The Stone Brothers: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set)

by Samantha Christy

  That’s not true. I probably would beg. But I’m not quite there yet. No, I’ve got something else in mind.

  I dribble the ball around her driveway, working on my trick shots. I’ve been to Ethan’s gym every day this week practicing for this moment.

  I smile when I hear a car turn into the driveway behind me. And even though she shot me down, I’m pretty sure I see her smile through the windshield of her compact car. I step aside so she can pull into the garage. She exits the car, arms piled high with folders. I run over to help her out before she spills them all over the garage.

  “Hi. Thanks,” she says, willingly letting me take the load from her.

  I nod to the heavy pile of papers in my hands. “How much homework do you give those kids? I thought you’d be one of those cool teachers who doesn’t pile a ton of work on your students.”

  “First off,” she says, scolding me with a hot-teacher look that has me needing to adjust my pants, “Cool teachers do give homework. And second, I’ve been a bit otherwise occupied this week and haven’t had a chance to grade these papers yet.”

  “Otherwise occupied?” I ask, looking down at her with raised brows. “I only occupied you for two nights. Whose ass do I have to kick for occupying the other two?”

  She rolls her eyes at me. “No one’s,” she says, walking towards the door to the house. “Come on, you can put those down in the kitchen.”

  I follow her in, happy to have my foot in the door so to speak. I put her things down and turn around to face her. “Why won’t you go to dinner with me?”

  She sighs, shaking her head. “It’s not a good idea, Chad. Someone could see us. I don’t want to cause a stir. And you’re leaving soon.”

  “You keep saying I’m leaving soon. But why does that mean we can’t be friends?”

  She stares at me. She stares at me hard. Her eyes tell me everything she’s thinking.

  “Shit,” I say, finally realizing the obvious. “I’m not going to do that again, Mal. I promise to stay in touch this time. I’ll even come back. Or you can come see me. Don’t shut me out. Please?”

  Okay, so maybe it is time for begging.

  “I don’t know,” she says, leaning against the counter. “It’s just all so complicated.”

  “It doesn’t have to be,” I tell her.

  She sighs again. She’s going to say no, I can feel it.

  “Let’s play for it,” I say, nodding towards the garage.

  “You want to play HORSE to get me to go to dinner with you? You do realize you never win, don’t you?”

  My lips curve into a devious smile. “I’ve never been this motivated before,” I say. “Plus, I’ve been practicing. And I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all day, so can we hurry this along?”

  Her eyes go wide. “Tonight? You want to do dinner tonight?” She looks over at the pile of papers on the counter. “I can’t, Chad. I have so much to do.”

  “First, it’s Friday. You have all weekend to grade papers. Second, if you really need them graded that badly, I’ll help you.”

  She gives me that scolding hot-teacher look again. Damn, she has to quit doing that. “You’ll grade papers?”

  “It’d be fun,” I say. “I always wanted to be a teacher you know.”

  “Yeah, I know. I know everything about you.” She looks down at the floor, frowning. “Well, I used to.”

  I step up next to her. “You can again, Mal. Just give me a chance.” I nod to the door that leads to the garage. “Come on. Let me try to win that date.”

  She shakes her head. “Not a date,” she says. “Just dinner. If you win.”

  “Game on, Mal.” I take her hand and drag her behind me out to the driveway.

  ~ ~ ~

  Mallory stares at the orange ball as it rolls off the driveway and lays to rest in the bushes. “I can’t believe you won.”

  “Believe it, baby,” I say, smiling from ear to ear. Although if I’m being totally honest, and I hope I am, I’d say she had something to do with it. I look at my watch. “You have exactly one hour to get ready. Now find me a red pen so I can play teacher.”

  For the next sixty minutes, I transform into Chad Stone—school teacher. I have a ball grading dozens of papers that are dated all the way back to Monday. Was she really so distracted by me that she hasn’t been able to do anything since then?

