Catch Me Falling (11 page)

He was well and truly fucked.

“Hello,” he said softly, stepping into her office and leaning down to kiss her.

She smiled at him, and there was a light flush on her cheeks. She looked even cuter, if that was possible. She turned and went back to her desk, settling in her chair and nodding towards the chair opposite her.

Isaac sat opposite her, putting his work mask on. Personal time was done, he had to focus.

“I have a couple files for you to take home,” she said, pulling them out of the top drawer of her desk.

He nodded, took them from her. “I’ll have them back to you later this week.” He studied her for a moment. It had only been a day since he had seen her, yet she looked tired. “How are you?”

She leaned back in her chair, smiled. But the smile looked wane. “Tired.” She stifled a yawn and then studied him more closely. “Long shift?”

“Yes.”

“Take your time,” she said, nodding to the files. “I'll be in court for the rest of the week.”

Isaac felt torn between relief and disappointment. He wanted to see her. Kiss her. Hold her. But he didn’t want to deal with the feelings she caused. She was dangerous.

His eyes met hers and held them. Her green eyes were gorgeous, flecked with little bits of lighter green around the iris. There was a warmth there, affection. Like she was fond of him, of spending time with him. And he liked it. It made him feel warm, made happiness coil in his gut. Life wasn’t supposed to be that way. He wasn’t supposed to fall for someone.

But he had. He had fallen for Alexa Matthews.

I
t was Wednesday
. Cooking day. Alexa stood in Isaac’s kitchen looking doubtfully at the cupboards. She looked cute in tight-fitting jeans that showed off her backside and a flowy blouse that let him peek at her body when she bent the right away.

Which she did. A lot. He wasn’t quite sure if she had realized she was flashing him when she did it.

“We should probably go shopping,” she mused, glancing at him. “Unless you happen to have stuff to cook.”

He snorted.

“Shopping first, then,” she said.

Isaac nodded. At least they hadn’t scheduled it at the end of an overnight shift. He would have some time to cook, some time to relax, and then he could get some sleep. “I've got wine that can go with dinner,” he said after a moment. He had scotch, too, but he doubted that went well with dinner.

“What do you usually eat?” She raised her eyebrows, leaning back against the counter.

“Chinese, Indian. Takeout.” He shrugged.

“No wonder you have Ellie cook for you.” Alexa shook her head, a fond grin on her face.

He couldn’t help a faint smile. “I didn’t get the sandwich recipe.”

She shrugged. “Let’s start with something you can eat regularly.” She led the way out to his car and he got in the driver’s seat.

“Where are we going?” He had no idea what grocery stores were nearby. Takeout joints, yes. Grocery stores, no.

“What’s around here?”

“There’s a fabulous Indian joint two streets to the left, and a Chinese place one to the right.”

She swatted him, laughing.

His heart swelled at the sound. He loved her laugh.

She sighed, teasing. “Of course you don't know.” She consulted her phone. “Let's just go to the nearest one. We can get most of what we need there.”

Isaac waited.

She rolled her eyes. “Mile down the road, then it’s on the left.”

He chuckled, glanced at her. She was deep in concentration, frowning at her phone and occasionally tapping out notes. Parking, he glanced at the grocery store with mild trepidation. It was so domestic. He couldn’t even pretend it wasn’t.

He had never gone grocery shopping with anyone but family.

“Just follow me,” she said, getting out of the car.

He studied her for a moment, smiled faintly, then followed her into the grocery store.

They went up and down the aisles, her pointing out ingredients as he trundled behind her with the cart. It felt – strange. Uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to being the follower, not used to not being in charge. But at the same time it felt so right.

She would turn and look at him, a happy grin lighting her face up. Then she would turn back to her phone, to the ingredients, and her eyebrows would furrow together as she thought. She was sexy. She was adorable.

She was all he had ever wanted but couldn’t let himself have.

All it would take would be him snapping, his genes coming into play, and he could destroy everything. Schizophrenia had genetic links, was inheritable. He was out of the danger range, that was true. But every time he forgot something at work, every time he didn’t cry when a patient died, he wondered. He was human, he was. But those could be signs of something so much worse.

She didn’t deserve someone like him. Someone broken. Someone who could put her in danger.

“Ready to go?” She had her hand on the edge of the cart, was looking at him with her wide, carefree eyes.

She was gorgeous.

“Yes.” He smiled at her, feeling the warmth surge through him as she grinned and pulled the cart forward.

For the first time in his life Isaac didn’t know what to do.

