*Isabella's POV*
"I just realized something," Jacob murmured against my lips as he pulled back, his eyes glinting with that infuriating, boyish mischief. "The ocean makes you even sweeter."
I groaned. "Oh, stop… or I'll puke. You're so—"
"Irresistible?" he cut me off with a smirk so cocky it made me laugh despite myself. "You're such a big softie," I teased, poking his chest. "Excuse me," he flexed, showing off like an idiot, "but I'm hard everywhere." His bicep bulged obnoxiously, and I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling. "Maybe on the outside," I said, drawing out each word with mock seriousness, "but on the inside you're…"
He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes playfully. "I'm what?" I hesitated, letting the silence drag before shaking my head. "Nah. Just forget it."
"Oh, hell no." His grin widened as he leaned closer. "Please tell me."
I sighed, but he wasn't letting it go, so I gave in. "You're openly romantic. Like, full of sweet, diabetes-provoking lines. And I won't lie, I like it—god help me, I really do—but sometimes it's too much. I don't like bullshit, Jacob." His smirk faltered, just for a second, replaced with something stubborn in his gaze. "I swear I'm not bullshitting you," he said, his tone defensive but sincere.
"Really?" I lifted an eyebrow. "You smell like rain and spice? Who the fuck even says that?" I mocked, mimicking his deep tone. "'Mmm, Isabella, you smell like cinnamon rolls and thunderstorms.'" He laughed, shaking his head at me. "Good Lord, you're impossible. Let me guess—you've only ever dated jerks?"
"No," I shot back quickly. "Just normal guys."
He clutched his chest dramatically like I'd stabbed him. "Ouch. And here I thought I was original."
"For the record," I added, smirking as I stepped away from him, "you're the biggest jerk I've met in my whole damn life." Instead of being insulted, he chuckled, his eyes glimmering with amusement. "And yet… here you are. On a battleship. With me." Fuck. He wasn't wrong.
Afterwards, we found a little spot near the coast and grabbed lunch. The place smelled like fried shrimp and butter, with the faint salt of the ocean drifting in through the open windows. Jacob was still practically bouncing in his seat when the waiter set down our plates.
"Based on your never-ending dance of joy," I said dryly, stabbing at my fries, "I take it I brought you to the right place."
"I loved it," he said without hesitation, eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. "How can you not? That ship was in a war—an actual war. Seventy years ago. Can you imagine? The history in those engines, the stories in those steel walls..."
"Yeah, yeah," I cut him off, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'm so impressed." I lifted a fry in mock toast. "Battleship, check. Boy's inner twelve-year-old fulfilled."
He leaned across the table, pointing his fork at me like he was making a closing argument. "Oh, come on, there's gotta be somewhere that impresses you. Other than my mind-blowing kisses, of course."
I almost choked on my soda. "God, you're insufferable."
"Insufferably charming," he corrected with a grin.
I rolled my eyes, but my lips betrayed me, twitching into the faintest smile. The bastard noticed immediately.
"Ahh," he said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. "There it is. A smile. My greatest victory yet."I hesitated, staring at the fries I'd been shredding apart on my plate. Finally, I blurted, "Okay, well… your question this morning. It impressed me."
Jacob cocked his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Oh, that? Doll, it wasn't a question. It was a statement." He leaned in, lowering his voice like he was telling me a secret. "Move in with me."
My fork froze halfway to my mouth. "But how can I possibly… Jacob, last I checked, you lived in New York. So the house, well mansion, you're inviting me to is actually Damien's, not yours."
He shrugged like it was nothing. "Potato, potata. He's my twin brother, so technically, it's my house too."
I narrowed my eyes. "I don't think that's how property laws work."
He smirked, unbothered. "Details."
I groaned, dropping my fork. "And even if I went along with your crazy logic, Mr. Lancaster is going to be back next week. How the hell am I supposed to live with my boss?" My voice rose nervously.
Jacob didn't flinch. Instead, he smirked and leaned back in his chair, tossing me a wink. "The same way you'd live with your other boss."
"Ha-ha. Very funny." I shot him a glare, but my cheeks betrayed me, heating under his gaze. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll just stay the weekend and then head back to Cole's."
The playful spark in his eyes dimmed, just slightly, and for the first time all day he looked serious."But why?" Jacob pressed, setting down his glass with a soft clink. "That apartment is so fucking small. Damien's house is massive."
I raised a brow. "Oh, so you admit it's his house. And it's not a house—it's a mansion." I teased, leaning back in my chair, but my chest tightened at the way his eyes softened.
"Stay with me there," he said, his tone shifting from cocky to earnest. "We'll figure something out with Damien." His hand brushed mine across the table, deliberate and warm. "You'll see—he's not that bad."
I sighed, looking away. "I don't think he's bad, Jacob. It's just… awkward. I don't share the same relationship with him as I do with you."
That made him grin. "Then maybe it's time the two of you loosen up around each other." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his voice low and coaxing. "Watch a movie. Eat dinner. Talk about things other than work. It would be good for you."
"For me?" I asked skeptically.
"Yes, doll. For you." His eyes lingered on me in that intense, unblinking way that made me squirm. "You're always so fucking guarded with him. With me? You laugh, you tease, you don't hold back. Why not let him see that side of you too?"
I shook my head, but my pulse was racing. He always knew how to make everything sound so damn simple—even when it wasn't.