by Taylor Dean
But until that day comes, I’m along for the ride, willing to see where it takes me.
“HELLO SPENCER,” STONY says, his eyes lighting up as he watches me walk toward him.
I love the way he looks at me. His expression doesn’t remain blank, but brightens with interest.
He leans forward and kisses me softly. It’s never a quick peck and I kiss him back with a little too much gusto.
“Trying to distract me?”
“Is it working?”
“Always.”
“I’ll do it more often then.”
He kisses me again and it’s several minutes later that I say, “The water heater at 2501 Peppermill died.”
“Hmmmm . . . best sweet nothing I’ve ever heard.”
I laugh, wondering at my timing. “Sorry. The cost will be eight-hundred. Matt’s waiting for your approval.”
He nods. “Go ahead with it.”
“Okay, I’ll call him back.” After my phone call is complete, I join Stony again. “Need some help?”
Stony is bricking the house with bricks that are the deepest red I’ve ever seen. The trim will be white, which will give the home a fresh appearance. It’s going to be gorgeous next to a lush green lawn, which he has every intention of having.
He looks at me thoughtfully, if not a little inquisitively.
I tell him, “Dinner’s in the slow cooker, your books are in order, the cell is in my pocket in case anyone calls, and the motorhome is so spotless, I swear you could eat off the floor—although I don’t recommend doing so.”
“Good thing. Wasn’t about to.”
I laugh as he goes back for more bricks and piles them next to his work station. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him wear a tight short-sleeved shirt and I love that he feels comfortable enough around me to do so. It makes me wonder if feeling loved gives him confidence. I’d like to think so.
Just this morning I peeked out of my bunk when I heard him return home from his morning run. He was wearing shorts and that’s all.
That. Is. All.
Long sleeved shirts and sweats—his entire body covered from head to toe—are a thing of the past. It was the first time I’d seen his leg without pants to cover the vital parts. His silver running blade made him look like part man, part machine, and I’m not going to lie, he looked incredible. His fitness level is far beyond most men I know.
His skin was tanned, which made me wonder how long he’s been running without a shirt. He was covered in a silky sheen from sweat which accentuated his hard and lean body. His arms and abs were muscular and taut. Other than his scars, his skin was smooth and flawless. His thighs were corded and sinewy. He looked like a work of art. I can’t get the vision out of my head. He doesn’t know I saw him and I don’t want to make a big deal out of it and make it a thing. But, it was a thing to me. The sight of him left me breathless.
Presently, I don’t mention the sudden change from long sleeved to short sleeve either. I don’t want to make him self-conscious. I love the sight of his arms and my eyes are constantly drawn to them. The scars are simply a part of him, one of the things that make Stony, Stony. I’ve never kissed his scarred arm again, but I long to, just to show him how beautiful he is to me.
“You bored?”
“Yes. I can recite anatomy in my sleep and I want something to do.”
He kisses me again. “Grab some gloves and keep me supplied with bricks.”
I jump at the chance. I enjoy working side by side with Stony. I’ve spent a few afternoons hammering, drilling, and sawing. Stony is a patient teacher and seems to enjoy my presence. I enjoy helping him build his dream home. It makes me feel as though I have a vested interest in his house as well.
I don work gloves and grab bricks, placing them next to Stony. I watch as he works the spade expertly through the mortar, working it into the perfect texture.
“Why do you do that?” I ask. He’s never annoyed by my endless questions. I think he enjoys that I’m interested in his work.
“I’m adding a little air to the mixture and giving it more workability.”
I watch as he spreads the mortar onto the next layer of bricks and scrapes off the excess, creating a perfectly straight line. He butters a brick with the mortar and adds it, taps it down with the handle of the trowel, and again scrapes away the excess mortar. He works quickly and expertly.
“Wanna try?”
I frown. “I don’t want to mess it up.”
“You can’t hurt it. I’ll help you.”