T
hey got back
to the house, the bags in Isaac’s hands. Alexa was the one who put them away, telling him where she put each of the things. It was different from how she was at the lake house. Gone were the nerves, the shy smile. She was in charge here.

She looked at him and frowned. “Were you paying attention?” she asked suspiciously.

“No.”

She frowned at him.

“I was watching you.”

There was that blush, the one he liked. She was flustered. She shook her head, smiling to herself, and then pulled out some of the groceries.

The domesticity of it all made him feel like he was drowning. Like he was choking on sweetness.

Alexa showed him the recipe, walked him through each step and then had him do it. It was relatively easy, although not nearly as easy as calling takeout. He used each chance he could to get a little bit closer. Press his body against hers, kiss her, taste her skin. It was more fun that way, more fun to see her cheeks turn a little bit pink, to see her lose focus and trail off mid-sentence.

It made him feel less broken. Less alone. Like he wasn’t a mess for being so out of sorts over making dinner. It wasn’t marriage, it was just one evening.

But it wasn’t, really, with her. This one evening was born from so many others. From evenings that hadn’t even happened yet.

“Time to eat,” she said, spooning their meal into two bowls. They settled at the dinner table, just across from each other. Their feet touched under the table. It was cozy, comfortable.

They ate quietly. “It’s good,” Isaac said, surprised.

She frowned at him mock-seriously. “Why are you surprised?”

He couldn’t help a faint smile, and he nudged her gently under the table. She smiled too, and they went back to their food.

Isaac felt like he was suffocating. Like he couldn’t breathe. It was simple, oh so simple. Dinner. Smiles. Sex. It was his past, his present, his future, threatening to drown him. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t do it. He had to know what she wanted. He had to tell her.

“I’m not good at this.” He looked away from her for a moment. “I’ve never wanted someone the way I want you.”

“What do you mean?” There was confusion in her eyes. Fear. Worry.

“I don't deserve you,” he said, his tone careful.

She stilled.

“But –” He hesitated. “But I want you, Alexa Matthews.” He looked at her, at her beautiful jade eyes. At her beautiful soul, scars and all.

“What does that mean?” Her voice sounded a bit scared, a bit worried. Her fork was on the table, all of her attention on him.

“I want to date you.” His voice was warm. Heated.

She stared at him as if he had grown an extra head.

“Is that a yes or a no?” He raised his eyebrows, a faint smile on his face.

“Have we gone on a date yet?” She picked up her fork, rolled some of the noodle dish around it. Her eyes were teasing, the uncertainty and fear gone out of them.

“Does this count?” He glanced around his kitchen.

“Mm… no.” She grinned. “You’ll have to ask me properly.”

He chuckled, then leaned forward. “Alexa Matthews, will you have dinner with me? Friday night – that’s date night – at seven?”

She looked at him, her gaze neutral, hesitant, hopeful. Then she smiled, even though it didn’t reach her eyes. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and then opened them again. There was vulnerability on her face, a cautious happiness.

A smile that sent butterflies thrumming through him.

“I would love to.”

I
t was
ridiculous that it was taking her an hour to pick an outfit. It was just a date. A dinner. Yet she had gone through her entire wardrobe – and part of Jill's – before she'd settled on the perfect outfit.

Jill sat on the couch, watching her with amused eyes. “I don't think I've ever seen you worry so much.”

“I'm not worried,” Alexa said absently, checking herself out in the mirror.

“You’re a shitty liar for a lawyer,” Jill retorted.

Alexa scowled, then turned back to her reflection. “Does this look okay?”

“Looks good for a date,” Jill said.

Alexa looked herself up and down. It was one of her best dresses. Long sleeved, out of necessity, but it was dark maroon, setting off her green eyes. She even wore makeup, too. She’d gone full out for the whole date thing.

“When is he coming to get you?” Jill asked, interrupting Alexa’s train of thoughts.

Alexa glanced at the clock. “Ten minutes.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Nope,” Alexa said, trying to sound more confident that she felt. She was. She was very nervous. She was so nervous she thought she was going to jump out of her skin and run out of the room screaming.

Jill studied her for a moment. “He’s not going to bite you.”

“Don’t worry.” Alexa grinned. “I bite back.”

“I didn’t need to know that.” Jill chuckled. “But I’ll keep that in mind.” She watched her for a moment longer, then stood, heading towards the door. “Knock ‘em dead,” she said with a faint smile.

Alexa smoothed the dress over her hip bones, and looked at herself one last time in the mirror. She had picked heels, but they weren’t the ridiculous stilettos. They were an inch or two shorter. Sexy, but not quite as dangerous.

