Stone Princess

by Devney Perry

  I added it to the mental list I’d been making.

  Over the past five months, I’d spent a lot of time reflecting on relationships. I saw how many of my own, romantic and platonic, had been unhealthy. It had started with my family—my biological family. I’d never trusted anyone in my youth besides my sister, but even our relationship had been strained, tainted by constant, simmering fear.

  I couldn’t remember a time when we’d laughed and played like children, with reckless abandon. I couldn’t remember fighting with her with that same recklessness either. And sisters should fight, just a little.

  My relationship with my mother had lacked all respect and adoration. I pitied her to this day. I had since the beginning. And my father? I loathed him with every fiber of my being.

  Those few romantic relationships of mine had been epically messy. Jeremiah was Jeremiah. I wasn’t going to dwell on my mistakes there anymore. And then . . . Shaw.

  The man I didn’t let myself think about often, because while Jeremiah had hurt me, Shaw had crushed me. I’d let him in. I’d let him see the real me. For the first time in my life, I’d let a man see me completely, and he’d cast me aside. He’d had no faith in me, in our bond.

  We’d been tested.

  He’d failed.

  Thankfully, after those first few days, blocking him out had been easy. It helped to know I wouldn’t run into him around town. The television could be shut off when his face appeared. Magazines in the salon could be flipped to another page.

  After a couple of months, after I’d set aside my anger and disappointment, I’d been able to examine that relationship too. In a way, I had Shaw to thank for this new outlook. Because he’d wounded me so deeply, I’d vowed to change. I’d vowed to raise my standards.

  If a man didn’t chin the bar, he was gone. I had my expectations and I would not lower them an inch.

  I was learning from the relationships around me, stealing pieces of happy pictures for my own collage.

  Bryce and Dash had endless passion. They held each other accountable. They challenged one another. They made the other a better person, never doubting the other’s love.

  Trust.

  Partnership.

  Draven had loved Chrissy with his entire being, even in death. He’d made some mistakes, but his heart had always been hers.

  Dedication.

  Genevieve and Isaiah had so much faith in one another. No trial would tear them apart.

  Loyalty.

  Friendship. Love. Peace.

  Maybe I’d get lucky and put checkmarks beside them all. Maybe I’d have the chance to build a family of my own and have a baby, like the one in my arms.

  Shaw’s betrayal had inspired this list. I was doing my best to look back on our time together and see it fondly. Some days I was more successful than others, but I was healing. He was a memory I hoped one day wouldn’t taste so bitter.

  Genevieve and Isaiah’s week-old daughter let out a small sigh in my arms and I shifted us both, swaying Amelia gently.

  “You are so precious.” I stroked my finger over her button nose.

  “Isn’t she?” Genevieve said, coming down the hallway from their bedroom. Her wet hair was combed, and she was in a pair of baggy sweats. Her movements were stiff and slightly pained as she sat in the recliner opposite the couch.

  “Feel better?”

  She nodded. “Thank you. Showering has suddenly become difficult.”

  “That’s expected.”

  Genevieve and Isaiah had survived their first week as parents but both were exhausted. I’d brought over soup and bread for them today, then volunteered to be on Amelia duty while Genevieve took a long shower.

  While her mother was gone, I’d studied the baby’s face, trying to decide who she looked like. I hadn’t reached a conclusion yet, but her hair was Genevieve’s.

  “She has Draven’s hair. Your hair.”

  “She does.” Genevieve smiled at her daughter. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

  “Of course.”

  The joy in her eyes dimmed. “I’ve been thinking about him. Dad. You knew him a lot better than I did.” I’d had years with Draven whereas Genevieve had only known him for months. “Will you help me?”

  “With what?”

  “I want Amelia to know who he was. The good parts. Maybe you can help me teach her about him.”

  Oh, my heart. “I’d be honored.”

  I looked down at the baby, lowering my voice. “Your grandfather was the best man I’ve ever known. He saved my life.”

  “He did?” Genevieve asked. “I didn’t know that. How?”

