Don’t you want to meet again? Our trails are bound to cross.
-Stone
* * *
Stone,
Sometimes what we want isn’t what we need. Besides, I’m traveling for the next few weeks. Marketing has me at a few signings, ending in Seattle.
Hope your writing came back in a tsunami.
-Harlow
I don’t hearfrom him again. Not for a few days and not even a week or two. Time passes. I assume his impatience must have eventually worn out. Waiting can wear people down. Waiting for nothing is a deeper wound.
* * *
Fortunately,my mind could be occupied. The publisher kept me busy with meetings, signings, pictures for social media, causing my need to take an hour to put on makeup and curl my hair. Between it all, I write better than I ever have and try to write in spare moments.
It’s all left me exhausted, though. I walk down the hall of my fancy hotel in Seattle with my heels hanging from my fingers. I rub the back of my neck, eager to get my makeup off and throw on some pajamas. When the door’s green light flashes from my key card, I’m already celebrating relief.
Sliding my key into the wall switch, the lights flicker on, and I let the door close behind me. Dropping my shoes to the floor, I walk into my room to grab my pajamas.
Then I spot it.
On the small table in my room there is a basket… full of apples.
That’s a little strange, but an inkling hits me.
There is only a small card on hotel stationery from the concierge.
This was delivered without a card. With kindest regards, Reception.
A soft knock on my door causes me to instantly dart back to the door. I peek through the viewer and squint my eye, but I see nothing as another guest walks by, blocking my view.
It feels safe enough with other people around, but it doesn’t matter anyhow because I’m certain who is here.
Opening the door, I’m greeted with a smirk as Stone leans against the opposite wall with his ankles crossed, and he’s holding up a single apple, with his other hand in his pocket. He’s wearing dark slacks and a dark blue button-down shirt. Not entirely sure why he’s on the formal side, but his appearance is sexy as hell.
“I believe you’re missing one,” he informs me before he tosses it up, only to catch it.
My face eases into a happiness that I’ve been keeping on the offside. “You found me,” I rasp.
Stone steps forward. “Had to. One of us didn’t want to admit that they wanted to see the other.”
A sharp breath hits me. It’s me, completely me.
“The thing is, Harlow, you miss me. I know you do.”
“Stone, I…” What should I say? I want to run and not ruin this moment at all. But I want this moment, every second, and what comes next too. “If I say yes, then what?”
He steps closer, and his eyes narrow in on me, they darken, have me in a hold, and I get that glimmer that I’ve had a few times when Stone Madden has a strong desire to ensure he gets what he wants.
He glides the back of his long finger along my cheek. “I believe our kiss scared you away, and our emails only solidified that you ran when you didn’t want to.”
My chest rises, and I want to crumble and admit the truth. A shaky nod is all I can give.
Another step closer and the back of his hand brushes my cheek, and I nuzzle my face into his hand, breathing in his scent that has a hint of cardamom, taking in this natural movement between us.
