Beauty and the Beach (7 page)

Isabelle was laughing by the time Becky finished speaking. “Okay, okay. Look, my family is having a few money problems at the moment, that’s all.”

“Maybe I could talk to my stepmom? Maybe she could help you out?”

Isabelle snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s super sweet of you, but we’re working this out as a family and it’s going to be okay. Don’t mind me. I’m just tired at the moment.”

“When I think about what one dress costs my stepmom lately, it just seems like the money would be put to much better use bailing out someone I love, you know?”

“Thanks, but no. Just as it’s weird between you and your stepmom because of money, it would then be weird between us. I’d rather work some overtime, okay?” If only she could.

“Fine. But I’m here if you need me. I have about two thousand in my own account you’d be welcome to anytime.”

Which would only be a drop in the bucket. “Thanks.” It was time to change the subject before Becky asked exactly how much money they owed. “So are you dating anyone?”

“Change of subject noted, but I’ll still answer your question. Nope. Now that I’m Miss nose-stuck-in-the-air Washington, real men don’t want anything to do with me. I’m suddenly not getting asked out anymore. And do you know why? All the guys are suddenly super intimidated. It’s all this crap clothing and makeup and elocution lessons. Seriously, even with you around, I got way more dates in college than I’m getting now.”

Isabelle was laughing again. “Elocution lessons? You don’t sound any different to me.”

“That’s because I’m talking to you. If I’m talking to anyone else, I have to speak in a certain way. Do you want to know how I do it?”

“How?”

“I forget all the crap they’ve taught me and I pretend I’m you.”

“Me?” Izzy laughed. “Becky, I’ve been living in an apartment since I was fifteen years old. Most people consider that one step up from trailer trash. I doubt I’m anyone’s idea of high class.”

“That’s just it, Izzy. It’s not really about being taught this high class stuff, you know? You either have it, or you don’t. And you have it in spades, baby. You rocked those thrift store clothes you used to wear. I’ve thought about it, and I think it’s just that, besides being pretty, you’re super nice. Naturally, I mean. Most of us just pretend we’re nice, or try to be nice, but you pretty much treat everybody the same. That’s real class in my book. Anyway, the impersonation seems to be working for me. Whenever I’m supposed to be on, I bring out my Izzy persona and my elocution teacher pats herself on the back for what a great job she’s done with me.” Becky giggled.

Izzy laughed. “I think you’re crazy, but if it works for you, I’m glad.”

“I’m being screamed for. The botoxed bat could use a few lessons in class, herself. So I’ve got to go. Take care, okay? And let me know if you need the money in my account.”

“Thanks. Will do. Bye.”

