The Coast is Clear (Breakaway Shores #1)

Zander

The Stacks

The night was perfect. Exactly what I wanted when the idea came to me. Dinner had been delicious, and after the initial wave of anxiety, Izzy relaxed.

We were a block away from Powell’s when she saw it. “Yes, yes. That’s where we’re going, right?” She tapped my arm with her free hand, and everything about her excitement made me so happy.

“We are. You can get any book you want on me.” I said, knowing that she didn’t hesitate to buy herself any books.

She rested her head on my arm as we walked. “I have to see if they have my books there.”

“And we will complain very loudly if they don’t. ”

Izzy rolled her eyes as we came to the crosswalk. Powell’s was the best and biggest bookstore in Portland. Admittedly, I wouldn’t call myself a big reader, but I’d been to Powell’s before. It was a destination when you came here. It was three floors of rooms filled to the brim with books. The cars on the busy street stopped, and we crossed paths with a group of other people. I held the door open for Izzy, and we slipped into the warm atmosphere. Books were everywhere, and we didn’t speak. I let Izzy lead the way, wandering around the open area in the front of the store filled with books displaying Powell’s favorite and most popular books. She would pick up a book, read the back, flip a few pages, and then put it down. Izzy seemed very much in her element here. I loved watching her. I pretended to look at books, but everything about her was captivating.

We made it to the back of the front room, where the wall was lined with so-called bestsellers. Izzy stilled and pointed. “There it is.”

It was her book. Remember Me by Izzy Stanton. The cover was pretty, a kind of cartoon drawing of a couple standing on the beach, their eyes on each other. “The original cover was so different, but I like this one.”

“The original cover?” I asked her.

She picked up the book and ran her hand over the cover. “I self-published it. I’d been trying to be published for a handful of years and Jack convinced me to just publish it. It was so terrifying but so freeing to just be in control of the whole process. The original cover was a photo I took off the Oregon Coast. And it came out one week before he died. This version was republished a year later after it blew up, and I got a slew of offers from agents.”

“Do you like it? Being published the way you are now? Or do you miss when it was all up to you?” She was clutching the book to her chest now.

She leaned against the bookshelf, smiling at me. “I haven’t really thought about that. I don’t know.”

I grabbed one of the books and mimicked her, running my hand over it. “Well, let’s see if you can sign these!”

Izzy pulled at the front of my coat, bringing me closer to her. I settled into her, resting on the bookshelf next to her. “Thank you for pushing me out of my comfort zone. This is fun.”

“Of course, Iz. You’re the best mother, hands down. But even the best mother needs a night off every now and again.” I brushed her hair behind her ear and pressed my lips softly against hers.

She moved closer, her hand moving down my front. Our lips moved against each other, the kiss deepening. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted an older man rounding the corner into the same aisle and pulled away. My cheeks burned a bit. Izzy laughed at me and shook her head, “You’re no fun.”

I glared at her and grabbed the book from her hands. “Let’s go get you a Sharpie.”

The hotel room was nice but cozy, even with the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far side of the room. We’d spent an hour at Powell’s. She’d signed all the copies of her two books that they had, and then I bought a copy of each for myself, along with the twenty books she’d found for herself. On the way out, I saw this dinosaur book that looked exactly like the kind of book Christian would adore. Izzy got quiet but kissed me hard when I went back to buy it. We’d grabbed a bite to eat from a food cart on our way back to the car.

Izzy placed her small overnight bag on the desk and then turned around, biting at her lip. “?”

“Yes, dear?” I responded, pulling out my diddy bag from my backpack. Izzy’s face was serious as she watched me. I set the bag down and walked over to her. “What is it?”

She placed her hands on my sides, pulling me closer. “Thank you again.”

I brushed her hair out of her face, letting my fingers slide down to her neck. Her breath hitched, and she closed her eyes. I ran my fingers down her neck and to the center of her collarbone. Her hands were glued to my sides as I pressed my lips to her neck. She let out a little huff of air that sent fire straight to my core. Izzy moved with me as I pressed kisses down her neck and to the center of her chest. “You’re welcome,” I spoke against her skin. Izzy’s hands pulled at my shirt, slipping one of the buttons out of place. I leaned back, watching her undo the rest of them with fire in her eyes. She pushed the shirt off my shoulders, her soft skin running against mine. “Izzy, we don’t have to do anything. That’s not why I planned this.”

Izzy smiled, pressing a kiss on my pec. “I know.” She looked up at me, “I don’t know if I’m ready to have sex tonight, but we can still do other things.”

“Other things? Like what?” I asked, pulling at the bottom of her shirt.

Izzy trailed her hands down my arms and leaned up, kissing me. “I have some ideas. I just want to touch you.”

“Ditto, baby.” And then I stripped off her shirt, the lace bra underneath almost undoing all my willpower. No sex, which was okay with me. I didn’t want to rush it. But I wanted to touch as much of her as I could.

I hooked my arms around her torso and pulled her up, her legs hooking around me. I turned us around and laid her gently on the bed, pressing my chest into hers as we kissed. Her tongue slipped against mine, and something inside me unlocked. This felt so right. Me and her.

There was nothing about this that scared me. Nothing that made me second guess. I was all in. I pulled away, taking in her face. “You’re so pretty.”

She blushed, and I wanted to see that again. Make her do that again. “What are you thinking right now?”

“Right now? I bet you could guess.” I said with a quick peck on her lips. I rolled to the side, pulling her leg over mine. “I was just thinking about how much I want this. How I’m all in on this.”

Izzy’s fingers moved over my chest, the feeling sending sparks down my body. “Even though I’ve got so much baggage?”

“It’s not baggage.” Izzy smiled, and I could tell it wasn’t her real smile. “I love that you have kids and that you have a history. You wouldn’t be you without it.”

She met my eyes and kissed me, wrapping her foot around my leg even further. “Question for a question?”

“What about question for a touch?”

Izzy’s eyebrows shot up and she gave my arm a little squeeze. “I like the after-dark version of our game. I’ll go first. What was the worst date you ever had?” Izzy asked, pulling at one of the pillows up above. I grabbed one, too, and we both settled down, watching each other, our bodies entangled.

Dates flashed through my mind, although most of them didn’t quite seem to qualify. Women who wanted to date me while I was in the NFL didn’t care to do real things. They just wanted the chance to be photographed. And then one particularly bad one came to my mind, “In college, my roommate set up like a group date basically. He'd invited some girls over to have dinner and to watch a movie. He had his eye on this one girl, Addie, but she was like hyper focused on me for absolutely no reason. I’d never met her before that night. We all sat down to watch the movie and I was trying to just distance myself from her for the sake of my friend, so I sat in the recliner chair all by myself. And she came and sat in it with me. It was so awkward. Eventually, people started to fall asleep, and I went up to my room, and she followed me. It was so weird. She didn’t really even say anything to me, but my friend was so pissed.”

Izzy covered her mouth with her hand. “What in the world?”

I laughed, tracing the curve of her neck with my finger. “Tell me about your parents.”

She rolled her eyes. “My parents are…well, my dad was always there. Always constant and strong. He was just quiet, you know? And my mother was the opposite.” I slid my finger across her chest, running along her collarbones. “My mother was flighty, loud, and always let you know what she thought. It was usually something negative, hurtful. You could never count on her to follow through. They got divorced when I was nineteen. My father told me later that he waited until we were both out of the house to do it, but that almost made it worse. Like he stayed with her in such a miserable environment and one that I can still remember so vividly for us? I wish he would have divorced her so much earlier.” She put her hand on my chest and said, “Now it’s my turn to touch.”