“Okay,” I say. While I enjoy learning all the things he’s taught me how to do when it comes to construction, it’s really his close proximity that keeps me interested. The most mundane task is fun when we do it together.
This time is no exception. Stony stands behind me and has me hold the trowel. He places his hand over mine and shows me the motion for working the trowel. At first, I don’t get the hang of it because I’m so distracted with being so close to him. But after a few failed solo attempts, I finally focus and get it down. We complete two more layers of brick together before I break the silence. “Can I ask you a question?”
I hate his slight hesitation. “Sure,” he answers.
There is one subject we avoid and that’s Mia. I don’t like feeling as though there are things left unsaid between us. It’s the one thing that is a tiny thorn in our relationship and it makes me uncomfortable. If it weren’t for Mia, everything would be so perfect, it’s almost scary. We are a match in every way.
I concentrate on smoothing the mortar. “What happened to the picture on your nightstand?”
He stills for just a moment. It’s almost an imperceptible change, but I notice it. The framed portrait was suddenly missing about two weeks ago and I’ve just now mustered the courage to ask him about it.
“Put it away.”
“Why?”
He faces me, so I stop what I’m doing and face him too.
“I’ve moved on.”
I swallow and I think it sounds like a gulp. “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.” The simple act speaks volumes and tells me where his heart is. I know it must be hard to find closure with Mia. They experienced so much together. I think a part of him will always love her and it weighs on me. When does she get out of jail? And what will happen when that day comes? I’m in the dark.
I keep telling myself I don’t need to know, that it doesn’t matter. If I just flat out ask him, I’m sure he’ll tell me. But why invite her into our relationship? She doesn’t belong here. She need not be a topic of discussion. To be honest, as long as it’s over, the details are insignificant and I prefer to remain ignorant. If I don’t make it into an issue, it won’t be one. Besides, I’m not so insecure that I need him to completely forget his past and break off all ties.
The thing is . . . why do I feel so unsure when it comes to Mia? I’m trying to shake the feeling, but there it is. I’m only human.
He takes a step closer. “Yes, I did have to do it. It was time.”
I breathe in and out deeply. I’m falling for this man, deeper and deeper every day and it makes me wonder if I’m in danger of getting my heart broken.
“In case you haven’t noticed,” he says, “I kinda like you.”
“Just a little bit?”
“Maybe more.” He pulls off his work gloves, steps even closer, and pulls off my work gloves.
As he pulls me into his arms, I deliberately let my hand softly trail along the scars on his arm. He flinches at first, then he closes his eyes as I run my hand up and down his flesh. I love that my touch has such an effect upon him. Besides me, I doubt anyone has ever touched his arm in a loving manner. Surely the concept messes with his psyche. It would make me feel insecure and unlovable. While Stony is confident, he has expressed to me that he often wondered how a woman would ever love him as he is.
“Maybe a lot more,” he says softly.
Neither one of us have hidden the fact that we’re crazy for each other. A
nd yet . . . we haven’t made the leap into saying I love you quite yet.
But as he pulls me close and kisses me, I’m sure that I’m totally and completely in love with this man.
His kiss tells me he feels the same.
CHAPTER
Eighteen
“I LOVE SUNDAY dinner at your mom’s house. I’m completely prepared to be stuffed.”
He groans. “If our stomachs are not full and bloated when we leave her house, she thinks she’s failed.”
“Will she be offended when we decline that second helping she adds to our plates without permission? Can’t we just say no, thank you?”
“3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . not it.”
His humor takes me off guard and I laugh a little too loudly. “Fine, I’ll be the bad guy.”
“Never. Mom already likes you more than me. Besides she’s trying to kill me and Shay. Death by forced gluttony.”
“There are worse ways to die.”
“Can’t think of one. Did you bring the antacid?”
“It’s in my purse.”
“Please, no green jello, please, please,” Stony says under his breath as if he’s saying a prayer to the food gods.
“The creamy jello with spinach in it wasn’t so bad last week.”
