Stone Rules (A Mitchell Sisters/Stone Brothers Novel)

by Samantha Christy

  His eyes close as if I’d said something hurtful. As if maybe he’d had a funny feeling in the middle of his chest as well. When he opens them, the intense dark eyes are gone, replaced by cold, distant ones. “Fine.” He bends over to gather the strewn papers. “But this can’t happen again. I’m not in the business of servicing my clients.”

  I sigh with relief. “Thank you, Ethan.”

  His eyes soften at my use of his first name. “I’ll be in touch in a week or so with what I can dig up. Would you mind letting yourself out?” He nods to the ass prints on his desk. “I have a bit of cleaning up to do before my next appointment.”

  I giggle. “Sure thing. Bye . . . Stone.”

  He gives me an eye roll before hitting the button that unlocks the door.

  I walk down the hallway towards reception when I hear him call out behind me. “Hey, Tate?”

  I smile before turning around. “Yeah?”

  “Why the unicorn?”

  I open my mouth to feed him whatever bullshit I’ve told every other guy who asks about my tattoo. But what comes out surprises the hell out of me. What comes out is as close to sharing a truth about myself as I ever have with a man. “For protection.”

  He studies me for a second before disappearing back into his office.

  Chapter Five

  My body slices through the water almost effortlessly as my arms and legs gently propel me from one end of the pool to the other. I’ve always loved swimming. It’s not as punishing on my body as running, and the water offers a layer of protection. A bubble no one else can penetrate. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Serene.

  Today, however, my protective bubble is being infiltrated by my mother’s awful words from the journal entry I read yesterday. I kick my feet harder, quickening my pace in an attempt to leave my thoughts in my wake.

  It’s a futile effort. No matter how hard I swim, I can’t keep the demons away and my mind wanders back to the horrible day I lost my mother. Not the day of her funeral; not even the day I found out she died—those were just circumstances of her pitiful life. The day I lost my mother was that dreadful day in August of 2000.

  “Mommy, why do I have to do it again?” I whine, tired of pretending like I’m spilling a glass of milk for a paper towel commercial.

  “Because the nice man wants you to do it, Charlie.” She pulls me aside and whispers sternly to me. “Did you see all those other pretty girls out in the waiting area? We didn’t have to wait out there like they do because Mommy is a star. You want to be a star, too, don’t you baby? Well, here is your chance. But you have to do as the man says.”

  “Okay, Mommy.” I kiss her cheek and walk back over to the fake kitchen in the studio. I glance back at the woman I love. The woman I idolize. I would do anything to be like her. Everywhere she goes people want her autograph. They want to talk to her. Shake her hand. They want to be her. And this is my chance. Anything to make her and Daddy proud of me.

  The man telling me what to do gets a look on his face like someone gave him a double-scoop of chocolate chip ice cream with extra sprinkles on top. “Ms. Anthony, how would you like to play the child’s mother? I could guarantee her the gig.”

  I watch my mother’s mouth open. And close. And open again. And little do I know, what happens after this will change the course of my life. “Her mother?” She laughs haughtily, straightening her pencil skirt. “I’m barely thirty, I could hardly pass for her mother.”

  The man laughs, along with another man standing next to him. But they cover their mouths so that it’s not very loud. But I hear it anyway. I think Mommy does too, because she gets that look on her face like when I leave the refrigerator door open.

  The man clears his throat. “Uh, sorry, ma’am. I just thought it’d be great to actually have the mother and child share a resemblance. And if I do say so, this little one should be put in jail, ‘cause she downright stole your looks.”

  Mommy balks at the man, saying words that normally she would cover my ears before saying. Grown up words that sound mean and even make her pretty face look ugly as she says them. Words she is yelling at the man, but then she turns her head and it seems like she’s yelling them at me. Her fierce hazel eyes burn into mine as she becomes someone I’ve never seen.

  Then she stomps across the room and grabs me by the elbow. “Come on, Charlie. We don’t have to put up with this shit.”