  “He gave me a family. He gave me something to fight for. I was a broken girl when I came to live in Clifton Forge, and he didn’t pick me up. He expected me to do it myself. So I did.”

  Draven hadn’t believed in victims. After I’d gotten to know him, he’d asked me about my childhood, and I’d summarized the general feel of my childhood home. He’d listened intently. He’d empathized. Then he’d told me something that had set the course for my future.

  You’re stronger and better than your past. Choose the life you want and work your ass off to make it happen.

  There’d been bumps along that road, but I was still working my ass off.

  “Draven took me out for my twenty-first birthday,” I told Amelia and Genevieve. “He wouldn’t let the guys come along. We went to The Betsy and he ordered me a lemon drop. I got to drink two sips and then he took it away. He hauled me down the street to Stockyard’s and bought me a burger and a Coke. He was always the protector, your grandpa.”

  Genevieve laughed. “That sounds like him.”

  “I never told him that after I went home, Dash, Emmett and Leo showed up at my house and we went back to The Betsy, where they proceeded to get me rip-roaring drunk. I’ve never puked so hard in my life.”

  Not even the wedding drunkenness could compare to that birthday.

  Isaiah came around the corner from the kitchen. “Huh?”

  Genevieve and I both giggled, waving him off. “Nothing.”

  He walked into the living room and went to Genevieve’s chair first, bending to kiss her. Then he came over and knelt beside the couch, gazing at his daughter like the miracle she was. “How we doin’, Aunt Presley?”

  “Great,” I whispered. “Really great.”

  If “Aunt Presley” was as close to a family as I could get, I’d call myself blessed for eternity. Like Draven had watched over me, I would watch over this baby girl along with Bryce and Dash’s boys too.

  A pair of boots stomped outside the front door and Isaiah hurried over before the doorbell could ring and wake up Amelia. “Hey.”

  “Hi.” Luke stepped inside, quickly shutting the door behind him to keep the cold air out. He had a bouquet of yellow roses in his hand, identical to the bundle he’d taken to the hospital last week when we’d gone to see Amelia after she’d been born. “I hope these didn’t freeze on the walk over.”

  Genevieve pushed herself up and crossed the room, taking the flowers and pressing them to her nose. “You’re so sweet. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” He bent to kiss her cheek, then shrugged off his coat before rubbing his hands together, warming them up.

  I smiled as he came over and sat beside me on the couch. “Did you wash your hands first?”

  Luke grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m only sharing her for ten minutes. Then she’s mine again.” I transferred the baby into his arms, my ovaries exploding at the sight of him cooing at Amelia.

  Luke Rosen, Clifton Forge chief of police, might just hit every single item on my list.

  “How are you?” He leaned over to brush a kiss to my cheek.

  “Good.” I inched closer, letting the warmth of his arm seep into mine. “How was your night?”

  “Quiet, thankfully. It’s too cold for people to cause trouble.” Luke had filled in last night for a patrol officer who was sick. He’d been out patrolling
the streets instead of out to dinner with me.

  Turns out, I had a thing for cops.

  And Friday nights were reserved for Luke.

  Luke and I had met in the grocery store one Friday night, about a month ago. The place had been nearly deserted except for the two of us in the frozen foods section. We’d both been hovering around the frozen lasagnas.

  Then he’d formally introduced himself.

  I’m Luke Rosen.

  I shook his hand and we lamented about how sad it was to cook a large lasagna for one person. One thing led to another, and neither of us left the store with groceries. I went out to dinner with him instead.

  We’d had dinner together every Friday since. And some Wednesdays. And a random Monday. And nearly every Saturday. We were taking things slowly, getting to know one another.

  Luke had helped me move past Shaw’s hurt. He was a genuinely good man and his introduction had come at a time I’d needed to believe in good men again. And day by day, dinner by dinner, he’d become important.

  “What’s your plan for the day?” he asked.