He glances at me. “We can no longer be friends. Mine crawled away and I still don’t know where it is. It’s hiding in Mom’s house somewhere, waiting for the perfect moment to attack me.”
I laugh out loud again. I roll down the window and let the breeze hit my face, wondering if I’ve ever felt this happy in my life. Stony should’ve been a comedian with how well he can keep a straight face when something is funny. I love how he makes me laugh.
His mom is an amazing cook, but a few of her dishes are very interesting. If she didn’t want us to eat until we’re ready to pop, it wouldn’t be so bad.
As we enter the house, however, tension is in the air. I immediately miss the usual warm and friendly atmosphere.
“I’m not looking forward to this, Mom. It’s going to be awkward,” we hear Shay say.
“Blake and his mom are lonely. With Mia in jail and Jace off in New York City, they need some family time and a home cooked meal.”
I smile at the way Caroline whispers the word jail. I think it’s her way of being discreet.
“Our families do not have the best history.” Shay folds her hands around her belly as we walk in.
“What’s going on?” Stony asks.
“Mom invited Blake and Irene to dinner.” Shay looks at me and says, “That’s Mia’s brother and mom.”
I notice the way Stony’s face pales, but he keeps his composure. “Think it’s best if I leave.”
“Nonsense,” Caroline says. “No one blames you, Drew.”
“Not so sure about that.”
“Blame you for what?” I ask.
Three pairs of eyes exchange glances. I would describe them as nervous glances and it confuses me.
“The whole Mia thing,” Caroline says, brushing it off. “They’re our neighbors and Irene used to be my dearest friend. I hate the way we’ve drifted apart. Someone has to be the bigger person and end the silence between us.”
“Her son started the silence,” Shay mumbles under her breath.
Caroline rubs her back. “Now, Shay, you moved on from Jace and married someone else. Don’t worry about it. It’s ancient history and water under the bridge.”
“Jace?” I whisper to Stony.
“That’s Shay’s ex-boyfriend. He’s Mia’s brother. He broke her heart, remember?”
Oh, yes. Stony had mentioned that before. I just never realized he was Mia’s brother. So Stony dated Mia, and Shay dated Jace, Mia’s brother. Talk about complicated. Neither relationship worked out. No wonder the two families no longer communicate. I imagine that put a huge strain on the friendship between Caroline and Irene.
“I heard that,” Shay says as she butters hamburger buns. “He did not break my heart. I married someone else and broke his heart.”
Stony shakes his head in the negative at me and a hamburger bun goes flying across the kitchen and hits him in the head. Stony catches it and mocks Shay by taking a big bite while staring at her.
Caroline grabs the errant bun and throws it away. “You two!” she says. She directs her next comment to me. “When they get together, it’s like they’re twelve again.”
“I have a big brother too and we’re the same.” My maturity level goes down a few notches when I’m with Grayson. That’s okay. Siblings are allowed to be silly with each other.
Stony seems to think things over in that contemplative way of his. “Mom’s right. Time to end the silence between our families.”
Shay sighs. “I don’t have to like it.”
“No, you don’t, but it’s the right thing to do.” Caroline tosses the salad with vinaigrette.
“Blake is so . . . creepy.” Shay pretends to shiver.
“He makes a good living.” Stony turns to me. “Blake is the cliché adult who lives in his mom’s basement playing and creating video games all day. Except his mom doesn’t support him, he supports her. Irene wasn’t left in a good financial situation when her husband left her. He basically abandoned his family. Blake’s crazy good with computers as well. I think the kid is a genius.”
Shay grimaces. “He’s pasty white. He doesn’t leave the basement, like ever. I never see him outside. It’s weird.”
Caroline places the salad on the table just as the doorbell rings. “They’re here.” She nervously runs her hands down her apron and heads for the door.
By the time we join her, Caroline and Irene are locked in a fierce hug. It would appear whatever happened between them has now been forgiven.