  In the bright yellow cab on the way home, I cry. I think I’ve done something wrong. Something bad that made Mommy yell at those men. At me. I hug her and tell her I’ll do better next time, but she says there won’t be a next time. And she won’t look at me. She just stares out the window.

  Back at our house, she makes me sit in a chair while she goes to the bathroom. When she comes out, she has flour on her nose and I wonder why she would have flour in her bathroom. She also has a pair of scissors. “Turn around,” she demands. “I’m giving you a haircut.”

  “No, Mommy!” I squeal. “Then I won’t be pretty like you.”

  “Charlie, turn around,” she says again with distant eyes.

  “No, Mommy. Please don’t cut my hair.” I put my hands over my head to protect my hair from the sheers coming closer to my long locks.

  She reaches out and tugs my hair from my clenched fists, ripping it from my tiny clutches. “Daddy!” I scream. “Daddy!”

  “Daddy isn’t here,” she says coldly. “And if I tell him what a bad girl you were at the audition and now again for me—if I tell him all of that, he won’t love you anymore either.”

  I shake my head from side to side, dodging her hands as they try to grip my hair. I turn my head away from her and pull my knees up to my tummy, scrunching as tightly into a ball as I can get. I wish and pray it will all just go away. That it is just a bad dream. A bad dream where mommies don’t love their daughters and where daddies fail to protect them.

  “Turn around and sit still. Right fucking now,” she yells as her open hand hits the side of my face.

  It stings badly. Like the time I skinned my knee when I tripped over my feet running through the park, only worse, because this time Mommy doesn’t kiss my owie, she caused it.

  I erupt from the water to find myself gripping the edge of the pool, gasping desperately for the air that I had deprived my lungs. Thinking back on that day, I guess I forgot to breathe.

  As my body replenishes itself with oxygen, I see a welcome face peek around the corner.

  “I was hoping I’d catch you here,” Piper says, walking around the edge of the pool in her running clothes with a small towel draped over her shoulder. “Isn’t this place fantastic?”

  I guess it does pay to know people in high places. Piper’s fiancé, Mason, owns the gym along with her two brothers-in-law, Gavin and Griffin. I would never be able to afford a membership. Not for eight or nine months anyway.

  “Oh, good. Maybe you’ll save me a trip to the restaurant.” As I talk to Piper, I walk my hands along the wall until my feet can touch the bottom of the pool. Then I squeeze the water from my hair. “I was going to head there right after my workout to see if I could catch you or Skylar.”

  “You need a girls’ night or something? You know we’re always up for it.”

  “That sounds great, but that’s not why I was going to find you. I need a job, Piper.”

  Piper tilts her head suspiciously, staring at me like I’ve sprouted a third arm. “I thought you were leaving in a few weeks.”

  “Nah. I think I’ll hang around for a while.”

  A slow smile creeps across her face. “Are you kidding? Are you messing with me, Charlie? Because I’ve missed you so damn much these last six months and if you’re screwing with me, I might have to hurt you.”

  I laugh. “I don’t know if it’ll be forever, but for now, yeah, I’m staying. No joke.”

  Her squeals of delight bounce off the walls so loudly I have to cover my ears. But then the sound stops suddenly and she studies me. “Wait. Does this have anything to do with why
you needed a private investigator? You never did give me details on that, by the way. You took off as soon as I gave you Jarod’s cousin’s number.”

  I can’t lie to Piper. She’d see right through it. But I know she’d try to talk me out of my plan, and I can’t have that either. A half-truth will have to do. “I just want to find out some stuff about my mom. That’s all. No big deal.”

  She nods in understanding. “And private investigators are probably expensive, so you need a job.”

  “Not just any job. I need a job at Mitchell’s NYC, like now. I told the guy I work there so he’d give me a payment plan.”

  “Not a problem,” she assures me. “You can take my shifts. I’ve been working there until they could find someone good enough to replace me. Skylar would love to have you.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Pipes. But if you give me your shifts, what will you do?” I look through the expansive glass wall that separates the pool from the rest of the gym. The opulent fitness center that is owned in part by her fiancé. Duh. “Right. You’re marrying the next starting quarterback for the Giants. You don’t need a job.”

