“Oh!” Isabel’s eyes rounded. “If you think I’m up to it, I’d love to help!”

Suzanne gave an unladylike snort. “If you’re up to it? I used to read your blog all the time. You’re more than up to it. There will be about fifty of us, half of them the men from ASI whose tastes are hardy and simple—” She glanced with amusement at Joe, Metal and Jacko. “And the other half are their plus ones and my side of the aisle, who have more, let’s say, sophisticated tastes. A fun mix. My friend really needs help with the menu. Can I put the two of you together?”

“Sure.” Isabel and Suzanne brought out their cells and exchanged numbers.

Suzanne gave a sigh. “I am really sorry to have to go. But before I do...” She placed an elegant hand on Isabel’s shoulder. “Let me say how very sorry I am for your loss. The Massacre was a tragedy for our country and for all the people lost. I would have voted for your father. He was a good man.”

“He was. Thank you,” Isabel said simply, placing her hand over Suzanne’s.

Suzanne bent forward and gave her a hug, surreptitiously wiping under her eye. “So, I’ll be in touch about the menu,” she said briskly when she pulled away. “I’m leaving you in excellent hands and say hello to Felicity and Lauren. If Allegra can make it, she said she’d pop in to say hello, too.”

“I’m such a fangirl,” Isabel said.

“I’ll be sure to let her know. Douglas said he’d stop by with tickets for the concert. Did he?”

“Oh yeah.” Isabel pointed with pride at the two tickets on the coffee table.

Suzanne smiled. “One thing you’ll learn about these guys—” She waved her arm to include Joe and Metal and Jacko, who had barely lifted his head from his plate. “They’re really reliable. If they say they’ll do something they’ll do it.”

“I know.” Isabel smiled at Joe and it was like a punch to the stomach. “I’ve got a bank vault of a house to prove it.”

“I’ll be in touch.” Suzanne looked at her watch again and winced. “Must go, bye!” She kissed the air and was gone in a cloud of perfume.

“You okay, honey?” Metal and Jacko were back to the food, really absorbed in what they were eating. Joe bent down and kissed Isabel’s cheek, but really it was an excuse to touch her skin. He’d never felt skin that velvety before. Strands of her hair caught on his stubble. He fingered his chin. He had to shave or he’d rough up that smooth soft skin tonight.

And man, he didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want anything rough to touch her, ever again. He himself had big, rough hands but he took care to touch her gently. She was so soft all over, particularly that warm wet softness between her legs.

“Yes, I’m fine. Why?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe because you’ve got your house invaded by men who from the looks of it haven’t eaten in a year. Then their women are coming over and you’ve promised to feed them. Then Suzanne comes over and asks for help in preparing for the big party up at the Lodge. Is it too much?”

She didn’t even pretend not to understand what he was saying. She’d led the most secluded life he’d ever seen for these past three months. Now that he knew her background, he understood why. Massive trauma, the terrible aftereffects of the Massacre. She’d fled here to Portland to hide away from the world.

Now the world had found her. Metal, Jacko, the Senior, Felicity, Lauren, Suzanne. And the party at the new lodge—the entire crew, fifty strong. Could she handle that?

“Growing up, our house was always filled with people,” she said softly, looking him directly in the eyes. “I loved it. I think I needed these past months of solitude. I wasn’t fit company for anyone. But now—”

“You were absolutely fit company!” Joe protested. “It’s just that—”

“Hey, Isabel.” They both turned to the table where Jacko was holding up a super clean plate. There wasn’t even a molecule of food left. He was trying for pathetic. The waif who hadn’t eaten in days. Even if he was a super buff two-hundred-forty-pound mass of muscle. “Any more of this stuff?”

Chapter Seven

Isabel had never seen a human face with no expression whatsoever on it before. Even blankness was an expression. But Joe betrayed absolutely nothing as he beat the pants off Metal and Jacko. Actually, if it had been strip poker instead of for money, they’d have both been naked right now and a fully dressed Joe would have had a pile of clothes on the table instead of a pile of chips.

They were sitting around the dining room table at her house instead of his and they weren’t talking. The poker game was a form of warfare. Though the three men were clearly very good friends, and Joe had talked a lot about how they’d helped him through rehab, you wouldn’t have known it from the game.

Isabel had offered alcohol. She had a bottle of brandy and a bottle of bourbon, but all three had turned it down, Metal and Jacko with expressions of horror.

“Bad enough playing Joe sober,” Jacko said. So she’d served coffee. The cups steamed at their elbows as they snapped cards up and down.

She didn’t really know the rules of this form of poker, so she wasn’t following the game, she was following the players. It was fascinating. There were moments of tension, but they all came from Metal and from Jacko. Though they had poker faces, too, there were tiny signs of elation or despair. What she knew were called tells.

Metal’s eyelid twitched a time or two, something entirely autonomous. Jacko’s index finger drummed against the hand of cards.

Joe had no tells. None. The skin around his eyes and mouth remained exactly the same. He had deep brackets around his mouth and the skin around his eyes was weather-beaten, but he had those all the time. Nothing at all changed. Not muscles, not his breathing, not his eye movements.

He only broke that utterly blank facade once, to wink at her. Then his face became a blank wall once more.

He’d won either twenty dollars or two hundred dollars—Isabel wasn’t too sure how much money each chip represented—when the front doorbell rang.

“That’s Lauren,” Jacko said, folding with an expression of disgust. “She just texted me. Joe, if you weren’t wearing a T-shirt, I swear I’d think you had an ace up your sleeve.”

“Watch, children, and learn,” Joe said, voice carefully neutral as he spread out his long arms and pulled in a ton of chips.

Metal and Jacko gave loud expressions of disgust just as Isabel opened her door.

Felicity and Lauren rushed in and laughed when they heard the two men groaning. “Joe’s winning again,” Felicity said.

“Winning big.” Lauren shook her head. “That’s real pain I’m hearing.” She offered her hand. “I’m Lauren. I belong to that big sore loser over there—” She pointed at Jacko, who was scowling at his hand of cards. “He’s usually not as sour as that, though he isn’t much of a smiler, either.”

“I heard that,” Jacko grunted as he looked over.

Lauren gave him a sunny smile and, to Isabel’s surprise, Jacko smiled back. It was genuine. He was happy to see her.

Lauren walked over and gave his shaved head a kiss. “Hello, darling, nice to see you, but I’m not here for you.”

“Gotcha. You’re here for the food.”

Lauren laughed. “That, too. But most of all to meet Isabel.”

“Who’s going out with the Prince of Darkness here,” Metal said.

“That’s an interesting thought,” Felicity said as Isabel took her coat and Lauren’s. “Do you think Joe made a pact with the devil? Sold his soul?”

“I’m right here,” Joe complained. “I was shot up but my hearing is just fine.”

“It’s more than possible he sold his soul,” Metal said. “I want a kiss, too.”

Felicity bent to kiss his cheek, whispered something in his ear. He met her eyes and smiled. A private joke.

Isabel’s parents used to do that, all the time. Drove their kids nuts until they got old enough to appreciate the fact that their parents genuinely liked each other. Not many of her friends had parents who even spoke to each other.