Stone Silence (Sound of Silence Series, Book One)

by Taylor Dean

“I see.”

  “I tried to call you.” I try to keep an accusing tone out of my voice, but I know it’s there.

  “Just noticed you were tryin’ to blow my phone up.”

  I hide a smile at his choice of words. More than anything, I wish he’d smile at me. It would mean the world to me. Just one genuine smile. I long for it. Facial expressions mean so much more than I ever realized.

  He remains serious. “Thought I’d better check on you.”

  “I’m fine.” I’m not fine, but I don’t want him to think I’m helpless. Today, however, I sure feel helpless. And I don’t like the feeling.

  “Don’t look fine.”

  “How do I look?”

  “Defeated.”

  Great, I feel defeated and look defeated. Just great. “Thanks.” It comes out sounding just as sarcastic as I intended it to. “Fate doesn’t seem to want me to leave this place.”

  He’s quiet for at least a full minute before he says, “I don’t either.”

  I can’t hide my shock and find myself speechless. I don’t understand. If he doesn’t want me to leave, why didn’t he answer his phone?

  “Phone was on silent. Sorry ‘bout that,” he says, answering my question without me having to ask.

  It wasn’t on silent when he dropped me off. My ego is a little bruised over the matter. He was so cold and remote this morning. I really don’t know what to think of him.

  Stony adds, “A friend called. Didn’t feel like talking, so I put my phone on silent.”

  That makes sense. So, he wasn’t ignoring me. And now he’s here to make sure I’m okay. I shift on the bench. A glimmer of hope reignites inside of me.

  “Gonna sit there all day?” he asks dryly.

  “I might.”

  “Can I persuade you to do something else?”

  “I was about to call my parents to see if they can wire me some money. I’ll be fine.” Maybe now I don’t seem quite so pathetic as I sit on this bench feeling sorry for myself.

  He clicks his tongue. “Just get in the truck, Spencer.”

  “Why?” I don’t know why I say that, why I’m challenging him when he’s just here to help me.

  “Cuz I want you to.”

  “Why?” I say again.

  “Because I like you.”

  My breath hitches in my throat. I wasn’t expecting that. But I love that answer. That’s a really good answer. “Why?” I ask again.

  “You ask too many questions.”

  “You don’t answer enough questions,” I volley back.

  “You want help or not?”

  “I have a plan. I don’t need help.” I sure hope he calls my bluff on that one.

  “I disagree. I think you need lots of help,” he says.

  “In what way?”

  “In the way a man helps a woman. The kind of help only I can give you,” he says with his eyes so intent on mine, I can physically feel his gaze.

  That’s it, I officially can’t breathe. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Yes you do. We both do.”

  “No, I don’t because you haven’t said it,” I say.

  “Yes . . . I have,” he says slowly and succinctly.

  I think my eyes widen into huge saucers and my entire body goes completely still. I swear my blood is still pumping, but my heart has stopped. “That was real?” I whisper.

  “Yes,” he says, his eyes boring into mine. “Every word.”

  “Oh.” I take a deep breath. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  He splays his hands. “I did.”

  Yes, he did. I just didn’t believe it was real. “I’m a heavy sleeper. I-I thought I was dreaming.”

  He hooks his thumbs in his belt, revealing his Texas upbringing. “Well, that explains a lot.”

  Yes, it explains my behavior, but not his. “I thought you wanted me to leave.”

  “Nope. Thought you wanted to leave.”

  I say nothing because I’m in shock.

  “You comin’?” he says casually. “Or do I have to wait for you to faint so I can carry you away?”

  While I’d love to be in his arms, I decide to go willingly. I stand. “Okay. But first I need to use the restroom.”

  Stupid bottled water. It ruined the moment.

  CHAPTER

  Thirteen

  “I DON’T UNDERSTAND. Why did you let me leave?”

  “Thought it was what you wanted,” Stony reiterates.

