by Whitley Cox
Exactly ten minutes later, he pulled up to the strip mall. There were a bunch of different businesses all in a row: a dance studio at the end, a photography studio, a bistro, a liquor store and now a new business—The Rage Room.
What the fuck was a rage room?
He shut off his truck and climbed out, double-checking on his phone he had the right place, but when Isobel and Sophie stepped out of The Rage Room, he put his phone away.
“There’s Uncle Aaron,” Isobel cooed, walking toward him, holding Sophie in her arms.
She passed Sophie to him, and he pecked her on her baby-soft cheek. “What are we doing here?”
Isobel’s smile dissolved over half of the anger that burned like a tire fire inside him. “Come on in and I’ll show you.” It looked like she was tempted to reach for his hand, but instead she simply clapped hers in delight and then skipped, yes, skipped toward the front door.
The bell chimed, and a woman with pink hair and tattoos stepped out from the back. “Your room is all ready for you,” she said with a smile. “Big one at the back. Your wife paid for extra stuff, too, so go crazy. Nothing is off limits.” Her pierced nose wrinkled. “Well, besides the acrylic glass walls.” She shrugged and placed a clipboard with a waiver on the counter in front of him. “I mean you can try to smash the acrylic glass, but I doubt it’ll break.” Aaron’s biceps bunched as he hoisted Sophie up onto his shoulder and signed the waiver. “Well, you might, actually, so please don’t try.”
What the fuck was this woman talking about? What had Isobel gotten him into?
He really just wanted to get home, shower, eat and go to bed. It’d been a long day on the jobsite, and his back was fucking killing him.
Isobel chuckled beside him. “Here, hand me Soph.”
He passed off the baby and followed the pink-haired lady and Isobel down the short corridor toward the back, where a room made out of four acrylic glass walls housed tables and shelves loaded with various dishes, vases, lamps, glass and wood.
The pink-haired woman pointed to a rack that held various things, such as baseball bats, crowbars, tire irons, even a sledgehammer. “Your weapons.” She grinned as she handed him a pair of leather work gloves, safety goggles and a hardhat. “And your protective gear.” She stepped out, and Isobel and Sophie followed her.
Aaron paused in the doorway, confused. “Iz, what is all this?”
She patted Sophie’s back and bounced her. “It’s a rage room. A place to let the anger out. Figured you might need it.” Her blue eyes glimmered. “I’m going to take Soph for a walk. You’ve got thirty minutes to do as much damage as you can. If you need more time, that’s not a problem. She has my credit card and will just charge me for the extra time.” She made to walk away but then turned back, hope shining in her eyes. Eyes that saw straight through him, eyes that terrified him, eyes that he continually got lost in, drowned in nearly every night as she sat across from him at the dinner table. Her smile was small but true. “I hope this helps.” Then she took Sophie, and the two of them left the building, leaving Aaron in a room alone with his demons.
Isobel wasn’t sure what she was going to return to. Aaron had seemed confused and irritated with her before she left. Left him in a room with Old Country Roses china and a baseball bat.
Would he find the ability to let his anger out therapeutically, or would he just be angrier than before?
Isobel smiled at Luna, who was behind the desk, as she wheeled the stroller back into the front lobby of The Rage Room. “How’s he doing?” she asked, tuning in to the sounds around her. She didn’t hear any smashing or crashing or bashing. Was he done?
Luna shrugged. “He’s been done for about ten minutes. He left.”
Isobel’s eyes narrowed, and she studied Luna’s face like the woman was suddenly speaking another language. “He what?”
She shrugged again. “I asked him if he wanted to wait for you, and he said no. That you guys had your own vehicles and he’d meet you at home.”
Isobel’s mouth opened and closed repeatedly. “Did he at least smash stuff?”
Luna nodded. “Yep. Go see for yourself.” She jerked her head down the corridor toward Aaron’s rage room. “Not too many people destroy the table too. That man had a lot of power behind his rage.”
