Stone: At Your Service (Carolina Bad Boys #1)

by Rie Warren

  Amen to that.

  Unfortunately, I was in trouble almost as soon as we entered the house. Small and energetic as a hummingbird, Leelee’s mom Patsy bounced from hugging her daughter to holding both my hands, pumping them up and down.

  Her dad, on the other hand, looked like a woolly mammoth, staring me down with arms crossed over a barrel-sized chest. At some point Brian Childes’s hair must’ve been nearly the same color as Leelee’s, but now the wild beard and thick curls were steely grey shot through with what was left of rust-colored red. His moustache didn’t even twitch when he shook my hand.

  “Mr. Childes, Mrs. Childes, pleasure to meet y’all.”

  “Oh, Leelee, you were right. What a lovely baritone he has.” Patsy linked her arm through Brian’s and petted his bicep. Only then did the stoniness of his face thaw, and only when he looked down at her. “She said you’re a wonderful singer, Josh.”

  I was not breaking out the show tunes for them when Leelee’s father looked like he wanted nothing more than to break my legs.

  “Dad.” Leelee left my side and gave the forbidding man a hug. His features softened a second time.

  “You’re looking a hell of a lot better than you did when you left here, sweetie.” He touched the back of her head with his big paw.

  “Well, you can thank Josh for that, and JJ of course.”

  “Hmm. Are you sayin’ I should cut the boy some slack?” The fact he’d called me boy let me know he had no intentions of cutting me any slack at all.

  “That’s enough now, Mr. Childes. It’s the Lord’s Day, Leelee’s home and happy, and we finally get to meet the mysterious Josh Stone.” Patsy pinched his arm lightly. “Now be polite, like I finally taught you after thirty years.”

  “Woman.” His voice was gruff with warning, his face sterner than ever, but a hint of playfulness showed in his eyes.

  Maybe the old man isn’t gonna take me out back and skin me alive after all, at least not before we eat.

  We made it through brunch with me still in one piece. It wasn’t too awkward once we got rolling. Patsy drew everyone into conversation the way Ma would have, and both she and Leelee paid careful consideration to me. Brian did too, but with a hostile look in his eyes.

  I tried to help Leelee’s mom in the kitchen after we ate—anything for a stay of execution—but she told me she didn’t want menfolk messing up her domain. Fair enough. I slunk out when Leelee’s dad entered the room, rubbing his hands together and reaching for Patsy. I overheard their conversation.

  “You lay off that boy, now, Bri. He’s done a good thing, bringing our Leelee back, and bringing her back to herself.”

  He harrumphed.

  She twined her fingers behind his neck. “If you play nice you get pie later.”

  A huge grin finally broke through the old dude’s bark and bite. “I like pie,” he drawled, grabbing a piece of Patsy’s ass.

  I had a feeling they weren’t talking about the apple pie set out on the cake stand in the middle of the table.

  I’d barely managed to sneak back to Leelee in the living room when her dad beckoned me. “C’mon then, Josh.”

  Time to duke it out already? My food hadn’t even settled yet. I stood and followed him into the garage, or to the gallows, as it were.

  His grin turned dark. “Just us men now, huh?”

  I gulped and said a prayer. At least we were in familiar territory. I looked at the covered bulk of a car sitting center stage on the cement floor. “What’re you working on?”

  He swept the cover off with all the flair of a man about to show off his pride and joy. “Pontiac GTO.”

  “’67, right?” I admired the dark maroon hardtop he’d revealed.

  He nodded once, pulled the lever under the dash, and popped the hood. “Come have a look.”

  “She’s a beaut.” Glancing at the woodgrain vinyl dashboard, taking in the chain-link grille on the Pontiac’s nose, I joined him under the hood. We inspected the shiny V8 engine that would growl like a lion. “Something to be proud of.”

  “I’m just finishing the fine tuning now. After that, I’ll be working on the interior. I’m gonna take her back to her former youth.” He winked at me and I began to breathe easier.

  Lowering the hood, he left the GTO uncovered and we continued to appreciate the lean mean lines of her. He looked out the open garage door to my Camaro. “Did you restore that one?”

  “From scrap to what you see now.”