  We’re still sitting in the truck, parked at the bus station. I glance at the back of his truck and notice it’s filled with building materials. He really did have errands to do while in Sweetwater.

  “I wanted to get home at first, it’s true. Things have changed now. I missed my interview and there’s not much there for me now, at least until the fall when school starts.” I hesitate, then add, “And I feel like . . . I feel like there could be something here for me.”

  Stony stares out the windshield and then looks me in the eyes. “Think so too.”

  This day is suddenly becoming the best day ever. Turns out, we both wanted the same thing, but neither one of us knew how to say it. No, I take that back. He knew how to say it. But I doubted his words because his body language didn’t match the amazing things I thought I’d heard him say.

  I can only imagine what he thought of me when I showed no visible response to his heartfelt words. No wonder he thought I wanted to leave. I didn’t give him enough signs that I was interested. Somehow, I thought it seemed obvious. That was just me assuming my body language was screaming out my feelings. Men are not mind readers, never have been, never will be. At least, that’s what my mom always says, and it has stuck with me. Lesson learned.

  He lets out a deep breath and runs a hand through his short hair. “I’ve thought this through and I have a proposition for you.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I need a . . . helper.”

  Helper? I haven’t heard that word since kindergarten. He’s so serious and I want to lighten the mood. So, I say, “Is that a thing? I don’t think that’s a thing.”

  One eyebrow tilts upward. “Yes, it’s a thing. Like an . . . assistant.”

  “So, why didn’t you say assistant?” I love teasing him. I love the way his eyes light up with humor even though the rest of him remains stoic. His eyes really do speak for him. Besides, I’m so happy I’m about to explode.

  He starts again. “I need an assistant, for want of a better word.” He turns in his seat, leans close to me and says with his deep voice, “Happy now?”

  I’m really beginning to love his dry sense of humor. I turn and lean forward as well. We meet in the middle. “Yes, I am,” I tell him. I really am, because I know what’s coming next.

  We’re face to face now and his arm lines the back of my seat. His eyes simply wander my face for a moment. My heart beats fast in my chest, almost painfully. Is this what love feels like? Tingly stomach, sweaty palms, dizzy head, grinding teeth, racing pulse, and weak knees. Sounds like I have the flu.

  And yet, I feel good. I’m filled with adrenaline.

  When I work with patients I remind them to be wise when choosing a companion. I teach them to look beyond the physical and develop communication skills with their intended. Find out what their beliefs are, both religiously and politically. Know what they want out of life. Is family important to them? Is work the most important thing? Discover if you have anything in common.

  I see now why all of those things are easy to overlook. Physical attraction is an overwhelming emotion.

  So, if I remove the attraction I’ve been waiting to feel my whole life from the equation, what is it that I like about Stony? The answer comes to me easily and I find that telling. I like his dry sense of humor, I like how respectful he is toward me, I like the way he wants to care for his mother, and I love that he’s building a home that is clearly meant for a family. He has the kind of values I want in a man.

  Of course, I also love that I’m attr
acted to him. Huge bonus.

  Our faces close, Stony continues in a whisper, “I want to finish my house over the summer. Don’t have time to worry about cooking, laundry, housework, and bookkeeping. But I need to eat and keep my business up to date.”

  I love his sweet breath on my face. “Go on.”

  “You need a job for the summer to save money and I need someone to help me out.”

  I see where he’s going with this and my heart pitter-patters in my chest.

  “Would you like the job?” He tilts his head to the side. “It includes room and board.” He seems a little hesitant with those words. I can understand why. We’d be living together. He then names an amount he’s willing to pay me for the summer, and I nearly fall out of my seat. The amount is far above the worth of my labor. It also far exceeds my needs.

  “Are you serious?” It’s the perfect solution. I earn the money I need, he has someone to help him, and we still have time to explore this thing—whatever this thing is—between us.