Isobel left Sophie and the stroller next to the front desk and jogged down the hallway toward the end. She braced herself for what she was about to see.
Even then, she hadn’t been prepared.
Every single thing was demolished.
Battered and shattered, shredded and annihilated. You couldn’t tell what anything was, even if you tried. Not even the table looked like a table anymore. It was just a series of toothpick-size splinters and screws scattered around the thrashed room space.
She swallowed down the lump in her throat.
Maybe this rage room hadn’t been such a good idea.
Was he even more enraged now? Was she going home to a man on the warpath?
She didn’t jog, but her walk was brisk as she made her way back to the front. “How did he seem when he left?”
Luna’s lips turned down into a dismissive pout. “He seemed fine.”
“Not fuming mad, like he was going to go home and smash more stuff?”
She shook her head. “No. I even asked him if he needed more stuff to smash, and he said he was good. Seemed eager to get going.”
Isobel was crazy confused.
“You want to book another day?” Luna asked. “We host parties too. Birthdays, bachelorette parties, networking, team-building, that kind of thing. Nothing quite brings people together like destroying shit.” She laughed, revealing a shiny green tongue stud. She handed Isobel a card. “We even have a rewards program. Nine rage days and the tenth one is free.”
Isobel took her card and stowed it in the back pocket of her jeans. “Thanks. I’ll keep this in mind.”
Luna was all smiles. “I already stamped the first one for you. Only eight more to go.”
Isobel smiled as she pushed open the door. A chilly wind off the water was blowing through the city, and it was starting to rain. “Thanks, Luna. Nice meeting you.”
Luna waved. “You too. Take care.”
Isobel pulled the rain cover over Sophie’s car seat and set off on a quick jog toward her car.
By the time she got Sophie loaded and the stroller stowed, the sky had opened up and it was a downpour. Only with the wind, it was more of a sidepour and pelting Isobel in the face with big droplets as she opened her car door and slid behind the steering wheel.
It was rush hour, and the streets were slammed.
She rested her forehead on the steering wheel for a moment and took a couple of deep breaths.
Maybe it was a good thing they weren’t going to be getting home any time soon. Perhaps it would give Aaron a chance to cool off.
One could only hope.
By the time she got home, Sophie was officially losing her mind in the back of the car, and Isobel was on the verge of tears herself.
It was still coming down in buckets as she pulled up to the garage door, tossed the car into park and opened the door. She’d forgotten her rain jacket in the house, and her car umbrella was busted and she hadn’t bought a new one yet, so even though she was already wet, she was about to get soaked.
As she prepared herself for the second round of drenching, a dark shadow in a black raincoat ran past her. He opened the back passenger door, ducked inside and then, as quick as he came, retreated back to the house with a still-wailing Sophie.
Isobel scrambled after him, covering her head with her purse—not that it would do much good.
She burst inside and slammed the door against the assaulting wind, wiping her wet hair out of her eyes and shaking off the drops that clung to her sweater.
The sound of Sophie crying had disappeared down the hallway, along with Isobel’s sexy, surly boss.
The clock in the living room said it was six thirty. She was still techn
ically on the clock for another thirty minutes. Should she go relieve Aaron?
Did she want to see him?
First, she needed to get out of her wet clothes, then she could tackle the repercussions of her actions with Aaron.
She opened her bedroom door, and what sat on her bed nearly knocked her flat on her ass—a big, beautiful bouquet of flowers. Peonies and lilies, ranunculus and daisies. All her favorites. All dazzling.
There was a card tucked into the top, and she pulled it out.
Just like the man who had undoubtedly given her the flowers, the card was to the point, with zero frills and zero emotions.
THANK YOU!
That was it.
But it was enough.
She let out the breath she’d been holding, and her shoulders abandoned her ears. She’d been tense on the drive home. And not just because Sophie was freaking out in the back. Isobel was nervous that Aaron was going to be mad with her for booking him the rage room, for trying to help him find an outlet for his pain.
