Belinda Blake and the Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
Page 20
* * * *
Stone showed up early. He was fresh-shaven and had gotten a haircut, which served to highlight his angled cheekbones. He looked about as Greenwich as they came, wearing a blue-checked poplin shirt and white pants. I felt underdressed in my jeans and my red blouse, but Stone couldn’t seem to look away from me, so I guessed I’d chosen the right outfit for the evening.
We laid out the food from Lani, both of us exclaiming over the variety of it. She’d included a radish and corn salad, flank steak with shallot mustard sauce, homemade fries, and individual salted caramel chocolate tarts.
“It’s like she knows both of us so well,” I said.
He set another plate on the table. “She prides herself in reading people quickly—figuring out their food likes and dislikes.”
“Which explains why she made steak—she knew you weren’t about to go vegetarian.” I laughed.
As we sat down with our salad, Stone got serious. “Listen, while I was in Bhutan, I did manage to do what I’d hoped to, which was to evaluate the direction my life was heading.”
I chewed in silence, giving him a reassuring nod.
“The thing is…I’ve only had one relationship in my life that’s felt really stable and encouraging. And that relationship is with you, Belinda.”
I coughed, nearly choking on a piece of corn.
Relationship? He called this a relationship? We’d barely even dated.
“Are you serious?” I managed to ask.
He looked hurt. “Yes, definitely. I know it’s not a clearly defined relationship—things basically went nuts before Christmas, but when I was with you, I had the most fun I’ve ever had. You’re exciting and unpredictable, and…you make me happy. I found myself thinking about you every day I was gone—your curls, your gorgeous eyes, and—”
He slid his chair closer. His hand lowered onto the table, and his long fingers closed around mine. It was only when he leaned down, his eyes closed, that I realized he was going to kiss me.
I had initiated a kiss with Stone once, on the beach, and that time it was like something had basically possessed my senses and drawn me to him like a magnet. But at this moment, I found myself pulling back, my free hand shooting toward his chest to stop him.
He blinked and froze, as if he’d been smacked. His hopeful eyes searched mine, waiting.
He was waiting for an answer I couldn’t give him.
My heart was tangled up with someone else. I couldn’t extricate my mind from what Jonas was doing right now—probably sitting by his mother’s hospital bedside, or maybe picking his brother up from the airport.
“I…can’t,” I said.
Stone’s jaw flexed. “It’s okay.” He let go of my hand. “Really, it’s totally okay.”
“But you don’t understand—” I began.
He jumped to his feet. “Let’s eat our dessert and pretend this didn’t happen, okay?”
When he said that, I knew. Just like Daisy Buchanan, I’d made my choice, and I didn’t think Stone would be anywhere near as loyal and unrelenting as Gatsby was.
I’d barely escaped being murdered by a psychopath, but now I felt like I had stepped into the middle of my own perfect storm.
What was a girl to do?