  When I think about the words he’s said to me by night, my chest heaves with every intake of breath. No one has ever said things like that to me in my life. Yet, it’s hard to combine nighttime Stony with daytime Stony. They’re two very different people. That’s why I thought it was all in my mind. The two men don’t mesh.

  “And what about . . .”

  “Us?” he says. He reaches up and cups my cheek for a few seconds.

  My breath hitches in my throat. He thinks there is an US. “Yes.”

  “That’s the point. Gives us time together. We need that, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” I say again. “But won’t it be awkward with us living in the same small space?”

  “I don’t mind if you don’t. I promise to be a gentleman. Have my word on that. I know you’re a separate hotel room kind of gal.”

  I’m surprised he remembers my rambling on the first day we met. “You remember that?”

  “Hard to forget.”

  I can’t help but laugh. I imagine a delirious woman showing up on your property is very hard to forget.

  Even after what I faced with Finn, I’m not worried about Stony. He’s already proven himself to me and I trust him. “What if we realize we don’t like each other?”

  He shrugs in his usual fashion. “I had help for the summer and you earned a nice paycheck. We go our separate ways and everyone’s happy.”

  I swallow and ask in a whisper, “What if we fall in love?”

  He’s quiet for at least a minute, making me beyond nervous at my blunt question. He lets out his breath very slowly. I see the way his eyes flash before he erases all emotion from his expression, but his jaw clenches, revealing anxiety. “Still promise to be a gentleman.”

  It hits me that he probably doubts his allure in that department. He’s wrong—so very wrong. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t attracted to you. You know that, right?”

  He lowers his head and looks down. I reach out, placing my hand on his chin and gently pushing his head back up. I move my hand to his cheek and his hand covers mine.

  “Thank you for that,” he whispers.

  “I’m a wait for marriage kind of gal. I just wanted you to know that right now. I don’t want you to ever think I’m rejecting you.”

  “I’m good with that.”

  I believe him. He’s not like Finn. He releases my hand and I place it back in my lap, aching to touch him again. “Are we glossing this over? It may not be as easy as we think.”

  “I don’t think it will be complicated—unless we make it that way.”

  I know that’s not strictly true. Emotions often complicate the simplest of situations.

  But I want this. And so I agree.

  “Okay,” I say. “It’s a deal. I’d love to work for you for the summer. Thank you. You’re saving me.” Then I add, “Again.”

  “No, Spencer,” he says. “You’re saving me.”

  Somehow I don’t think he’s talking about the work I’ll be doing for him. We sit there lost in each other’s eyes for a few moments. Presently, we’re not touching in any way and yet I feel like this might be one of the most intimate moments of my life. There are so many things I’d like to say to him in response to his late night comments. But nothing feels real yet, as if everything between us is hiding in a cloak of darkness and it only comes to life in the midnight hour.

  I wonder how this will play out. No matter what, I’m in this now. It’ll either lead to happiness or heartbreak. I hope it’s not the latter.

  “So, we’re doing this?” he asks, his voice still a whisper.

  “Yes,” I answer.

  “I couldn’t think of another way for us to be together. We live too far apart.”

  “This works.” I think he’s going to kiss me or at the very least touch me again and I wait for it to happen with bated breath. The air between us seems heavy with anticipation. His eyes touch every part of me and I think I’m going to melt.

  “One more thing. Sorry about my late night talks. Just easier for me to talk then. I don’t know why.”

  “I don’t mind. Sorry I thought I was dreaming.”

  He nods. Slowly, he backs away, his arm retreating along the back of the seat. Even though nothing more happened, I feel as though I’ve just been touched by Stony in a monumental way.

  The spell is broken when he turns in his seat and starts the engine.

  I take a deep cleansing breath and attempt to slow my racing heart. I hear Stony exhale loudly as well. As we drive, my mind jumps ahead to practical matters.

  I’ll ask Cait to send me some of my things, but it’ll be a few days until she can take care of it. In the meantime, I’m dying for fresh clothing. “I hate to ask this, but would you mind if I borrowed some money to shop for a few things? It can be an advance on my first paycheck.”