Isabelle inspected the items in her cart one last time, set her jaw, then headed to the checkout counter. She was glad Becky had called. The stress of her day, of waiting for her father to contact her, of getting ready to cook for a group of men she’d never met, had been lightened considerably. Now, if she could just get through the next few hours…she checked that thought. From now on, she was just taking it one minute at a time.

~~~

From his workshop window, Adam saw Isabelle pull her car into the driveway. He plucked the stress ball from off his desk, leaned back in his chair, threw the ball hand to hand, and waited. A few minutes later, he heard the front door open and warmth spread through his chest. He realized he was grinning. He hadn’t been sure Isabelle would walk in or if she’d ring the doorbell, and since he wanted her to feel at home, he was glad she’d let herself in.

He tossed the ball aside and got back to work on the commissioned piece, a 30th wedding anniversary gift from a husband to his musician wife. He picked up his circular blade and started carving the treble clef he’d drawn into the round wax disc. Eventually the piece would be made of 18-karat gold, with two round-cut diamonds in the middle and lower curves.

He usually worked with the door closed and the radio blasting, but today the door was open and the room quiet as he listened for Isabelle. Occasionally he could hear her opening and shutting cupboards in the kitchen. She was probably starting dinner.

He glanced at the clock. His friends would be there in the next half hour or so, and he was man enough to admit he was looking forward to letting them think Isabelle was his girlfriend.

He shook his head. Yes, he was an idiot. But, he reminded himself, Isabelle’s presence would have an immediate side benefit. His friends would no longer try to set him up with their sisters, cousins, and strangers they met on the street. Wouldn’t that make a nice change?

When the doorbell rang twenty minutes later, he headed down the stairs. Isabelle, looking flushed and gorgeous, her blonde hair piled high, poked her head out of the kitchen and he caught himself staring. “I’ve got this,” he said, and answered the door.

Sean, Charlie, and Jeff grinned at him and walked inside. Charlie held up a case of beer. “First Sergeant, we are here to par-tay!”

“How long do I have to be retired until you’ll call me Adam?”

Charlie snorted and headed toward the backdoor. “You never retire from the Marines. Once a Marine, always a Marine,” he threw the words over his shoulder.

“Where’s Brandon?” asked Adam.

“About ten minutes behind us,” said Sean.

Adam glanced behind him to see that Isabelle had disappeared. He thought about going in to see if she needed any help, but decided against it. If he headed in there, all the guys would follow, and she didn’t need that kind of aggravation while she cooked.

He led the guys through the doors onto the side patio instead. He saw Isabelle looking out the kitchen window for a moment, then she was gone.

Sean immediately headed to the stereo system and turned on a local rock station. Jeff went to the cupboard and removed cards and poker chips. Charlie pulled out one of the patio chairs, sat down, and drummed both hands on the glass table top. “Let’s do this!”

Adam did a quick survey of his friends. Sean, half-inch facial hair, unruly sun-bleached hair pulled back into a ponytail, surf-toned body, and quick grin. Jeff, with his longish dark hair, dark eyeglasses, mustache, and goatee. Charlie, with a ready dimpled smile, straight slicked-back hair, his Hispanic skin giving his professional bodybuilder frame a tanned appearance.

Isabelle would be coming outside shortly, and she’d meet them. It suddenly hit him that every one of his friends was better-looking than he was since his Humvee had struck a buried mine and left a divot in his cheek. And they were single. He hadn’t really thought this through. He suddenly felt ugly, overlarge, and gawky. Was that how Isabelle saw him? The thought didn’t improve his mood.

“What’s the matter, First Sergeant?” asked Charlie. “You look like you did that time the sniper about took Private Barfield’s head off.”

Adam turned away. “Nothing’s the matter.” He supposed he could go inside and just bring the food out himself.

“Just ignore him,” said Jeff. “It’s just his artsy-fartsy temperament. Artists are known to be moody, don’t you know?”

“Oh,” said Sean. “We have an artiste in our midst.” Sean bowed to Adam, his hand making a circular motion as he bent over. “I bow to your greatness.”

“You shouldn’t bow,” said Jeff. “He might’ve scared the greenies and the locals in Afghanistan, but he makes ladies’ jewelry now. I bet those guys wouldn’t have been so scared of him if they’d known that.”

Adam looked at his friends. Sean, in particular, never had any problem with the ladies. His blond and blue-eyed good looks had them lining up in droves. Adam was suddenly self-conscious about his thick dark hair, hairy arms, and over-large body.

Would Isabelle take one look at Sean, or any of the others, and fall for one of them?

Sean’s brows pulled together. “What did I do? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Quit razzing him,” said Charlie. “He’s getting mad, and we’re here to have some fun.”

“Was it something I said?” Jeff winked. “Did I hurt your feelings, First Sergeant?”

What was he supposed to say? That he was worried one of them would steal away his fake girlfriend? That he wanted a shot at her before she got everything organized to her satisfaction in her life and started to date? That he didn’t want to be introducing her to single guys, lining up other choices?

Normally the friendly razzing didn’t bother him, and he was quite capable of giving it back in spades. But tonight was different. What he needed to do was to stake his claim on Isabelle right off the bat. That way the guys wouldn’t poach, or if they tried, he’d have a good reason to pummel them.

“Just deal the cards,” he said.

