by Abbi Glines
“Thank you for making dinner,” I replied simply. Saying more was needless. He had said all that needed to be said.
“You’re welcome. You gave me a reason to cook. I’ve missed it.”
Jasper had given him a reason to cook. That thought popped up so quickly it almost sounded bitter in my head. I put a hand on that thought mentally and squished it down. I was not that girl. I never had been, and I wouldn’t start now. Stone wasn’t mine, and he wasn’t meant to be mine. My confusion was because I felt such strong feelings for Jasper. My emotions were blurring the lines, confusing things.
“Get comfortable. It’ll be a few more minutes. Dinner here isn’t a formal thing. I’m barefoot, and the table out on the balcony won’t have a tablecloth on it. Wear whatever you want.”
With that, he walked back to the kitchen. I waited until he was gone before letting out a sigh. From day one Stone had made me uncomfortable, nervous, and angry. The relief, gratefulness, and odd flutter in my chest at the sight of him now mixed with those other emotions was making this all too much. If I could just stop that damn flutter. If I didn’t take him in like I was drinking a cold drink of water on a hot day when I saw him, this would all be easy to deal with. I was good at adjusting. I was a fighter. But this . . . this was different. Fighting my attraction for a man I did not want to be attracted to was not one of my strengths apparently.
My common sense said he was Jasper’s best friend and that alone made him out of my reach. Stone wasn’t the kind of man a woman should fall for—not in love, or lust because he did in fact lack emotion. Unless he was looking at Geraldine. Or when he allowed his stepsister to drive him crazy because she had no home. Or when he stepped in time and time again to save Jasper from causing himself any pain or harm. Other than that . . . he was hard.
Frowning at my train of thought, I went into the bedroom and dropped my purse on the bed before changing into a pair of black leggings and a large gray sweatshirt that said Ireland across the front in green. I’d bought it for one dollar at a thrift store three years ago. It was soft and worn. When I felt lost inside, I cuddled in its warmth.
Leaving my feet bare I made my way toward the kitchen. The music had been turned off, and the only sounds in the apartment came from the activity in the kitchen.
Stepping inside the kitchen, my gaze immediately went to Stone. He was filling a plate with what looked like a pasta dumpling and salad. His gaze lifted to mine and a pleased smile touched his lips. “I think it turned out good. I’ll let you be the judge of that though. Haven’t made these in a few years. They were one of Gerry’s favorite when I was a kid. She taught me to make them.”
Again, when he said her name I could hear the love clearly in his voice. I couldn’t say Stone was always unfeeling and hard as his name suggested because the way he felt for that elderly woman dismissed his grumpy demeanor.
“It looks delicious,” I assured him. It also smelled delicious.
“You ever had pierogi?” he asked setting one plate down and picking up the second one. His eyes were still on me.
“No,” I admitted.
“Good,” he said as he finished preparing the plate. “You won’t have anything to compare it to. Less pressure on me.”
“If they taste as good as they smell I’m sure it’ll be wonderful. Can I help you do something?”
“Wine. I usually have a chardonnay with pierogi carbonara. A sauvignon blanc is good too. But stay away from reds. Never enjoyed the combination.”
I had no idea how to choose wine. Even when I was told what kind to choose. They were all the same to me. But I didn’t say as much. Instead, I went to the large wine rack beside his bar and looked for either of the two wines he mentioned. I figured I’d go with the first I found. Different wineries meant little to me.
Glancing at the wines, I only saw reds. Then I remembered that the Van Allans kept their whites in a wine cooler thing. I checked for one and found it behind what appeared to be an elaborate cabinet door. The chilled white wines lined the racks inside. I quickly found a chardonnay, pulled it out and met Stone in the doorway. Both his hands were full. “Glasses and wine opener are already on the table. Take it out there. I’m right behind you.”
I started to turn when his eyes went to the bottle and he chuckled.
I glanced at the bottle wondering what I’d done that was amusing. When he didn’t say anything else, I looked at him. “What’s wrong? You did say chardonnay?” I began wondering if I’d misunderstood.
