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 f**king 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 f**king 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).