And even though he still might be furious with her, he also seemed grateful.
She peeled out of her damp clothes and pulled on a pair of blue and white plaid pajama pants and a dark blue hoodie. She tossed her damp ponytail up into a messy bun on the top of her head and took her now dry body and her exquisite flowers out to the kitchen.
Thankfully, she’d had the forethought that morning to put together a hearty turkey and quinoa soup in the slow cooker. She’d also made cheese and jalapeno biscuits during Sophie’s morning nap.
She really hoped Aaron hadn’t waited for her and had already fed himself. She would feel terrible if he was starving because she’d been trapped in rush-hour traffic.
“There we go, baby,” she heard his deep, soothing voice coo as she padded barefoot down the hall and into the living room. Aaron was sitting in his La-Z-Boy chair with Sophie in his arms and a bottle in her mouth. “Fresh diaper and something in your belly, you’re an easy gal to please.”
His tone seemed chipper. Okay, maybe chipper was the wrong word. But he didn’t sound angry or irritated. That didn’t mean much, though, because he was always pleasant and sweet with his niece.
Isobel slowly approached him from the side, gauging his body language and whether he threw up his walls as she got closer. He didn’t look at her, but he also didn’t appear to brace himself for her presence. She took a deep breath. “How’d it go?”
He glanced up at her, the smile he’d been giving Sophie falling just a touch when his gaze reached Isobel’s face. “It was good.” He tilted his head toward the flowers. “Thank you.”
She clutched the bouquet to her chest. “They’re amazing. Thank you.”
He nodded, then turned back to Sophie. “Go dish yourself up some dinner. You must be starving.”
She sucked in a deep breath, pushing a strange ache out of her chest. She assumed he’d already eaten, but knowing that he had hurt her heart.
She nodded without saying a word and took off toward the kitchen.
“I’ll just finish feeding Sophie here and then join you,” he called after. “That soup smells great.”
She nearly tripped over her own bare feet and bashed her hip into the table. She spun around. “You haven’t eaten yet?”
He was looking at her now, the blue of his eyes practically glowing, the smile on his face directed at her. “No, I waited for you.”
12
It was Saturday afternoon, and Isobel was in the middle of folding laundry. The television was on in the background with the news yammering away.
She’d become slightly obsessed with the recent crime spree happening in Seattle. Jewelry stores were being robbed almost weekly, and the police still hadn’t been able to catch the guy or guys involved.
Though the authorities weren’t sure whether it was one guy or an organized group. Either way, it was very interesting to follow. She had always been intrigued by crime shows, particularly the unsolved ones. She loved any kind of a mystery. Maybe that’s why she was so into Aaron, despite how moody and angry he was. The man was a huge mystery, and she found herself wondering when he’d reveal the next clue, allowing her to get just one step closer to cracking the case—or in this instance, his hard, armored shell.
She went to turn up the volume on the television when her phone started to vibrate on the coffee table.
The call display said it was her friend Mercedes.
She hit answer and hadn’t even put her ear to the receiver when Mercedes’s demanding voice blasted over the other end. “Why aren’t you returning my text messages?”
Isobel scrunched up her nose. “What text messages?”
Mercedes’s scoff could probably be heard in Australia. “Check your phone, my dear. I’ve been messaging you for nearly two hours.”
Sure enough, there were like twenty missed text messages from Miss Mercedes Porter.
“Crap, sorry. Sophie was fussy and wouldn’t take a bottle, even though I knew she was hungry. Then she had a poop explosion, so I had to change her—and me—and then do laundry, feed her, put her down—”
“I get it, you’re in pseudo-mommy mode. Can you talk now?”
“I can. What’s up?”
“Get your dancing shoes on, pretty lady. We’re hitting the town tonight. I just got a promotion. You are now friends with the head buyer for the entire women’s line for Orchid Apparel.”