“I'll let you know how it goes,” she told Jill, grabbing her purse and heading towards the door.

“We can talk about it at work tomorrow.” Jill winked. “I might have a story for you, too.”

Alexa stopped mid-step and looked at her friend. “You got something to tell me?”

Jill grinned. “You’re going to be late.”

Alexa glanced at the time. “Shit.” One last frantic look around her apartment, and then she followed Jill out the door.

T
he drive
to the restaurant was quiet, the radio playing in the background. It was comfortable, after the two couple-hour long trips to Isaac’s lake house.

“We’re here,” Isaac said, the first one out of the car. She followed, looking up at the sky. The sun was setting, its golden rays spreading out over the horizon. It felt symbolic, almost. It was stupid, and she knew it, but it almost felt like she was moving on. Like she was finally letting go of what Damien had done to her, leaving it behind her. She turned to look at Isaac, a soft smile on her face.

There was a softness to his face when it was at rest, a warmth that she didn't see when he was talking. It was like he let his guard down, like he let the real him be seen.

“Ready to go eat?” He raised an eyebrow, his grin wicked.

She tried very hard to ignore the flush on her cheeks. She was sure she was red. “At the restaurant,” she said pointedly.

His gaze dropped to her dress, and there was a glint in his eyes that made her shift where she stood. “I like your dress.”

Her stomach felt like a horde of butterflies had been let loose in it. Her body was a traitor, betraying her like that. “I like your…” she waved a hand at him, at his fitted slacks and dark green collared shirt. All of which, of course, fit him impeccably.

He offered her his arm. “Thank you, m’lady.”

She snorted. “After you, dear sir.”

He grinned, wide and easy, and she tried not to break into giggles. It was silly, she knew it, but she felt so light and happy, like she was floating on clouds. It was so easy to forget with him, to smile, to laugh. He had that sort of demeanor, when he wasn’t making her stomach do acrobatics. She linked arms with him and they stayed that way until the waiter showed them to their table. Corner, backs to the wall.

Her cheeks burned. He’d remembered.

“You didn’t have to –” She waved to the table.

He studied her for a moment. “You’re not the only one who feels more secure in corners.”

She blinked, but settled down in her chair. He didn’t talk about his past much. He had hinted, had told her that they were dead, but she didn’t know how. Part of her wanted to know. She knew how much that could impact a person. But it wasn’t good first-date conversation, so she didn’t. “How was your day?” she asked instead, busying herself with the menu in front of her.

“Good,” he said, his gaze on the menu. “Day shift today, night shift tomorrow.”

She frowned. “Back to back shifts? “

“Thereabouts,” he said. “I do take a few days off. If I didn't, I would burn out.” He shrugged. “What about you, Miss Workaholic? Got any better about taking time off?”

She blushed and looked away. It seemed to be her conditioned response to his eyes. “I try not to work every day.” It was true. She mostly took Sundays off. She totally didn’t bring home case files and read them over the weekend at home. Nope.

“Uh-huh.” He chuckled. “How good are you at that?”

She smiled, chagrined. “Not very.” Their knees knocked comfortably under the table.

“You should get better at it,” he said, his dark blue eyes on hers. She felt her pulse leap, felt her body react just to his words. His voice was low, rumbly. She felt half-melted and he didn’t even touch her that time.

The waiter came and they ordered drinks and dinner. She loved risotto, and he apparently liked pasta. Not that she didn’t like pasta. Pasta was delicious.

The conversation meandered, hitting small talk again, starting down different paths. Where each of them had gone to University - very different parts of the US. He asked her more about being a lawyer, and she asked him about being a doctor. Unlike doctors, lawyers didn’t do a residency; they learned on the job. While her job was boring, familiar, his was different. She could ask him all of the questions she had never asked of the other doctors she had worked with.

While Alexa knew the basics, how doctors went to undergrad, then medical school, then residency, Isaac added stories, gave it depth. It was easy to fall into the world he was building, the world she felt she knew by the time he was done talking.

Eventually, they finished eating, their dishes put to the side. She looked at him, looked at the time, and realized that two hours had passed. For all that she had enjoyed herself, she was drained, too. Socializing, being on top of things, was exhausting. And he was – he was him. He made her feel things that she hadn’t expected to feel for a long time, maybe forever.

Maybe it’s too good to be true,
a little voice whispered in her head.

She ignored it.

“We should probably go,” she said regretfully.

“Back to my place?” His lips curved into a wicked smile. He tossed cash on the table, enough to cover their dinner and a well-size tip.