  Across from us, Genevieve and Isaiah were in the recliner. While we’d been crooning over their daughter, Isaiah had sat down and Genevieve had climbed into his lap. The two of them were almost asleep.

  “I was going to hang out here for a while,” I said quietly. “Give those two a break.”

  “Want some company?”

  I smiled. “I’d love some.”

  An hour later, after Luke and I had disappeared into Isaiah and Genevieve’s TV room to talk while Amelia napped in his arms, we reluctantly returned her to her mother.

  “Thank you,” Genevieve said, bouncing Amelia, who was beginning to fuss and nuzzle toward Genevieve’s breast. “I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

  “We’ll get out of your hair.” I hugged her and Isaiah, then Luke and I let ourselves out.

  “It’s two o’clock,” he said, checking his watch as I shivered in the cold. “Want to go to a movie?”

  “Sure.” As long as it wasn’t a Shaw Valance film, a movie sounded great.

  “I’d better drive in case I get called in.”

  “Okay. We can leave my car here.”

  “You sure?” he asked.

  “Yep.” I looped my arm with his as he escorted me down the block five homes to his house. Luke was Genevieve and Isaiah’s neighbor.

  We went to a movie, a comedy that had us both laughing hysterically, then Luke took me to Stockyard’s for a burger. I didn’t even glance at Jeremiah’s former poker table. Or at the high-top where Shaw had eaten with Dacia. I focused on Luke and the meal, talking until all that remained on our plates was a handful of fries.

  “That was fun,” I told him as he escorted me to his truck.

  “Yeah.” He winked, then held the door for me.

  I tracked him as he walked around the hood, his long legs hurrying so he could get in out of the cold. His dark brown hair was clean cut and short. He had these dark, deep blue eyes with a hint of charcoal around the iris. Luke’s smile wasn’t flashy, but it was warm and kind.

  He held my hand as we drove. “Next week, I want to take you to a steakhouse about an hour from here.”

  I knew the restaurant he was referring to. It was a popular spot for locals in Clifton Forge when they wanted to get out of town and do something special. “That sounds great.”

  “Friday.” He glanced over and smiled.

  When he turned to the road, I studied his profile.

  Luke was comfortable. Being with him was easy. There weren’t butterflies fluttering every moment he was around, but when he shot me that smile or a wink, I shivered.

  Maybe it wasn’t blinding passion like my time with Shaw, but there were different levels of passion, right? Besides, passion wasn’t number one on my list.

  Luke steered us toward his neighborhood, returning me to my Jeep. He’d go start it for me so it could warm up. Then he’d wait until the windows were clear of frost and kiss me before saying good night.

  Then he’d go to his home while I went to mine.

  We had yet to spend the night together.

  The furthest we’d progressed physically were wet kisses in his truck or my Jeep. Luke hadn’t even tried to feel me up.

  Maybe it was time.

  “What if you didn’t take me to my car? What if you took me home instead and came inside?”

  His face whipped to mine and his eyes flashed, sexy and dark. “Yeah?”

  And then . . . butterflies. “Yeah.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up as he slowed, then flipped a U-turn.

  “Was that legal?” I asked.

  He chuckled and the sound made my pulse race. The anticipation, the slow burn of the past month, hit me like a wave, and suddenly, he couldn’t drive fast enough.

  I clutched his hand, my foot bouncing on the floor as he raced—safely—through town. “Would it be an abuse of power to turn on your lights so we could get there faster?”

  Luke flashed me a white smile as my stomach flipped. “Probably.”

  He obeyed the traffic laws, not that I was surprised. Luke was a rule follower.

  The rebel inside of me, the one I didn’t let out much, wished he’d take a risk, but I wasn’t listening to her anymore. I’d taken a risk with Shaw only to crash and burn.

  So the rebel was muted and I clung to Luke and his rules. He was not a man who’d accuse me of selling his secrets and make me cry for days.

  My neighborhood came into view and my heart galloped in my chest.

  I was having sex tonight. With Luke.

  Luke and me. Me and Luke.

