“Fine. Good.” Rome tosses a tenderloin into the vacant freezer and moves to the wrapped brisket. “I think it’s been helpful for him to unleash his buried emotions.”
Rome doesn’t have to elaborate. Stone’s kept his feelings about his mother on such lockdown, the only thing stopping mefrom wondering how he hasn’t exploded is the fact that he can deal with a lot of his anger and distress through physical labor and sex.
Lots of sex.
“You help, too,” Rome says.
I blush as if he read my thoughts. “Huh?”
Rome straightens after throwing the last of the loins in. His eyes crinkle with amusement. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the change in him over this month. He started off snarly and prissy but came to work this week willing tofinallylisten to instructions and with a pep in his step. If he keeps it up, I might even let him play with the big boy power tools.”
“Oh, that has nothing to do with me.” I laugh uncomfortably.
Rome gives me a careful study. “Why do I feel like I’m flashing back twelve years to when you two were first getting together?”
“We’re not together.” I say it a little too defensively. “We’re just …”
Rome raises his hands in surrender. “That may well be, but whatever you’re doing, keep it up. It’s helping him, and knowing you the way I do, that’s helpingyou.”
Not being one for heart-to-hearts, Rome ends the conversation by spinning on his cowboy boots and clomping back inside. I doubt he’ll take them off throughout dinner. He doesn’t seem like a walk-around-in-socks kind of man.
Shaking my head in bemusement, I follow him, shutting the door and joining the small party in the living room.
I notice our new guest instantly, as he stands out more than Rome. Some people are born to wear a suit, and this guy’s one of them. Dressed in an expensive, tailored charcoal suit, with professionally styled golden-blond hair and eyes the color of brushed copper, he stands almost as tall as Stone and Rome,dwarfing all the females except for Carly who matches his height with her three-inch heels.
“You must be Mr. Golde,” I say, drawing closer with my hand held out.
He takes it, his hand warm, dry, and firm. “Aaron, please. And you must be the famous Noa.”
I tilt my head in confusion. “Famous? I don’t think so.”
“From what Stone tells me?—”
“Aaron.” Stone appears beside me, unclasping our handshake by pulling my arm back by the wrist. Gentle, but possessive and firm.
That stupid move of his.I squint at him in warning. “What have you told Aaron about me?”
“Nothing, and that’s the point. Noa is invisible to the public eye, isn’t she, Aar?”
His protectiveness is a pleasant surprise at the same time his calling meinvisibleis jarring. Aaron doesn’t give me any more time to process.
He placates Stone by saying, “Of course. Noa isn’t known to anyone but me. I only meant to say it’s a pleasure to meet Stone’s high school sweetheart, the one who got away. He talks about you with a certain wistfulness, a joie de vivre, I should say…”
“All right.” Stone grunts, turning me away by the shoulders. “That’s enough.”
Aaron laughs behind us. That short exchange gave me enough intel to understand the rare closeness Stone has with Aaron and that Aaron means nothing by it.
And that I’m disappointed he’s not serious is something to be cast aside, too.
I should be glad Stone has someone he can trust that much.
Stone leans close to my ear as we walk. “Everything okay with you?”
His breath tickles the small hairs around my temple. Quick and pleasurable. “Absolutely. I’m going to make sure everything’s ready in the kitchen. Why don’t you go check on your mom, see if she wants to come down and join us at the table?”
Stone nods, his hand straying up my back and squeezing the nape of my neck before releasing.
Fast and pleasing.