  For a while, I wonder what life would have been like for us if I’d have stayed here and followed that dream. Would we still live in this town? Maybe even in one of these houses? Life would be so simple. So perfectly normal. No. I love what I do. I just don’t always love the crap that comes along with it.

  I hear her heels click on the hardwood as she comes downstairs. I put the papers away, happy that I’ve made a good dent in them for her. When she comes around the corner, my heart stops. “Uh, Mal . . . if you don’t want this to be a date, don’t wear shit like that.”

  My eyes travel the length of her from head to toe. She has another green blouse on, this one darker than the one she wore to Ethan’s. It makes her eyes stand out. But tonight, instead of jeans, she’s wearing a black skirt. A short black skirt. I can see her shapely legs. Legs that beg to be wrapped around a man. And that man better bloody well be me.

  “You didn’t say where we were going, so I hope this will do,” she says.

  I tamp down my boyish fantasies about fourth-grade teachers in sinfully short skirts. “You’re gonna kill me, Ms. Schaffer.”

  Mallory rifles through the papers I graded, smiling as she flips from one to the next.

  “What?” I ask. “Didn’t think a college drop-out could grade a bunch of nine-year-olds’ math problems?”

  She shakes her head laughing. “It’s not that.” She flips one of the papers around and points to the upper corner. “I just didn’t think a big movie star would draw smiley faces on them.”

  “Well, I didn’t have any of those gold star stickers. Do they still use those?”

  “Not so much anymore, we use stamps and, um . . . smiley faces,” she says, rolling those gorgeous emerald-green eyes.

  “Ha! See—I’m so an awesome school teacher. I missed my calling.”

  She straightens the pile of papers and puts them back in a folder. “No, you definitely did not miss your calling.”

  Now I’m the one smiling. “Oh, really? Are you telling me you’ve seen my movies, Ms. Schaffer?”

  “Don’t call me Ms. Schaffer, it’s kind of pervy.”

  I laugh. “Answer the question, Mal.” I walk over and stand in front of her. “Have. You. Seen. My. Movies? Simple question.”

  “Not the new one,” she says, still refusing to outright admit anything.

  “So you have? And what about Malibu? I know you watched season one, but after . . . did you watch the others?”

  She looks anywhere but at me.

  “Come on, Mal.”

  She scrunches her nose, putting a cute-as-hell wrinkle in it. “Okay, fine. I watched them. All seventy-two episodes. Are you happy now?”

  She pouts, heading for the door but I grab her hand and pull her back to me, landing her so close, our faces are only inches apart. I get a good whiff of her incredible scent. God, she even smells like a school teacher—fresh and clean and innocent, yet so damn sexy. “What’s the name of your perfume?”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “It’s called ‘Desire Me’. Why?”

  Of course it is. I repeat it over and over in my head so I don’t forget the name. As if. I’ll need to know it later, for when I send her a gallon of it. “Just curious, that’s all. It’s nice.”

  “Thanks, I like it, too. Are you ready to go? I thought you were starving.”

  I open the door for her and eye her legs as she walks through. “Yes, I absolutely am.”

  We load up in the backseat of the car and I tell Cole where to take us. “The Pizza Garden on 5th, please.”

  He punches it into the GPS as Mallory squeals. Good, I was hoping that was the reaction I’
d get. “Still your favorite place?” I ask.

  “Are you kidding? I think they’ve gotten even better since you lived here.” She squirms happily in her seat. Lucky fucking seat. “Wait until you taste it,” she says. “You’ll go nuts.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Wait. We can’t go there,” she says, looking disappointed. “It’s Friday night. It’ll be packed.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I tell her.

  “Don’t worry?” She looks slightly panicked. “One of us has to, Chad. You shouldn’t be seen out with me.”

  She doesn’t realize what I have planned, but her comment pisses me off anyway. The way she said it was self-deprecating. Like she was somehow worried about what it would look like if I were to be seen with ‘someone like’ her. “Why the hell not?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” she says, holding out her arms and looking down at herself.