  “I’ll give you money to buy the things you need. No borrowing and no advance. I insist. Won’t take no for an answer.”

  I think I’m beginning to fall for this man. Not because he wants to give me money. Because I love how kind he is. “Thank you. I don’t want to stay in these clothes for one more day. I’m ready to burn them.”

  “Figured,” he says.

  I know exactly what he means with that one word answer. As long as he can communicate the important things in life, I’m happy—whether it’s said in broad daylight or the dark of night makes no difference to me. Heartfelt words have been uttered aloud by him and I’m floored by them. I love a man who can express his feelings, even if he stumbles a little or speaks in incomplete sentences. The meaning is still there. There’s a new bond between us, now that I’m confident in his feelings toward me.

  After an hour of shopping, I’m armed with just enough to get by until Cait can send me my things.

  “How about dinner?” Stony asks as we leave Sweetwater. “Nice place in Roby.”

  “Sounds good.” I admit a small part of me wonders how a restaurant survives in teeny Roby. It’s the smallest town I’ve ever seen.

  I’ll need to make a menu and do some grocery shopping tomorrow, so I hope he doesn’t mind another trip into town. I realize I’ve just been hired as basically a maid and cook—and I’m not exactly thrilled with the job. Under different circumstances I would’ve declined. But this job buys me more time with Stony and that’s exactly what I want right now. Clearly, he wants the same thing.

  We pull into the parking lot of the Silver Star Café in Roby. The building is on the older side, but several trucks dot the area, indicating they have steady business. When we walk in the door, a bell rings, alerting the restaurant that they have new patrons. The smell of freshly brewed coffee invades my senses.

  “Hey Stony,” several men yell. Most of them are older and weathered looking; men who clearly spend their time working outdoors. A few of them direct a respectful salute his way and look upon him with admiration.

  Stony waves in their general direction. “Hey.”

  It’s a strange fe
eling to walk into a restaurant and have everyone know your name. I’ve never experienced it, but I could get used to it. The restaurant isn’t fancy, but it’s certainly homey. Country music twangs over the airwaves, creating an informal ambiance. Sam Hunt is singing about taking your time and I realize that’s all I want right now; Stony’s time. Time to get to know him and understand him, time to know if we’re compatible, and time to know if this thing between us is real or not.

  I’ll never forget my ill-fated trip to Austin. It brought Stony into my life, so I can’t regret it.

  The men are sitting at various places around the dining area, staring into hot cups of coffee, and occasionally engaging in lazy conversation. They’re as relaxed as though they’re in their living rooms at home.

  An older lady approaches as we sit at a booth. “Hi there, Stony. How’s life treating you, son?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer. “Well hello,” she says looking at me while directing her question at Stony. “Who’s this?”

  “This is Spencer. She’s working for me.”

  “Pleasure to meet you,” she says. I can see the curiosity in her eyes, but it comes across more like motherly concern than nosiness.

  “Hi,” I say with a smile. “I’m Stony’s new assistant.”

  Stony raises one eyebrow at me and I return it with a sassy look.

  “She’s a pretty one, Stony. Good for you.”

  “Thanks, Carla.”

  “How’s your mama doin’?”

  “She’s well. Still thinks she’s twenty. Does stuff she shouldn’t.”

  “Can’t keep her down. She’s always busy,” Carla agrees.

  “Shay’s with her,” Stony adds.

  “I heard she was back home. Gonna have a little one too. I’ll bet your mama’s excited about that.”

  “Yep, she is.”

  Carla places one hand on her hip. “That man of hers deserves a swift kick in the behind.”

  “Yep. Might do it myself.”

  “I still think Shay and Jace were perfect for each other. Any chance of that happening now?”

  “Remains to be seen.”

  “And what about Mia? Poor thing.”

  Is it my imagination or does Stony’s face pale at the mention of Mia?