  “Oh, I’m going to work,” she says. “I was just thinking of trying something a little different. Like maybe get involved in community theater.”

  Now it’s my turn to squeal. “You’re kidding!”

  Theater was always Piper’s one true passion when we were young. But she gave it up after her attack. I never thought I’d see the day when she’d give it another go.

  She shakes her head, her excited eyes telling me she’s dead serious.

  “Oh my God, Piper Mitchell, you’ve really changed.”

  “I’m still me,” she pouts.

  “Yes, you are. Only better.”

  We share a smile only best friends can share. Then Piper’s eyes focus on something behind me. “That guy who just walked in. He looks familiar.”

  I turn to look before quickly spinning back around and sinking my body into the water up to my chin. “Oh, shit. That’s Ethan Stone. He’s the P.I. I met with today.”

  “That’s Jarod’s cousin?” she says too loudly, her voice raising a full octave in disbelief.

  “Shhhh,” I scold her, worried her voice will echo in the large aquatics room. “Would you please keep your voice down?”

  “No wonder he looks familiar. He’s probably come into the restaurant before. And what’s the big deal if he hears me?” she asks, eyeing me skeptically as I try to get the pool to swallow me further. “Oh, Charlie, you didn’t.”

  I shrug an innocent shoulder under the water, looking up at her with doe eyes. “I may have.”

  Her eyes close and she lets out a small sigh. But she doesn’t bother reprimanding me. She never does. She understands me. How I work. Why I do the things I do. And she never ever judges.

  “And now you’re avoiding him?” she asks.

  “Well, he said he couldn’t work for me if we were involved.” I use air quotes to punctuate the word.

  “Sounds like a smart man.” She studies him behind me. “With good taste in women.”

  “Ha!” I roll my eyes. “You should see the one he’s fucking at the office.”

  Her eyes narrow at him with that protective judgment of an overbearing sister. “Okay. Maybe not so smart.”

  I shrug. “He claims he’s not doing her, but I don’t buy it. She’s possessive as hell and a certifiable bitch.”

  “Wow. You must have been there a long time if you got to know her that well.”

  “I didn’t actually talk to her,” I confess. “Other than checking in when I got there.”

  A smile breaks across her face. “Oh, she’s the possessive one?”

  “Shut up.”

  She laughs. “I’ve got to go pick up Hailey, but I’ll make the call to Skylar later and tell her what’s going on. Meet me at work tomorrow before my ten o’clock shift and I’ll show you the ropes.”

  “Thanks, Pipes. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “Okay then” —she starts to walk away— “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Charlie,” she says loudly, putting extra emphasis on my name.

  I splash her before she makes her getaway. Then I look over my shoulder to see that yes, the hot and off-limits P.I. did in fact hear her.

  Before I have a chance to see his reaction, I return to my bubble, pushing off the wall and gliding under the water as long as I can before my lungs force me to come up for air. I break into a punishing freestyle stroke so I won’t hear if he tries to get my attention.

  A few minutes later, I question why I’m avoiding the guy. I mean he did just give me an earth-shattering orgasm. And he is all kinds of hot. Greek god Adonis hot. Gun strapped to his ankle during sex hot. Mysterious tattoo guy hot.

  But hey, I can be friends with a hot guy I’m not sleeping with. Right?

  A few weeks. That’s what he said. After that, I’ll have the information I’m paying him for and then—then we can have a torrid affair. Gretchen be dammed. I’m already planning all the shit I can put on his desk to make it more satisfying when I sweep it off. Or maybe the credenza. And there’s always the white couch in reception.

  “It’s not going to happen.” Masculine words pry me from my fantasy and I realize I’ve completely stopped swimming and am staring directly at Ethan Stone.

  Beads of water fall in a steady stream off the ends of his hair, that when weighted down with pool water, makes it appear even darker, longer and more unruly than before.