  “Jesus, Mallory, would you quit that shit? You are gorgeous and smart and generous, and any man would be honored to be seen with you. You were never self-conscious when we were younger. Why now?”

  “Oh, let’s see,” she says, looking around the car. “Maybe because when we were younger you didn’t have a bodyguard-slash-driver. Or maybe because you weren’t a gazillionaire movie star. Or maybe because you weren’t dating beautiful actresses or hobnobbing with famous athletes. Should I go on?”

  “Gazillionaire?” I mock. “Is that even a word?”

  “Whatever. I mean, come on, Chad. You have to admit, this is all pretty intimidating for someone like me.”

  “It shouldn’t be. You should have everything that I have. You should have it and more. I want to give it to you.”

  She stares at me in the darkness of the back seat. “You can’t say things like that.”

  “I can say whatever the hell I want, Mal. I’ve never censored myself with you and I’m not about to start now. I want to see you. I want to take you on a real date. And at the end of that date, I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you until your knees go weak. I want to kiss you so long and so hard that any other kiss you’ve ever had with another guy will seem inconsequential. I’m not going to hide how I feel, and I’m sure as shit not going to feel badly about it.”

  Mallory is frozen to the seat, speechless. I glance at Cole, who has been witness to the entire conversation. He catches my eyes in the rearview mirror and smiles. Cole doesn’t smile.

  “I—I’m just a little overwhelmed, I guess,” she says, straightening her skirt. “This is all so new to me, Chad. You’ve had years to get used to the money and the fame and this new life that goes with it. You can’t expect me to accept it all in six short days. Can we take a breath, please? Can we have dinner and talk about things like we used to? Can we just be friends tonight before we make any decisions?”

  I get what she’s saying. I do. But once you’ve made a decision about your life, you want to get on with it and start living. “I’ve already made mine,” I tell her. “But yeah, we can just have dinner and talk. Being with you tonight is all I wanted. The rest can wait.”

  She takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. I can see the tension leaving her as we drive through the city. Cole pulls into the alley in the back and knocks on the rear door to the restaurant.

  Mallory looks sideways at me. “Sneaking in the back, are we?”

  “It’s all part of my plan to seduce you,” I tease. “Nothing screams sexy like wading through dumpsters and homeless people to impress your girl.”

  “You’re terrible,” she says, swatting my leg.

  I trap her hand on my thigh and hold it there until Cole opens the door for us. The best part about it is, she lets me.

  “Everything set?” I ask Cole.

  He nods. “Just like you asked.” He escorts us the ten feet from the car to the back door of the restaurant. “I’ll park it and be close by if you need me.”

  “Welcome, Mr. Stone,” says the small Italian man with a heavy accent who greets us at the door. “I’m Mario, the owner of this establishment. Anything you want, just ask. Follow me. I set a good table for you in back. Far from the windows. No one will see.”

  He walks us into the main dining room. It’s dark and quiet, with candles in the center of each table providing just enough light so we don’t trip over anything. He points to a large table in the back corner. It’s set with a red-and-white-checkered tablecloth.

  Mallory takes in the barren dining room, looking from one empty table to the next. She questions me with her eyes as we make our way to the table with the most candles. There is already a bottle of champagne chilling and a glass of her favorite beer on the table. At least I think it’s her favorite. It’s the kind she had at her house when I shared one with her dad. Maybe it’s only her dad’s favorite. Shit—there is so much I need to learn about her. I just hope she’ll let me.

  She thanks Mario for seating us and then turns to me with a hard stare. “Where is everybody?”

  “I didn’t want us to be bothered. Sometimes this is the only way.”

  Her jaw drops. “You rented out the whole restaurant for the night?”

  “Not the whole thing,” I say. “They still do delivery. Don’t worry, the people of New York can still have their favorite pizza tonight.”

  “That must’ve cost you hundreds, or maybe thousands. Chad, you shouldn’t have.”

