Twelve
TINY
Imake a memorable entrance just as I feared I would.
Slipping and falling straight to the floor.
I polished the wood floors two days ago with the wrong cleaning product making the floors slippery as an oil slick. That's why Bottle is slipping all over the place, and that's exactly why I too fall straight on my ass.
Landing right on my tailbone, I feel a sharp pain that shoots up my spine and makes me want to burst out in tears. Not just because of the pain of the fall, but because it's simply icing on the cake of a shitty day.
"Shit!" I exclaim.
When I look up from the ground, I realize that I've fallen down in front of the most spectacular man I've ever seen in my life.
Stone looks like every bad boy fantasy I've ever had since I was fourteen years old. Even dressed in a burgundy colored hoodie that looks like it's two sizes too small for his sinewy body–he looks delicious. Delicious in the most imperfect way you can imagine.
Slightly bowed but muscular legs.
A strong but crooked jaw.
Crooked nose.
Piercing gray eyes.
Upon first sight, it seems that most parts of him are covered in rough edges, scars, and hard lines, yet my gut tells me that there's something much softer inside. Something deep buried underneath a lot of coarse layers. A vulnerability that he's probably never revealed to anyone. I don't know exactly how I know that. I just know that I do.
"Hey," he says with a basically unreadable expression. "You all right?"
He shoves one of his sleeves up and then offers me his hand. I've never seen a sexier forearm in my life. Muscular and strong and covered in ink and prominent veins fighting for their place under his skin.
"Hi." Is my simple response. Doing my best to close my mouth as I accept his help off the floor.
"Not sure if you remember, Stone, but baby girl can be a little accident prone."
"Dad–"
"But she's a great cook. That more than makes up for it."
It's a simple thing, but it doesn't escape me how he doesn't have to exert an ounce of energy to pull me off of the floor. He just does it with virtual ease.
"So how was the ride down?" I ask Stone as I wait patiently for some of my dignity to reemerge.
"Uneventful," Stone answers and he looks as if it pained him to utter even that single word. I'm thinking that small talk is not his thing.
"Hey, I'm starving!" My dad interjects. Coughing only seconds later. "How about you go wash your hands and get ready for the chicken soup, Stone. Smells damn good doesn't it. She makes it with wild rice instead of noodles just like Jo used to make. It's going to fix me right up."
Stone gives my father a quiet nod in agreement, then he turns his head around as if he's looking for something.
"The restroom is upstairs right next to Ariana's room," my father says. Making an educated guess at what Stone was looking for. Beats me how he figured that out. I have zero idea what's going on behind those piercing cold eyes of his and that flat affect.
Yeah, he's going to kill us in our sleep.
"Go show Stone where it is, baby girl, and I'll keep an eye on the pot."
"Just don't eat it yet," I warn my father. "There's a way I like to serve it."
"Then make sure you hurry up." He chuckles. "Mmm, it smells almost as good as your mom's. Can't wait to taste it."