  Resting against the trunk, he scratched along the steel wool beard on his chin. “I’ve gotta admit, I’ve got a hankerin’ for that model. Did you and Leelee have a nice trip out here?”

  It probably wasn’t a good time to tell him what I did with his one and only daughter on top of the car last night. I swallowed that thought right quick. “Yeah, we did and we needed it. I know this all seems real fast, sir, but it’s the real thing. I’m the real deal.” Jesus, I sounded like an eighteen-year-old idiot come to pick up his daughter for the prom.

  “I hope you don’t think just because we share a love of cars I’m gonna go real easy on you?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” I leaned against a workbench. “Just like I wouldn’t dream of letting any harm come to Leelee through me or anyone else.”

  Spreading his thumb and forefinger over his moustache, he smoothed it down, all the while scrutinizing me. He suddenly asked, “Is it after noon yet?”

  I glanced at my watch. “Twelve-twenty, sir.”

  He stealthily closed the door between the kitchen and the garage, stepped over to the icebox, and nodded at me. “Time for a beer.”

  He took one, handed me another, and sat on a stool, pushing its neighbor out for me. After a long guzzle, he wiped his mouth. “You go to church?”

  I got the picture. I was in for a Q/A session with Pops. I could do this—I’d handled Jules, for chrissakes.

  “Once a month.” I sipped from my beer, figuring it wouldn’t do to act like I wanted to down an entire six-pack.

  “Do you run around?”

  “I used to, I’m not gonna lie. But I was responsible, never did anything in front of my son, never intentionally hurt anyone.” I twisted the beer bottle between my hands, its condensation mixing with the sweat on my palms. “I’d for damn sure never cheat on Leelee, sir.”

  “Ever cheat on your ex?” The grilling continued.

  “No, sir. She left me because . . . well, we never had a good relationship and, after JJ was born, shit went to hell in a handbasket. She suffered from postpartum depression, and I don’t think she was cut out for motherhood. And we definitely weren’t made for each other.”

  He placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “That had to have been tough.”

  “Yeah, and no. The hardest part is watching JJ try to figure out how his momma could leave him.” I shrugged. “I think we’ve been a better family without Claire. I never thought we needed more until I met Leelee. She’s one helluva woman, Mr. Childes.”

  “Intentions?” He cut to the heart of the matter.

  “That depends on whether you’ve got a shotgun stashed around here somewhere.”

  He clinked his bottle against mine. “Good answer, and I do.”

  Setting my beer on the workbench, I looked him square in the eyes. “Sir, I expect you to make my life a living hell if I mistreat your daughter. I want you to know that isn’t ever going to happen. I’ve fought for her. I’ve thought of no other woman but her. She’s inside my heart.”

  “She deserves to be treasured, not treated the way that twiggy piece of shit Patrick did.”

  “If he’s still in town, I wouldn’t mind paying him a visit.” My jaw hardened.

  The hand resting on my shoulder tightened as anger flashed across Brian’s face. “Only if you bring me with you.”

  Another beer later, I laid down my cards. “I want to ask Leelee to marry me, sir, with your blessing.”

  “All I want is her happiness. You know how that is.”

&
nbsp; “I can do that. I’d be honored to do that.”

  He squinted at me for a long time while I sat perfectly still. “I bet you can.” He nodded, the matter settled.

  Leelee found us like that, drinking beer, talking shop. She took one look at the empties and rolled her eyes. “It’s not even five yet, Dad.”

  He pointed at the Frigidaire—one of the old ones, baby blue, chrome handle—and she grabbed one herself before calling through the door, “They’re out here gettin’ plastered, Mom.”

  The Queen Bee, the hummingbird, entered, taking a seat on Brian’s lap. “Where’s mine?”

  Everyone gave cheers and thanks. Leelee stood beside me with her arm draped around me. We talked about our trip and the weather, the upcoming college football season . . . Basically nothing at all but with the all-important feelings of belonging and acceptance.

  Then Leelee’s dad blindsided me. “Do you wrap it?”

  I choked on my beer.

  “Dad!” Mortified, Leelee flushed to her hairline. Not a bad look on her.