“Yes. I did. And you chose the cheapest bottle. It also happens to be my favorite. I’ve never had a female pick that bottle out. Most go for the Montrachet or the Coche-Dury Corton-Charlemagne.”
He could have been speaking a different language for all that meant to me. I could act like I knew wines or be honest. He knew my background and pretending in front of him was silly. “I just grabbed the first chardonnay I found.”
He chuckled some more. “Well, you’d have found five more bottles of the one you’re holding right now. I buy a bottle every time I go to Target.”
Target? Stone went to Target? “Really?” I asked wondering if he was making a joke.
“Yes. They are the only place around here I’ve seen it. I try to grab a bottle when I’m close by.”
The idea of Stone shopping at Target made me grin. That seemed so out of place.
“Something funny?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes. You shopping at Target. Sorry, but that’s funny.”
He smirked then. “I like the soft pretzels in their café there too. Want to laugh about that while you’re at it?”
I did. I laughed loudly. I didn’t mean to but I did. Stone with a Target soft pretzel was too much. When I finally gained composure, I wiped at the tears in my eyes and smiled up at him. He was watching me. His expression was one I couldn’t read and was so brief, it was there for a moment then gone. I almost thought I didn’t see it, but it had caused a flutter. Damn that flutter.
THE TASTE OF THE CRISP cool wine felt nice on my tongue. It washed down the delicious meal perfectly. Stone explained the filled dumplings were popular in Eastern Europe. He also told me about the process to make them. Geraldine had been taught by a Polish friend of hers when she was a young woman. I ate and listened to him talk. As the wine relaxed me the sound of Stone’s voice became richer, thicker, and more appealing.
That was not a good thing. I knew it, and I fought against it until my third glass of wine made me simply not care. It wasn’t my fault Stone had a nice voice. I had to accept it and get on with my life. Right now, I would enjoy listening to him talk though. It wasn’t hurting anyone.
Once the food was cleared from my plate and my third glass was almost empty, the pain that came with thoughts of Jasper was gone as was my constant fear of losing my sister. I trusted Stone. He said I wouldn’t lose her and I believed him. I had no reason to think he was being dishonest. He was a good man. He was a bastard at times too. But deep down he was good.
“No I’m not, Beulah,” he replied.
I frowned wondering what he was talking about. Had I said something out loud? “Huh?” I asked needing clarification.
“Deep down I am the same. Cold, hard, indifferent. Don’t confuse my actions for anything more.”
I had said it out loud. He didn’t mention the bastard bit, so I apparently hadn’t said that. Words continued to pour forth without my bidding. “I disagree. I’ve seen you with Geraldine. I know you have a heart. You protect her and care for her. You give her that smile that other women never receive. Then there is the way you protect Jasper from himself. You have your problems, but no one helps you or seems to care.”
I snapped my mouth shut realizing I was saying way too much and the wine was the reason.
“They need me. I don’t need them. I don’t need anyone.”
“Everyone needs someone,” I replied.
“No, Beulah. They don’t. Some of us are strong enough.”
No one was
strong enough to need no one. “You need to be needed. You need Geraldine and Jasper to need you. That’s what gives you peace. It gives you purpose. Maybe you aren’t weak by needing to be rescued the traditional way. But you need to be strong. That’s what saves you.”
As I heard the words coming out of my mouth, I understood him better. Strange how a little Target wine can make you see things you were missing.
Stone stood up and picked up both of our plates. “I believe that’s enough for us both. Good night, Beulah. I hope you enjoyed dinner and sleep well,” Stone said as he walked inside with the empty plates. I stared at the door as it closed behind him. My butt was still planted firmly in the chair. I had made a very good observation and he’d walked off. Just like that. Had it angered him? Why did he get to say whatever he wanted and then walk off when something he didn’t like was said?
Was he not allowed to have a weakness? Even if he needed to be strong for someone else? It was still a need. We all had needs.
