Stone groaned and touched his hair. Was it crooked? Of course it wasn’t. If it could move, it would have been in the bottom of the East River by now. “How’d you know?” he asked Poppie. “I was assured it would be my secret and my secret alone unless I took a woman into my shower and let them watch me remove it with shampoo, warm water, and a witch’s brew.”
Poppie chuckled. “I’d know a wig anywhere. Used to help my wife put hers on before cancer took her. You don’t got cancer, do you?”
“Healthy as a horse. Just trying to impress Sophie. She told me on our first date she prefers her men with hair. Said her last guy had nice hair.”
“You ain’t got much competition with that one. Biggest weasel in Manhattan. And a crybaby at that. Should have heard him caterwauling as he hightailed it down them there stairs over there just ‘cause I was shooting rock at him with my slingshot.”
What exactly had Sophie’s last date done to deserve that? Another person he’d have to run a background check on. “I promise to be nothing but a gentleman with your granddaughter.”
“Good. Because you just might be a keeper. Other than those damn clothes you’re wearing. You look like a preschool boy dressed by his nanny to go to the park.”
Stone, not knowing how to respond, turned his attention back to Sophie. “Perhaps your granddaughter will take me shopping and help me buy clothes more suitable for my build.”
“She’ll do you one better than that. She’ll whip you up a few of her famous T-shirts. Girl sells them like hotcakes. They’ve been paying the bills ever since I went and let myself get weaseled out of all my money.”
Stone filed that information away along with the other tidbits Poppie was dropping all over the place. It was as if he wanted Stone to know everything just in case his granddaughter hadn’t planned on sharing the information on her own.
“Did you need anything before we go?” Sophie asked Poppie, her cheeks tinged with pink, but her lips twitching as if she found it hard to get upset with the man.
He pulled a letter out of his shirt pocket. “Got another one of those damn notices again that I have to come back in for a follow-up session. I swear, any day now, men in white jackets are going to show up at my door and take me somewhere you can’t find me.”
Sophie untangled herself from Stone and went to the elderly man. “I’ve told you, that’s not ever going to happen. You’ll see. In another week, those notices will stop and all will be back to normal. We’re a team, you, and I.”
The guy wiped his eyes. “Listen to me, carrying on while you’re trying to go on a proper date.” He turned his walker and aimed it back inside his apartment. “You forget I said anything and go have yourself a good time,” he said, already shuffling away. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Think I’ll fix myself a sandwich and go to bed early.”
Before Sophie or Stone could say goodnight, he’d shut the door.
“Should we stay here?” Stone asked. “I mean, I can go, and you can stay.”
“It’s okay. If I drop my plans now, he’ll worry about interfering with my love life. I’ll check on him when I return.”
They left the building in silence and headed down the street. Stone’s mind flooded with new insights about Sophie, each one igniting his protective instincts in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Yet, he forced himself to clamp down on the rising tide of questions. Fake relationship aside, theirs was a strictly professional association, and he needed to maintain those boundaries.
What had transpired in the foyer of Sophie’s apartment building—those intimate revelations of her life by Poppie—had nothing to do with his contractual duties.
Besides, despite her fondness for fairy tales, Sophie exuded a resilience that suggested she sought understanding, not rescue. And for Stone, offering understanding might unintentionally invite an intimacy that could unravel both the secrets he guarded and the walls he meticulously maintained around his heart.
“Thanks for going along with being my boyfriend,” Sophie said, drawing his attention to her.
“It doesn’t feel right lying to him,” Stone said. “I wish you would have asked me my thoughts before passing me off as your date to your grandfather.”
“My last boyfriend was a catastrophe. Poppie’s fretted about me ever since. He thinks I let my guard down because I was worried about him, and that’s why I made such an unwise choice in men.”
“And is he right?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Anyway, telling him you are my boyfriend gave him peace of mind. He looked at you and saw what I saw.”
“And that is?”
“A decent human being with really bad fashion taste.”
“Wait.” He slowed his steps. “I thought you loved everything about my new clothes.”
She giggled. “I do…just not on you.” More laughter broke free from her lips. The deep belly kind that had her bending over, clutching her sides.
He jerked to a stop. This was the reaction he’d expected the moment she’d opened the door. He’d been duped. “How did you keep from cracking up when you first saw me?”
She straightened and wiped the tears running down her cheeks. “Ziggy sent me a picture.”