  I’m not about to tell her it cost me over ten grand. “Don’t worry about it.” I can see she’s about to argue the point, so I add, “I didn’t do it to impress you, Mallory. I did it for me. I just wanted one night where I could go out and feel normal. Go to a regular place like everyone else and enjoy dinner like everyone else does, without cameras going off every ten seconds. Without having to pretend I don’t mind being interrupted twenty times when I’m trying to eat. Without having to worry about every goddamn facial expression and mannerism because they could end up plastered all over TMZ. This was our place, Mal. I wanted to bring you here for a normal dinner. Please don’t make me feel bad about it.”

  She closes her eyes and takes a breath. Then she looks at me with a sad smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about what it must be like for you to have a night out. Of course you should be allowed to go to your favorite places without being mobbed. I don’t know how you do it.” She looks around the old familiar place we used to come to on special occasions. “Thank you for bringing me here. It looks the same, but somehow different.”

  My eyes don’t leave her face. “I completely agree.”

  She takes a drink of her beer, smiling at the taste. “You got my favorite,” she says. Then she nods at my glass of ice water. “You’re not drinking? Does it bother you that I am? I don’t have to.”

  “It doesn’t bother me at all, Mal. I want you to enjoy yourself.” I point to the ice bucket next to the table. “I’m saving myself for the good stuff.”

  She laughs. “Pizza and champagne. Now I know I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  That laugh. This girl. I’m the one who’s in fucking heaven.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mallory

  He watches me take another drink, almost like he’s jealous of the glass. “Wait a second,” he says. “You said this place looks the same but different. I thought you said you’d been here since we were kids. In the car, you said the pizza is even better now.”

  I shake my head. I haven’t stepped foot in this place since he left. It didn’t seem right. It was our place. “I haven’t been inside since we were kids. But my friend, Melissa, lives a few blocks over and sometimes we get takeout when I crash there.”

  My phone rings. Darn, I forgot to shut off the ringer. “Sorry,” I say, switching the sound off. I notice Julian is trying to call me. So not a good time.

  A waitress arrives, putting a hot loaf of sliced cheese bread on the table. She fumbles with it, almost spilling it in my lap, obviously nervous about serving the famous Thad Stone. “You really can’t get away from it, c
an you?” I ask after she leaves the table.

  He shrugs. “Sometimes I put on a ball cap and glasses and go out and walk the streets, just to feel anonymous for a little while.”

  I shake my head at the thought of it. “You have to disguise yourself just to take a walk? I have to ask, is it worth it? Is making movies worth all the lost freedom? I mean, you have enough money without it, so why do it if you don’t like all the attention?”

  “Why did you do it?” he asks me. “Why did you act in all those plays in middle school and high school?”

  I think about his question as I pick at a piece of bread. “I don’t know, I guess because I liked pretending to be something I wasn’t. Because I liked making other people happy when they watched me. And maybe because I thought I was good at it.”

  He nods. “You were great at it, Mal. And that’s why I do it—for all those reasons and more. It’s the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. It’s something I can be proud of. I’d do it even if they didn’t pay me for it.”

  My phone starts vibrating across the table. Chad motions to it. “Someone really wants to get a hold of you. You should answer it.”

  “Okay. I’ll make it quick.” I pick up my phone and look at the screen. Darn, it’s Julian again. I shoot a guilty glance at Chad before I answer it. “Hey.”

  “Hey to you, too,” Julian says. “What’s up?”

  “Not much. Just getting a bite to eat.” I peek at Chad who is munching on a piece of bread.

  “Having anything interesting? Or anyone?” He laughs.

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat. This is not the time to tell him I’m out with Chad. “Uh, no, it’s just me.” I hate lying to him. But I don’t have time for him to give me a lecture.

  “Want to meet up tonight? There’s a band I’ve been wanting to see that will be playing at Gringo’s later.”

  “I can’t. I have to grade papers.” I look anywhere but at Chad. He’s stopped eating and I can feel his eyes burning into me.