  I settled a hand on her hip, stopping her from baring her claws at Brian. “It’s okay, babe.” I answered her father, “We’re both clean and monogamous, so no, I don’t.”

  “I’m on the pill, Dad, Jesus.” Leelee moved into the shelter of my arms.

  Patsy pounced. “Got that out of your system, Bri? Leave the kids alone, they’re happy.”

  “Yes’m.” Just like that, she brought him to heel.

  ****

  A few weeks later, we were completely settled at home in Mt. Pleasant. We’d pushed it on the return trip, eager to get back to the kid and start our life together. The Stone family is everyone’s family. And now I had my own.

  As well as a motherfucking cat. I’d had to listen to Mews mewl all the way across four states. Now the calico furball was being tortured by the kid as he ran off his sugar buzz from the strawberry shortcake Leelee had made for dessert.

  She and I sat on the back porch watching JJ playing in the grass below. Evening dipped down, painting the sky in colors that reminded me of her dresses. She wore one of them tonight. A sundress with little straps, and she was barefoot, which I really liked since it meant she couldn’t run away. Yeah, I was a barbarian where she was concerned. She hadn’t complained yet.

  “Why’s it called Mews, Weewee?” The kid asked, the furry bundle squished in his arms.

  I snorted. Weewee still cracked me up.

  “It was a little joke; Mews, because that’s the sound a cat makes, for Muse, m-u-s-e, like a writing muse.” Leelee stroked her fingers through his hair.

  “I don’t get it.” His brows knitted together.

  “No worries, kid. Me either, Leelee’s got the brains of the family.” I heard her sharp intake of breath and looked over. I hadn’t even realized what I’d said. It just came naturally—her being part of the family. I put my hand on the nape of her neck, playing my fingers up and down, smiling at her reaction.

  JJ scampered away, holding the cat over his shoulder before placing it on the grass to cajole it toward him with promises of dog biscuits and ice cream. He acted like Mews was a trainable canine—maybe I should’ve bought a leash from The Gee Spot after all.

  “Hey, kid! Remember what I told you about letting animals lick your face, right?”

  He flapped his hands in my direction, the only indication he might’ve heard my warning. With him occupied with cat-agility lessons or whatever he was attempting with the hula-hoop, I turned to Leelee.

  “Got somethin’ to show you.”

  She cut her eyes to me. “I just bet you do. I think you showed it to me this morning.”

  Arousal, swift and immediate, pounded through me. “Not my cock, babe, not this time.” I pulled on her hand until she left her chair and slid onto my lap. “I’ll give you a hint, it rhymes with cat.”

  I laid my lips against her neck with firm, moist kisses up to the corner of her mouth. “Gonna guess?”

  “You didn’t, Josh.” Her fingertips hovered over my shirt.

  I winked at her, a grin forming. Taking the hem in both hands, I peeled the shirt over my head. My biceps, pecs, shoulders flexed for her, showing off the new design I’d had finalized earlier on my original tattoo, extending it even further.

  Her eyes enormous, she gasped. “You did, you’re gettin’ . . .”

  “You can touch it.” Oh yeah, she can.

  Cautiously, she slipped her fingertips across the tat, stroking first around Joshua James December 13 2009 before following the circumference of the heart to the stenciled addition of her name. Beautiful calligraphy sat inside the top chrome pipe: Leelee Songchild. From there her fingers skimmed to my shoulder where a dense, sometimes delicate design of vines and chrome as well as a few songbirds intertwined as I’d imagined for Songchild.

  When she stayed silent, I said, “It’s not done yet. I want a sleeve down to my elbow at least, eventually. But I needed to get your name on me. Whaddya think? Wanna come to the studio with me tomorrow and watch them fill it in?”

  “Yes.” Lips—soft and slow—replaced her fingers. Gentle, worshipping, she moved to my mouth. Her tongue coiling inside, seeking and finding mine, she moaned when I grabbed her hips to twist her to me.

  Breaking away, she whispered, “It’ll be breathtaking, Josh. I love you so much. So much. I feel like I can never get enough of you.” So close our lips still touched when she spoke, the heat in her eyes changed.

  “Turns you on, huh?”

