He snapped out of his thoughts, realizing his emotions were probably written all over his face. He and his siblings were sitting around the kitchen table at Ryder’s place, while Clarabelle stood at the stove stirring something that smelled delicious.
“I’m just hoping the spell you cast over me to keep my magic from glitching holds. I’m back on fluff duty starting tomorrow.”
“I was assured it would do the trick,” Clarabelle said. “Unless—”
A knock at the door interrupted her sentence.
“Did you invite someone else?” Clarabelle asked Ryder. “Should I set another place?”
The question reminded Stone of the meet cute scene inAnyone But The Billionaire. A memory that made him smile. He’d thoroughly enjoyed that book, not just because of the story, but because it was something he and Sophie had shared.
“No way. Family time is sacred time,” Ryder said exiting the room to answer the door. When he returned, he wasn’t smiling. “We’ve got a case. Another complicated one.”
“I’ll put Sophie on hold and join you,” Stone said, instinctively ready to jump back into action.
“Nonsense,” Clarabelle snapped. “You’ve given Ms. Birdie your word you’d finish what you started.”
“But—”
“Honorandbutdon’t go together.” Clarabelle removed her apron. “You’re either a man with honor, or you’re a butt. You can’t be both. Does Sophie deserve your best or your ass?”
Stone straightened, feeling a pang of guilt. He should have had dinner with Sophie and tried to explain why continuing their book chats wasn’t in either of their best interests. That would have been giving her his best. “She deserves all the best parts of me.”
When he realized everyone was staring at him like he had two heads, he realized he’d worded his answer a little too honestly.
“It’s not like that,” Stone protested, though his heart told a different story.
“If you say so, dear,” Clarabelle said, patting him on the cheek.
Chapter 13
Sophie adjusted her camera strap as she stepped onto the subway, scanning for open seats, Stone trailing behind her. They’d not texted since the night he’d abruptly dumped her.
Well, to be fair to him, his dumping had obviously been a result of her triggering his she’s-falling-for-me radar with her request they meet for dinner. He’d bailed to save them both from the embarrassment of her giving a guy—who’d been nothing but blunt about his commitment issues—her heart. Perhaps, someday, she’d buy him a drink for doing that.
Since then, Sophie’s second and third columns had been published. The second had featured the single-dad book boyfriend trope. The thirty-something she’d decided to interview was the father of a precocious six-year-old boy. He’d turned out to be the perfect book-boyfriend twin to the hero in J. J. Knight’s bookSingle Dad.
The third column had been a nod to Sara L Hudson’s hero in her novelAnyone But The Billionaire. Sophie’s choice to feature for this boyfriend trope had been a billionaire who was the spitting image of how the author had described the hero, Chase,in the book. And his rise to billionaire status had been a hoot to write about.
Part of Sophie still wanted to get herself a hairless cat.
Now, with so much time having passed, the mood between her and Stone since he’d met her at the subway station could only be described as awkward. All the momentum they’d built up with their week of getting to know one another and their texting down the drain.
Still, it was a lovely day and Sophie was determined not to let anything spoil their first official outing as an interview couple. Yes, the fake boyfriend thing was still a go. As such, she’d been chatting Stone up. Or at least trying to, so they could pull off the illusion they were a thing during the interview. Not that he was helping.
In the fifteen minutes they’d waited for the train, he’d kept all his responses to one syllable or grunts.
Now, spotting two seats together, she made her way to them.
Stone surprised her by sitting, his broad shoulders taking up more than his fair share of space. She couldn’t help but wonder what he’d been up to in the last couple of months other than rehabbing his injured finger, which no longer had a bandage.
Of course, she’d asked, and he’d replied, “Work.”
When she had asked how his tactical twitch was doing, he’d uttered, “Fine.”
Thus, when he’d asked, “Where are we going?” she’d replied, “You’ll see.”
It was as if he blamed her for something.
