Mountain Challenge (Mont Blanc Rescue #9)

Chapter 10

10

Isla

I sla put on a lacy black bra and a matching pair of underwear. Not because she was expecting to get lucky—or maybe she was. Ever since she and Ry had sex the previous night, it was as if a dormant side of her—the side that wore sexy underwear because she was a sexy creature who wanted and deserved amazing sex—had awakened after a long period of hibernation.

A looong period of hibernation .

So long, she was lucky Ry hadn’t found cobwebs on her pussy.

Or if he had, he hadn’t said anything .

Now that she’d broken the dry spell, she felt … reborn. Like the proverbial phoenix—though hopefully without the flames. The design popped into her mind, almost fully formed. She’d been looking for a special tattoo. As much as she loved just because tattoos on other people, she wanted all her tattoos to have a strong meaning.

She pondered this as she pulled on a pair of slim black jeans and a black tank top, not bothering with socks and boots because it was warm in her apartment, and it wasn’t like she was going anywhere. Yes . A small phoenix felt right. A reminder of sorts, of what happened when one forgot an important part of herself.

Her thoughts flew to Ry again. She wondered how she would explain the tattoo to him. Not that she had any explaining to do. It wasn’t like the two of them were an item. For all she knew, they might never meet again. He’d left pretty quickly after getting a call from his boss in the middle of the night, some kind of rescue emergency, and hadn’t called all day.

You didn’t give him your number. But he could have called the store. If he’d wanted to.

She hoped he was okay.

Of course he’s okay. He just hasn’t called, and that’s alright.

She shook her head. They hadn’t promised each other anything. And, regardless of what happened with Ry, the fact was, he’d revved her engine so hard, it was still going almost twenty hours later.

But that didn’t mean she was expecting anything, or hoping to see him.

Who are you trying to kid?

You never shower and change underwear after work.

Usually, she just put on a pair of sweats, or her comfiest pajamas. She didn’t like cooking, particularly for herself, so dinner was usually just a big salad, some fruit and yogurt or some sushi from the grocery store. She hated the all-plastic trays but loved the sushi. It was one of her many weaknesses.

The fact was, it felt lovely, knowing that her engine could still be revved. She might have to take care of herself later, before bedtime. That was something else she hadn’t been doing. Not since she caught her husband and her friend sleeping together— an image that had eroded both her sense of self-worth and her sex drive.

Except at least the second of those was back now. She wanted to call her friend Laura, who she knew would be happy for her, but didn’t feel comfortable with the second part of the conversation. Because Laura would ask what was going to happen next, and Isla had no answer. No . She’d wait before calling Laura.

On her kitchen table sat an envelope from her lawyer. She hadn’t opened it yet, because she knew what she would find inside. Her lawyer had given her a heads up before putting them in the mail. Her divorce papers, recently signed by Roland. According to her lawyer, it’d been easy peasy. Roland had simply signed the paper the lawyers had put in front of him. Not wanting to argue . Or wanting to be rid of me as much as I need to be rid of him .

Taking a deep breath, she sat down and picked up a pen, forcing the tip through the tiny gap in one corner and pulling it across the top of the envelope. Rip. She pulled out the thick bundle. And there it was, their names in black and white, just waiting for her signature.

Roland and Isla. Ex-husband. Ex-wife.

Sadness struck her. The last time she’d seen their names together like this had been on their marriage certificate. And now it was over. She wasn’t married anymore. She forced another deep breath and reminded her she’d needed this. She could have forgiven Roland many things, but cheating wasn’t one of them. He’d broken her trust, and there was no way back from that.

Isla sighed. One way or the other, it was good news. She found a blue pen in her bag and signed the papers herself, placing them back in the envelope her lawyer had provided for that purpose. She’d mail it out tomorrow.

So. She was divorced. Surely this called for a celebration. Instead of the yogurt she’d been planning on having for dinner, Isla picked out a bottle of Austrian Merlot she’d been saving for a special occasion. It seemed like this qualified.

Before she could second-guess herself, she poured herself a generous glass and took a sip. It needed to breathe. But she didn’t feel like waiting, so she took a sip. Then another. A couple glasses of this, some cheese and crackers, and then she was going straight to bed to take care of her newly rediscovered engine.