  When she breathed against my lips—”Yeah”—and dipped in again, I decided it was JJ’s bedtime.

  We got him sorted out, read to, sung to, and snuggled with together. I kissed him and stepped back to let Leelee do the same. We moved toward the door and I switched on his nightlight.

  He watched us with eyes growing heavy. “Weewee?”

  “Yeah, JJ?”

  “I wuv you and your pwincess hair.”

  She squeezed my hand and I squeezed back. I figured she had a lump in her throat similar to mine when it took her a moment to reply. “I love you too, sweet boy. Goodnight.”

  “’Night, Weewee, ’night, Daddy.”

  She acted like she wanted to linger a while longer, but I tugged her away. “Don’t even think about it. If you make eye contact with him, you’ll never get out of here. I know how he operates. And you’re all mine after dark.”

  Leelee giggled, allowing herself to be led back outside. I brought a glass of wine out for her, a beer for me, and beckoned her to sit in front of me on the lounger, between my spread legs, her back to my chest.

  “I know why you wear the wigs, Leelee.”

  She turned, and I framed her face in one hand. “You figured it out. My shield, huh? Pretty lame, I guess.”

  “You never put up a front with me.”

  “I tried to . . . I should have . . .” Her voice faltered. “I’m so glad I didn’t, Josh.”

  Wrapping my arms around her, I rocked her a bit. “I’ll be your shield, babe, you know that.” Her head rested back and I smoothed her hair, the gorgeous, unforgettable hair down her back. “Why though? Why hide all of this?”

  “Being a redhead was horrible. Before you, I used to wear it up all the time. I was teased a lot when I was a teenager—freckled, gangly, ginger hair—the girls weren’t nice.”

  I burst out laughing and she turned to take a swipe at me. “What?”

  “Hate to break it you, babe. But those girls, teenage bitches makin’ fun of your hair? It’s because they were shit-jealous of you.” And I was jealous of all those teen boys who probably choked on their tongues every time they saw her.

  Her face brightened when she saw things my way. “So you like my hair?” Leelee lifted the whole mass of curls and red in both hands before letting it tumble down.

  “Fucking love your hair.” I buried my nose in that fine, red-gold sheaf. “And don’t think your ma didn’t break out the high school yearbooks when I was there. Goddamn gorgeous then, even more
so now.”

  She put her wineglass down and straddled my lap. “And I know what you really think about my wigs, Stone.”

  “Do you?”

  “Secretary, starlet, or naughty nurse?” With her lips close to my ear, her husky words sent a shot of thick arousal straight to my groin.

  What about a triple header? My cock about exploded in my jeans but despite my one-track mind, I declined. “Not tonight. I’ve got something else in mind.”

  Surprise widened her eyes as she leaned away from me.

  “But I’ll definitely take a rain check. Here, lift up a sec? I got somethin’ else to show you.”

  “Didn’t you just say not tonight?” She gave a teasing laugh, rising off my hips so I could dig a hand into my pocket.

  Pulling out a box, I presented it to her. It was small, square, and gold leather, its meaning unmistakable. My heart thudded to a faster beat as I watched a world of emotions cross her face: shock, bashfulness that heated her cheeks to the prettiest pink, and hope when she lifted her eyes to mine and tears shined there.

  Fingers trembling, she lifted the lid, revealing the ring. I plucked it from its white velvet bed, and the tears on the edges of her lashes glistened as they traced down her cheeks.

  I tried to find my voice but it was rusty because hope and want and love threatened to consume me. “I know it’s early days, Leelee, but I’m old-fashioned when it comes to you. You don’t have to say anything right away, or even wear it, but I need you to know how much I love you.” I caressed her face, taking the tears away on my fingertips. “I would be the happiest man, the most honored if you’d be my wife.”

  My face turned hard with emotion I tried to contain. The ring shook between my fingers—nothing too fancy or flashy but a nice-sized diamond set within a circlet of emeralds.

  With her hands on my cheeks, Leelee pulled me into her kiss. A kiss so intense and deep, it felt as though she poured her entire heart into my soul. “Yes. I want it, I want you. I love you,” she whispered.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched her hard.