Twisting the stem of my wine glass, I focus on that to avoid the handsome man next to me. “I did. A warm chocolate chip cookie, nearly heaven, except sleep might be better.” If only I could.
“You should try sandalwood oil if you have trouble sleeping. They say it can send you into a deep sleep and chase away bad thoughts. My brother’s girlfriend stands by having a dreamcatcher above their daughter’s bed too. Won’t let her sleep without it.”
My brows lift softly. “I’ll try it. Thanks.” I’ve already attempted everything else.
He quickly brushes us past the topic on to new things. “Holden, the guy running the Dizzy Duck Inn, is also a retired athlete,” he notes.
I’m in awe. “What’s with this town? It’s like ‘Welcome to Lake Spark. We have crossing signs for deer, ducks, and hockey players.’”
A deep chuckle roars from the back of his throat. “Something like that. But ever since The Spinners decided to leave Chicago to train with more focus, they settled here in Lake Spark where the owner lives. Naturally, it draws retired players here, and they fall in love with the charm.”
My lips quirk out. “I guess that makes sense.”
“You’ll have to come back to examine all of us in our habitat. That should help with your writing.”
I laugh. “There is that hilarity again.”
“Trust me, when it comes to other things, I’m anything but.” He sips from his beer and realizes what he just said could be taken out of context, and I already did.
“Aw, so you’re serious and dominant when it requires a lack of clothing.” I have no problem saying that as a matter of fact.
He leans in closer to me, and the heat of his presence brings a wave of warmth that flames along my body. “Yes. But you don’t always need to take the clothing off to find satisfaction. I’m sure you write about that too.”
I want to move closer to him, as I have an unexplainable need to touch his cheek with my fingers. Alas, I refrain myself.
“This is probably my cue to escape,” I whisper with an edge in my voice. I’m uneasy, partly because he’s enticing.
“I’m a gentleman, believe it or not, and I respect that move.” He turns to the barman. “You can put her wine on my tab. Then again, this is my place, so no need to have a tab anyway.”
“That’s considerate of you,” I tell him.
“I guess for you, I can be. Other than for my family and you, it seems, I’m a grumpy-as-fuck guy. Stuart at reception normally takes my wrath.”
“Poor kid.” I stand and softly touch his shoulder. “Thanks for today. Even if you were an irritating jerk this morning. You didn’t stay my enemy for long.”
“But I’m not your lover.” He’s referencing our trope talk, except there is a hint underlying.
“Time will tell.” It barely escapes my lips, and again, I awkwardly pop my mouth, as it feels like the hundredth time today that innate honesty has escaped me.
He smirks and chooses not to tease me back. Inside he’s probably fulfilled by his effect on me. “Sweet dreams, Harlow.”
Our eyes hold for a second longer, a rope unwinding between us, with my body easing.
“You too, Stone.”
Walking away, I feel his eyes on me. It flickers an unfamiliar feeling inside of me. I’m not sure why this guy fell into my world.
But it’s hopeful.
Stopping to get one more glimpse of Stone, a twitch hits my lips.
Silly me for thinking I could ignore the facts during this week. They are still there.
I’ll never tell Stone my secret. I have to ignore this unrealistic optimism that maybe Stone Madden will be the one to unravel it.
4
STONE