  Was I ready for this? I took another look at his handsome profile. Yes.

  He pulled into my driveway and my seat belt came off, but before we could get out, his phone rang. “Oh, hell. It’s dispatch. I have to take it.”

  My stomach dropped and I forced cheeriness into my voice. “No problem.”

  Damn it. Every time dispatch called Luke, it meant dinner would be cut short. He pressed his phone to his ear, and given the way his shoulders fell with every passing second, I was guessing there wouldn’t be sex after all.

  Why wasn’t I more disappointed? Maybe I needed a little more time to wrap my head around Luke and me. Me and Luke.

  “Be there in five.” He hung up and growled. “Sorry, Pres. Some old lady drove her car into the gym on Central.”

  My eyes bugged out. “What?”

  “Yep.” He popped the p.

  “That’s um . . . she drove into the gym? Wow.” I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. With Luke, there’d never be a shortage of interesting stories.

  “I don’t know how late it’s gonna be.” He sighed. “Tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow.” I leaned across the console to kiss him goodnight.

  The moment my lips brushed his, he hooked a finger under my chin, pulling me closer. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, asking permission to enter.

  When I opened for him and he slid inside, my entire body gave a collective sigh. Comfortable.

  The kiss wasn’t scorching. It wasn’t fast-paced or frantic. There were no curling toes or ripped clothes. But it was delicious, like the man himself.

  We broke apart and he dropped his forehead to mine. “There are times when being the chief fucking sucks.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Not as sorry as I am,” he muttered, making a quick adjustment to his jeans.

  “Tomorrow,” I promised. He nodded, reaching for the handle on his door but I held up a hand. “Stay warm. Call me later.”

  “Okay.”

  I hopped out of his truck, then I waited in the cold as he backed out of the driveway and raced away, this time flipping on the lights.

  Tomorrow. Luke and me. Me and Luke.

  “Luke, huh?” A deep voice echoed in the night and I gasped. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

  I whirled around, searching in the dark for the voice I
’d spent five months forgetting. Then he was there, standing on the porch of the house next door. The house that had been empty for months with a for-sale sign in the frozen yard.

  Shaw.

  He took the stairs deliberately, his natural swagger drumming up an onslaught of memories—reminders of how he moved with grace and determination in my house, in my bedroom. When he was two feet away, he tossed me a bag of baby carrots.

  The bag hit my arm and landed on my boots, muffled by the snow.

  “Hello, Presley.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Shaw

  I’d forgotten how beautiful she was.

  I’d forgotten the way her nose turned slightly at the tip. I’d forgotten how delicate and dainty her ears were and how small she seemed when I was standing this close.

  But I hadn’t forgotten those eyes. Even in the dark, those enthralling irises jumped out and ensnared me.

  “Hello, Presley.”

  She blinked.

  I bent to pick up the bag of carrots and brushed off the snow from the plastic. “Can we go inside? Talk where it’s warmer?”

  I’d come from sixty degrees in California this morning to zero in Montana. I was wearing a pair of jeans, tennis shoes and a sweater.

  When I’d arrived and seen that Presley’s Jeep wasn’t in her driveway, I’d unpacked my suitcases, then waited. When I’d seen headlights flash in her driveway, I’d stepped outside to meet her.

  I hadn’t expected to see Luke’s rig. I definitely hadn’t expected to see Presley lean across the console and kiss him.

  The cold had seeped into my bones the minute her lips had touched his.

  Fucking Luke? Really?

  I’d liked him, but that son of a bitch had crossed the line.

  Presley was mine. That was my pink mouth and those were my blue eyes.

  I was in Montana to fix my colossal fuckup and win back my girl. No more secrets. No more hiding. Presley was mine, and Luke had to go.

  “We can go to my place?” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder.

  Her eyes darted past me, taking in the light I’d turned on in the living room and the truck I’d parked in the driveway. This vehicle wasn’t a rental, not this time. There was nothing temporary about this trip. Presley did a double take, realizing she hadn’t noticed either when she’d arrived.