'Uncle Brandon' was waiting for us outside the school, leaning against his sleek black SUV like he was posing for the front page of vogue magazine. His arms crossed, muscles taut, smug smirk on his face and a satisfied look in his eyes. Stupid youngster felt like he had closed the deal of the century.
"Hi." He said to us but his eyes were plastered on Isla. Why was I getting the sudden urge to punch his young smooth face.
"Hi," Isla responded.
He bent to Grace's height and congratulated her. Grace beamed at him. "Your art was something beautiful. I couldn't take my eyes off her." he said looking up to glance at Isla. I watched his weak attempt at wooing her and almost groaned.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
"Thank you." Grace responded graciously.
"He makes it sound like he bid on a yatch." I murmured so only James and Isla would hear. James stepped on my foot to get me to behave and I just sighed in impatience.
"I'll need your address and a contact number so I can arrange the pickup for our trip." Brandon said, standing to his feet.
Before Isla could respond, I stepped in. "No need. I'll drop her off at the resort myself."
Uncle Brandon raised a brow. "Protective, are we?"
"Just making sure she doesn't get kidnapped."
Brandon chuckled. "Relax, sir. I promise to be a gentleman. I wasn't interested in the retreat either until I saw her. I do hope we can be friends." He extended a hand to Isla. "Miss…?"
"Harrington. Her name is Isla Harrington."
I saw Isla's head jerk in my direction as she took Brandon's hand.
I cleared my throat. "Alright, we're heading out. Enjoy your night, Brandon."
Brandon grinned like a stupid teenager. Is that what's attractive these days? "See you soon, Miss Harrington."
She gave him a polite nod, and I led her and Grace to my car, feeling way too satisfied that I had intercepted whatever that was before it could turn into something real.
James pulled me to a corner. "Sir, I do not mean to intrude, but your plan for 'Miss Harrington' is not off to a great start."
"Why do you say so?"
"Well, if you plan on almost strangling every man that comes her way and being a brute to suitors, she is going to end up an old maid."
"We wouldn't want that, would we? It's just, she can do better. Look at him; he looks like he just left his mother's tits."
James groaned. "The plan is to get her a husband to escape a death sentence, no?"
I nodded in response.
"It doesn't matter if the man is blind, crippled, or missing a dick. She has to get married."
"You may be right after all. Okay, I will leave it all in your hands."
I turned to Isla and Grace, who were still waiting for us to finish our conversation. "Isla, would you please ride with Grace and me? I will need a buffer when we quarrel about the selection of music."
Isla gave a small nod and led Grace into the car while James headed to the car they had arrived with.
*****
As soon as we got into the car, Grace shouted, "Baby Shark?"
"Absolutely not."
"But Da—"
"No."
She pouted. "You let me listen to it last time."
"And I can still hear it in my head, Grace. Never again."
"Isla!" Grace called to her with pleading eyes.
Isla bit back a smile and nudged me. "Oh, come on, it's just a song."
I gave her a pointed look. "You don't understand the horror of that song playing in your head even in your sleep."
She laughed. "Fine, how about a compromise? One Baby Shark, then some real music?"
I sighed. "You're supposed to be on my side."
"She is a baby. And besides, I'm sure she will be fast asleep before we get home."
I rolled my eyes but gave in. "One. And then I'm playing actual music."
Grace cheered, and Isla laughed.
As the annoyingly catchy song played, I glanced at Isla sitting beside me. She was staring out the window; I could sense something had been wrong with her since we left Grace's school.
"Alright, what's up?" I asked as I pulled out of the school's main entrance.
"What do you mean?" she asked, giving me a confused look.
"Something's wrong."
She hesitated before giving in. "It's stupid."
"Even better."
"I just… I didn't think I'd be this desperate to get married at twenty-one."
That wasn't what I expected. "I wouldn't call it desperate. I would call it survival tactics."
She exhaled. "I always thought I'd be older. I thought I'd fall in love first. Have some grand love story, you know? Experience life before worrying about marriage." She gave a dry laugh. "And now I'm feeling like I have grasped every opportunity that comes my way even when there is no spark whatsoever."
"Tonight is just for fun, Isla. A weekend getaway ticket; don't think too much of it."
She nodded. "I know. But still… I would love sparks. Guess beggars can't be choosers."
I let her words sit for a moment before responding. "You're not a beggar, Isla. And Uncle Brandon isn't the only guy in town. Hell, by the time I'm done transforming you, single men will be forming a line just for a chance."
She huffed a laugh, which was nice to see and hear.
"Isla." My tone softened. "You're beautiful. You could walk into a room, say absolutely nothing, and every guy would want a look at you."
She scoffed. "Sure, until they see the scars."
"We all have scars."
She looked away. "Yeah, says Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome."
It was my turn to chuckle. I reached over and gave her knee a light squeeze, ignoring the way my pulse jumped at the contact. "You will be fine. Just remember you are going into battle. Discard of self doubt and you will be fine."
Before I could say more, Grace interrupted. "Another Baby Shark!!!"
"Somebody shoot me now!" I groaned under my breath. "Isla?!"
She laughed and turned to Grace. "Baby, it's daddy's turn now, okay? Let's not be greedy."
I switched the song to 'Try Everything—Shakira.'.
Isla turned back to the window, but I saw the way her fingers grazed the spot where my hand had just been.