Once again I’m in the dark. Was it the failed relationships between Stony and Mia plus Shay and Jace that tore the two friends apart? More than likely. Otherwise this wouldn’t be awkward for Shay and Stony. Stony is much more serious than usual and Shay looks mad at the world.
“Why haven’t we done this sooner, Caro? I’ve missed you.”
“We shouldn’t have let so much time pass us by, Rini. There’s no reason why we can’t still be friends.”
Irene’s eyes wander the surroundings. “Your living room looks lovely.”
“Well, I had it redone, you know.”
Irene’s eyes fall on Stony. She looks him over, then approaches and hugs him tightly as well. After a long hug, she places her hands on either side of his face and examines him. “You’re looking well, son. Good to see.”
“Good to see you, Irene.”
The crease between Stony’s eyebrows seems more pronounced than usual.
Irene gives Shay a hug as well. “Look at you.” She pats her belly a few times. “How soon, dear?”
“Another month or so.”
“Babies have their own timelines,” Irene says. Then her eyes fall on me. Is it my imagination or does her expression harden? “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Oh . . . uh . . . this is Spencer. She’s, uh, working for Stony. She’s such a gem,” Caroline provides.
I don’t get a hug, not that I expected one, but instead I receive a curt nod—and I wasn’t expecting it to be so frosty.
I get it. I’m sure Mia’s mother would still like to see Stony and Mia work things out. Maybe Mia shouldn’t have landed herself in the whispered place if she wanted to hold onto Stony.
Hmmmm, I don’t like my catty thoughts. But there it is.
However, the thing that hurts is the way Caroline hesitated over introducing me, as if she was scared to admit that Stony and I are seeing each other. Ouch.
But then, she’s trying to repair relations with them, so I’m sure keeping things on the down low is best.
It’s then I notice Blake. He’s been standing in the background, as if waiting to be acknowledged. He’s wearing black jeans and a long sleeved black dress shirt, buttoned all the way up to his neck and tucked into his jeans. A black belt
that cinches his jeans a tad too much tops off the look. His dark hair is slicked back flat on his head and he’s wearing small circular lens sunglasses which he obviously has no intention of removing even though he is now indoors. His skin really is pasty white and I now understand why Shay feels he’s creepy.
He holds out his hand and I shake it. His skin is a bit clammy and I have to remind myself not to react.
“Blake Faraday,” he says with a nod.
“I’m Spencer,” I say.
He and Stony embrace in a typical guy hug, patting each other’s backs. “Hey, Blake.”
“Hey, Stony. Good to see you, man.”
Caroline calls us all to dinner then and we take our seats. She asks Stony to say grace just as she does every Sunday and he does so beautifully, yet simply.
Dinner today is sloppy joes, tossed green salad, squash casserole, fresh green beans, and a cream cheese red jello concoction with a crushed pretzel crust.
“At least it’s red,” I whisper to Stony.
He flashes me a funny face. He hates jello. But, out of respect to his mother, he’ll eat his serving without blinking an eye.
The dinner conversation is cordial, if not a little stiff. Caroline inquires after each of Irene’s children.
Blake answers for himself. “Doing well, thank you. I’m in the midst of contract negotiations with Sony for a new video game.”
“That’s wonderful, dear. And Jace?”
Irene answers, “He’s employed at a law firm in New York City. They pay him quite well, you know. He’s still single and I wish he’d find someone soon.”
I notice the way Irene glances at Shay as she announces his dating status. Shay doesn’t meet her eyes.
I know who Caroline will ask about next. “How’s sweet Mia?” I bristle at the question, but I’m all ears.
“As well as can be expected. She said to thank you for the box of cookies. She’s lost too much weight in that place. They don’t feed them enough.”
Irene whispers the word place. Evidently no one can refer to or say the word jail normally.
“Prison, Mother, she’s in prison. Not jail, not place, prison.” Blake shakes his head and Irene acts as though he didn’t even speak.