I stood up quickly shoving my chair back as I did it. My balance was off somewhat but I ignored that. I had a mission. I was going to tell Stone just that.
The kitchen was my destination and I stalked toward it with determination. Storming inside my expression fierce. Ready to make Stone hear me I had barely gotten inside when I said loudly. “It is human to need something. You are a human. Needing to be needed is ALLOWED!” I finished that with my hands firmly planted on my hips as I managed to focus on Stone.
He was at the sink on the other side of the counter where he had been rinsing off dishes. We stood there. His eyes locked on mine. No one said a word and the time felt as if it was slowly ticking by and Stone was never going to speak. But his gaze held me there. Immobile. Worried I should have just gone to bed and not been so determined to prove a point. The dang wine. One glass would have been plenty.
Just when I began to think we would stand there all night in this staring contest waiting for the other to break, he moved. He walked around the bar and stalked toward me. I didn’t think he was going to hurt me, although the scowl on his face concerned me the closer he got to me.
When I thought he would walk right past me still scowling, he stopped inches from our bodies touching. I inhaled sharply, preparing for whatever hard and possibly cruel things he was about to let loose.
“You’re right. It’s human to need. It’s part of our flaw. Or weakness,” he began. His voice was deep and dark. I shivered but didn’t want to move away. “But that’s not a fucking need. It’s part of my life. A part I accepted a long time ago. I need. Yes. I need something I cannot have. That’s what I need, Beulah. What I need and want is mine are two different things.”
His words were like a riddle but he smelled so nice and the heat from his body was so close I didn’t care at the moment. He could keep speaking in riddles, I would keep listening.
Stone closed even more of the tiny bit of space left between us. “Right now, I need you to go to your room and lock your door.” His tone was threatening, and I shivered again.
He leaned in until his mouth was at my ear. I closed my eyes and took him in. His presence. His strength. His scent. “Go to your motherfucking room. Now.” Although his words weren’t a shout. They were a demand. I pulled back and looked up at him. He closed his eyes tightly. “I have asked little of you, Beulah. Do this one fucking thing for me. Please.”
Those were the words that sent me to my room. The words I couldn’t argue with because he had done so much for me. He had asked for nothing from me. He was always there to save the people around him. So instead of pushing, waiting, or hoping for the unnamed, I backed away until I was far enough from him I could tear my eyes off his almost black ones and walk to my room. As I moved away from Stone, my heart pounded faster, and my need to escape was clear.
The unknown was there nipping at my heels. The threat of something that would break me unlike anything else was too close. I knew I had to flee to save myself.
STONE WASN’T HOME WHEN I woke up. I had listened for him as I got ready for work, but heard nothing. The smell of coffee didn’t linger from the kitchen. When I walked out of my room, I noticed his bedroom door stood open. I didn’t have to look inside to know his room was empty.
I didn’t go to the kitchen or look anywhere else for him, but I did stand at the door and wait in case he was lurking somewhere and decided to show himself. After several silent minutes, I opened the door and left the apartment.
Drinking three glasses of wine had been a terrible idea. I never drank because I was a lightweight. I remembered everything, but I worried that my memory was hindered from the alcohol. Had I offended him, or worse, said something embarrassing? Something embarrassing, like my thoughts out loud. My attraction to Stone wasn’t going to be welcomed by him. It’s possible he’d hate me for it. I only knew of two people in this world he loved unconditionally. Geraldine and Jasper.
I glanced at the closed door on the second floor and thought about how I’d assumed the wrong things about the girls living there. In my head, they were all like Presley. I found it shallow of Stone, and I might have judged him for having women like her surrounding him. I knew differently now.
When I reached the bottom floor, I saw Mack wiping his face with a towel. He was sweaty and dressed in running shorts and a T-shirt that was soaked. A bottle of water sat empty on the floor beside him. Did everyone who lived here run? Was I the only one without an exercise plan?