Isobel dropped the towel she was about to fold. “Shut up.”
“No, you shut up.”
“Like corner office, brass nameplate promotion?”
“Mhmm. And a company credit card.” She whistled. “I get to go to fashion shows, rub shoulders with potential distributors and designers.”
Mercedes and Isobel had met in art school. Mercedes was studying fashion, while also doing a fashion merchandising degree online, and Isobel was getting her degree in graphic design. They’d instantly become friends, and although Mercedes had a big mouth, her heart was even bigger. She was the friend to have when the chips were down. She was the first person to show up to lend her support, a bottle of wine and a tub of ice cream in the crook of her arm. And if it was a breakup, she even brought a small metal garbage can, and a lighter. Then she’d encourage Isobel, or whoever had been dumped, to light the guy’s stuff on fire.
Only once did they set off the sprinklers in Isobel’s apartment.
“I’ve got us on the list for Emerald, Social Club, Touch and The Ballroom. We don’t have to go to all of them—or we can—but we’re on the VIP list at them all, just in case. I can come grab you early. We can grab a drink at Prime Bar first before we head out. The bartender there is fucking gorgeous.”
Isobel snorted. She was pretty sure Mercedes was talking about Mason.
She was about to say she couldn’t wait when the coos and warbles of Sophie on the baby monitor reminded her that she was on baby duty Saturday nights. And Aaron went to play poker with his single dad friends.
Ah, crap.
“I can’t,” she said glumly, stowing the baby monitor in the back pocket of her jeans and heading off down the hall to go grab Sophie. “I have to work. Aaron goes to poker night.”
“Fuck. I hate how much you work. Seriously, it’s not right.”
Yep. Big heart. Big mouth.
Isobel bent at the waist and picked Sophie up out of the bassinet. “Hey baby.” She propped her up on her shoulder and wandered back out to the living room. “I’m sorry, Mercedes. Could we go out Sunday?”
Mercedes whined. “I made the plans for tonight. Everyone else can go tonight.”
“I’m really sorry. I would love to go celebrate your new promotion, but … ” she kissed the top of Sophie’s head. “Work comes first.”
“You can go.”
The deep voice behind her made her squeak and nearly drop her phone and the baby in her arms. She spun around to find not only Aaron, the owner of the voice, but another man, a very attractive, very broad, very tall man standing next
to him.
“What was that?” Mercedes yelled into the phone. “What just happened?”
“I’ll call you back. Just gimme a minute.” Then before Mercedes could protest—because oh, she would—Isobel hung up.
“This is my friend Colton,” Aaron said. “We worked together.”
Colton stepped forward, his smile wide and perfect. He thrust out his enormous hand. “Pleased to meet you. Heard nothing but good things.”
Isobel’s core tightened. Good things from Aaron? What had he said about her?
“You guys worked in construction together?” she asked, passing Sophie off to Aaron when he asked for her.
Colton shook his head. “No.”
He left it at that, and the glint in his eyes said she shouldn’t press further.
“Liam’s making me host poker tonight,” Aaron said, returning with Sophie in his arms and a bottle. “He’s getting renovations done to his place. New floors. I told him I had a friend in town. He said the only way Colton—who doesn’t have kids—could come to poker is if he tripled his buy-in and I hosted.”
Isobel shook her head and resumed folding laundry. “Oh, that Liam. He doubles the buy-in for those who are no longer single and triples it for those who are childless. A true mastermind, that one.”
“Where are you going?” Aaron sat down in his La-Z-Boy chair and began to feed Sophie. Since the night in the rage room, Aaron had been a fair bit calmer around her, still not super-friendly, but certainly calmer—and definitely still very polite.
“My friend Mercedes just got a promotion at work and wants to go out to celebrate. She’s put our names on the VIP list at a bunch of different hot spots. The woman has crazy connections. I don’t know how she knows so many people.”