  And his tattoo. Holy hell, it’s sexy. I find myself wanting to trace the outline of it again. With my tongue.

  I snap myself out of it. “Uh, what are you doing?”

  He looks around the room and then back at me. “Do you mean what am I doing here at the gym that I’ve belonged to for the past three years? Or what am I doing in the pool that I swim laps in every night? Or maybe you mean what am I doing talking to the woman who seduced me mere hours ago? Which is it, Tate?”

  I smile. I’ve only known the man for one day, one hour even, but I can already tell his mood by the choice of the name he calls me. “Oh, so you swim?”

  “Every day. What—did I fail to mention that earlier?” he asks sarcastically.

  He barely talked during our meeting and he definitely didn’t say anything about his personal life. I don’t know thing one about him. That’s normally the way I like it.

  Normally.

  Without thinking much of it, as if I’m drawn to him by some kind of force-field, I dip below the water and swim underneath the three lane dividers that separate us. The closer I get to him, the more electrified the water becomes. Tingles flutter across my body as the water rolls across me.

  I pop up next to him, needing to tread water even though he is able to stand.

  “You should really stay in your own lane.” He raises a disapproving brow. “It’s just common courtesy.”

  “Are you going to fire me as your client if I don’t?” I let my head sink into the pool until the water rests just under my nose. Then I look up at him through my lashes.

  He shakes his head, giving me a frustrated smile before grabbing my shoulders, turning me around, and pushing me back under one of the lane dividers.

  I squirm out from under his hands and quickly swim around the back of him. I push off the bottom of the pool, catapulting myself up and out of the water so I can push down on him and dunk him under.

  He shoots out of the water, shaking out his hair by rapidly snapping his head from side to side. I swear, in my head, I see it all happen in slow motion. And I watch like a bitch in heat.

  He grabs me, cradling me like a baby in his arms. He holds me tightly against him as he ducks under each lane partition, never letting me go as he walks us to the side of the pool. He lifts me out of the water with little effort and sits me on the cold hard tile.

  “I need to finish my workout,” he says.

  We stare at each other as the water settles. I look down and see his erection clearly st
raining his well-fitted swim trunks. “I can help you with that.” I nod at it. “And I promise it’ll be a good workout.”

  “I can deal with that later, Charlie. By myself.” He sinks into the water and pushes off the wall with strong, muscular legs that torpedo him back into the middle lane.

  I don’t miss the fact that he called me Charlie. I guess playful, salacious Ethan Stone has left the building.

  He swims a perfect butterfly stroke, not even once bothering to look over in my direction as I watch him swim length after length of the pool.

  Refusing to believe I’m at all pouting, I finally decide to get up and head towards the locker room. I don’t look back. But that doesn’t stop me from fantasizing about all the ways he might ‘deal with that later.’

  Chapter Six

  Getting into the swing of things at the restaurant has been easier than I anticipated. Piper’s older sister, Skylar, manages Mitchell’s NYC, one of three establishments her parents own, and there are definite perks to knowing the owners—like getting higher starting pay than other new hires.

  I guess technically, I’m not a new hire. Growing up, I spent summers waitressing at the first restaurant they opened in the small town of Maple Creek, Connecticut, just thirty minutes outside the city.

  While most teenagers dreaded work, I couldn’t wait to go. Not only would I get to see Piper and her family, but it got me away from her. Even if only for a few hours at a time. I used any excuse I could find to be away from home. My mother would often call the restaurant to see if I was there. And after a while, it didn’t matter if I was actually within the four walls or not, whoever answered the phone claimed I was.

  They all knew I hated home. They all sensed something was wrong. They all tried to help. But my pride got in the way and I couldn’t bring myself to tell them. Even Piper didn’t know how bad it really was until we left the country after graduation. Prior to leaving, I finally confessed to Jan Mitchell that my mother abused me. She was livid at me for not telling her. At herself for not paying enough attention and noticing. She blamed herself. And because of that, I didn’t have the heart to tell her everything. It would ruin her. She’d already been through so much with Piper.