He looked over at me and frowned, then smiled slowly. “You must be, Beulah. I think I’m the last one to meet you.”
He didn’t remember meeting me. That was either embarrassing for both of us or he was drunk that night and I hadn’t realized.
“Oh,” I said thinking of how to straighten this out. “Um, well, we did meet. The night of the party that Presley threw for Stone.” I wasn’t sure if that was rude or not, but acting like we hadn’t met seemed silly.
He chuckled. “No. I’d remember meeting you. A guy doesn’t forget that face. You met Mack. I’m Marty. Except for the birthmark on my left calf in the shape of a warped looking heart we’re identical. We tried changing our appearance over the years to make ourselves look different, but we outgrew it. No more piercings, weird hair colors, or glasses that aren’t needed. We just accept that we look alike and go with it. But I’m the smarter one. So there’s that.”
Identical. Wow. I studied him a moment and didn’t see anything that differentiated his appearance from his brother. Maybe if I were around them more I would find a distinguishing factor.
The entry door opened and in came Fiona with a to-go coffee in her hands. She was wearing high-heeled boots that came to her knees and a skirt that was barely covered her bottom. She looked like she’d just done a photo shoot for a magazine.
“Good morning, Beulah. Marty,” she said knowing exactly which brother was standing in front of us. She had no problem telling them apart. There must be some trick.
“Morning,” he said less enthusiastically without sparing her more than a glance.
“Good morning,” I replied.
She smirked. “Be careful with him.” Then she headed up the stairs.
I glanced at him and said nothing. I tried to think of a way to end the conversation now that Fiona had just made it awkward.
“She hates me, ignore her,” he said grinning as if that was normal and okay.
“You fucked someone else when we were dating,” she called from the second floor.
My eyes widened in shock. I really wanted out of this conversation.
“We were on a break! Jesus, Fiona. Let it go!”
“I was in Italy you bastard. Our break didn’t mean we could fuck other people!” She then slammed the door and I stood there wishing I hadn’t witnessed their argument.
He sighed. “It was a year ago. I had asked her to marry me. She said she needed space and went to Italy for work. I took it as she was breaking up with me. I got smashed and slept with an ex-girlfriend. But hey, I
was honest with her about it. I told her the truth. She didn’t take it well.”
I nodded. “Obviously.”
He chuckled. “Old news. Anyway, it was nice to meet you. Don’t be a stranger. Shay, Fiona’s sister, hangs out with us often. The door’s always open.”
“Thanks,” I said glancing at the door. “I need to go. I’ll be late for work.”
He was still grinning when he said, “Have a good one.”
“You too,” I replied then hurried out the door and to my car.
Stone’s Rover wasn’t there. I pondered where he’d gone. Was he hiding at Jasper’s pool house again? This time it was from me instead of Presley. I didn’t want to run him out of his home.
It was peaceful here with her gone. My presence in his home shouldn’t keep him from enjoying his peace. If it did, I would find somewhere else to live. I was making good money with Geraldine. I shouldn’t continue living with him anyway. I’d talk to him about it tonight.
The drive to Geraldine’s was short, but my thoughts bounced from Stone and last night, to Jasper at Geraldine’s yesterday, to Heidi and the fact I needed to visit her. This week had been too busy adjusting to it all. I had only called Heidi three times, grabbing time to speak with her while Geraldine napped. During our last telephone call, I’d promised yellow and pink cupcakes on my Sunday visit. I needed to get to the store for the ingredients and attempt to make them in Stone’s kitchen.
I rolled up to the gate and buzzed Geraldine.
“Hello,” came her voice over the speaker.
“It’s Beulah,” I told her.
“Oh good! You must be here with the Chinese food I ordered. You know it’s been three hours. You need to work harder to make your delivery times.” The speaker cut off abruptly and the gate opened.
My morning was going to start off interesting. Maybe when Geraldine came back around I could ask if she wanted to make cupcakes with me and join me for a surprise visit with Heidi later this afternoon. Geraldine needed an outing.