks,” Isabelle said. “I loved it there. But after my father died, my mother moved me and Jupiter to Rainsville so she could open the bakery.”

“And you hated it.”

She nodded, seeing no point in denying the truth.

“Is that why you started traveling?” Evan asked.

“Partly.” Isabelle ran her thumb over the edge of her mug. “I also had a boyfriend… an older guy in his twenties who’d dropped out of high school. He was a surfer with grandiose dreams of finding the perfect wave. I never told my mother about him… I don’t think she would have told me to break up with him, but she wouldn’t have thought he was appropriate for a seventeen-year-old girl. And he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone because he thought he’d get in trouble being with a minor.

“We had all these plans for traveling the world after I graduated. He wanted to hit all these famous surfing spots, and I just couldn’t wait to leave Rainsville and see as much of the world as I could. Then right before graduation, Andrew was killed in a surfing accident. It was awful. I didn’t even know until three days later when one of his friends told me. I couldn’t go to his funeral because none of his family knew about me. I was really lost for a while before I decided that I still wanted to go away somewhere. Maybe Andrew would have wanted me to. So after graduation, I left Rainsville.”