~~~

A while later, they’d just finished setting up poker chips and cards at the glass table when Brandon came outside and rounded the pool, his green eyes slightly widened. “Who was the girl who answered your front door?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“My girlfriend, Izzy.” The title and nickname slipped out and so did the smugly satisfied expression he felt on his face.

Brandon whistled, long and loud, and Adam glared at him. Undeterred, Brandon opened his mouth to say more, when Isabelle stepped onto the patio. She balanced two platters, one in each hand, and slowly rounded the pool.

Eyebrows rose around the table and Adam stood up and surged forward to help her. He took one platter, and placed his other hand at the small of her back. She looked a little uncomfortable and he hoped it was because of the guys staring at her, and not because of him. When they reached the table his friends continued to stare, and Adam couldn’t even blame them. “Hey, this is Isabelle.”

He lifted his hand to point to one guy at a time. “Isabelle, this is Brandon, Charlie, Sean, and Jeff.”

“Hello again,” said Brandon.

“Nice to meet you,” said Charlie with dimples displayed.

Sean bent his head. “Izzy.”

Jeff stared.

Adam didn’t like the way they ogled her. He glared at his friends. “It’s Isabelle to you bums. I’m the only one here who gets to call her Izzy.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” Her lashes lowered. “It’s nice to meet you all,” she said shyly. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I made this.” She set the platter on the table, and Adam noticed the refreshments for the first time. He glanced at his own platter, set it down, and looked at the guys contemplating the food.

Celery sticks filled with canned cheese, and Ritz crackers with cream cheese and chunks of artificial crab meat. A bowl of peanuts and what looked like a dish of melted Velveeta mixed with salsa, alongside a bowl of tortilla chips.

When Adam cooked, they were used to a little better quality. All the guys exchanged glances then, as one, they smiled at Isabelle.

“Looks good, ma’am,” said Brandon.

“You bet,” said Charlie.

Sean grinned. “Just like Mama used to make.”

Jeff snagged a celery stick and bit into it. “Mmm. Yummy. Thanks.”

“Yes. Thanks, Izzy,” said Adam.

With a pleased look, she nodded. “You bet. I bought the makings for macaroni and ham casserole. The ingredients were on sale. Or I could warm fish sticks and tater tots. Do any of you have a preference?”

Again, the guys exchanged looks.

Adam smiled at her. “Thanks, but I was just talking to the guys and they said they were looking forward to pizza.”

Her brows crinkled. “I could run to Little Caesars, if you’d like.”

A chorus of no’s rang out.

Adam rubbed the back of his neck. “We have a special place we order from. A friend of ours owns it.”

Brandon nodded. “So that’s the only place we can go or we feel like traitors.”

“We’ll just call that order in,” said Sean. “We already have the number programmed into our phones.”

She nodded. “Okay. If you want me to make anything else, let me know. I was thinking about whipping up some pudding or cupcakes for dessert.”

“That’s okay,” said Adam. “None of us are really that big on desserts. The pizza fills us up.”

“Okay. I bought Popsicles if you change your mind.”

After she left Brandon smirked. “She sure is something to look at.”

Charlie spoke up. “And she seems real nice.”

Sean nodded. “Pretty and nice. That’s a good combination.”

“It is,” Jeff agreed. “But she can’t cook worth beans. I thought she was going to offer us some fried Spam.”

Adam glared. “The food is just fine. She’s been too busy becoming a nurse to learn how to cook.” He picked up a cheese-filled celery stick and bit into it. “And I expect you all to eat it. I’m not having Izzy’s feelings hurt.” He ignored their snickering as he ordered three pizzas.

The next time Isabelle went shopping, he was going with her.

~~~

Isabelle sat curled up in an easy chair in the living room and tried unsuccessfully to concentrate on a novel. She wished she had something to do. She’d cleaned the kitchen, then looked around for something else to clean in the already spotless house. There was nothing to cook, and after the way Adam introduced her as his girlfriend, it would seem odd if she went outside and asked for a list of chores.