Page 26 of Resisting Isaac

And now she’s here.

On my family’s ranch. Where I just handed over a signed contract saying I wouldn’t touch her.

I kill the engine in front of the cabin. The guest cabin is closer to Wyatt’s house than mine, probably safer since it would be tough for me to sneak over here without my brother or his wife noticing.

Because if I’m being honest with myself? I’d be sneaking my ass over here every chance I got if I didn’t think we’d get caught.

“Here it is. The infamous Lazy Bear cabin,” I joke as I climb out of the vehicle.

Shedoesn’t move.

“Elena? You okay?”

As if I’ve switched her back on, she shoots out of the side-by-side like a rocket then turns to me with conflicting emotions swirling in her eyes.

Is that fear? Regret?Fuck.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she snaps, voice shaking. “Am I okay? No, I sure as hell am not okay.”

My brows draw together. “I can see that. Want to talk about it?”

“Talk about it?” She’s pacing in front of the cabin like she’s about to come apart at the seams. “You’re serious?”

I move toward her cautiously. “Is that a yes or?—”

She whirls on me, eyes blazing. “Of course. Of-fucking-course this is happening right now.” Her eyes fill with moisture, and she shakes her head. “The most perfect part in the history of parts is finally mine, and I fuck it up before it even starts.”

“Maybe take a breath, spitfire.”

Her face goes pale. Then red. Then pale again. “Do not call me that. Oh my God.Oh my God.”

“Elena.” I say her name softly this time, careful now. “Breathe. Please.”

“You—me—we—” She gestures wildly between us. “We already slept together. After we signed contracts saying we wouldn’t.”

So this is what this feels like. If any woman ever regretted sleeping with me, I wasn’t around afterward to witness the remorse. This one is regretting her every life decision before my eyes.

I rub a hand across the back of my neck, the heat of her panic crawling under my skin. “Technically, I signed that contract after?—”

“Don’t.” She cuts me off, pacing again. “Don’t try tocowboy charm your way out of this. This is bad. This is like, fired-on-day-one bad. Just-blew-my-shot-at-the-biggest-role-in-my-career bad.”

“Okay,” I say carefully, “you need to calm down before you talk yourself into a panic attack.”

She rounds on me again. “Do not tell me to calm down. Ever.”

I hold up both hands. “Just a little concerned that you’re spiraling.”

“Of course I’m spiraling,” she hisses. “I had sex with the fucking worst possible person, on a show with a no-fraternization clause!”

I watch her pace again, eyes burning, hair falling in her face as she brushes it away roughly like she’s seconds away from combusting.

The words “raving lunatic” come to mind.

But God help me, I still want her.

Badly.

“I don’t know if I’m theworstpossible person you could’ve hooked up with. I mean, Wyatt’s married to the show’s writer so?—”