“It’s just that ...” He cinches the bag. “Did I really fire a worker because they left bricks in the wrong spot?”
The earnest look on his face makes my stomach quake. “I can’t say for sure because I wasn’t there. But ...”
I let the rest of the sentence hang in the air. Stone’s gaze latches on to mine, and it feels like there’s a line of strings running from my ribs to my stomach, and they’re all being plucked at different times.
“But it sounds like something I would do. You were going to say that,” he notes.
“Yeah,” I admit glumly. “It does.”
This sinks in and he stares at the floor in thought. “Coco?”
“Yeah?”
His eyes lift, and the look of worry and longing in them makes my throat shrivel to the size of a hazelnut. “Would Ilikeme?”
Why does this small question make me wince? “I’m not ... sure.”
He nods and yawns. “I’m pretty tired.”
I pull out a new bag and put it in the trash can. “Me too. Let’s get your bed set up.”
As I grab blankets and pillows, I’m unsure what tomorrow will bring, or who Stone will be when it comes.
Will he be the man who ignores the ley lines, or the other man—the one who surprises me minute by minute?
Chapter 17
Stone
We spend the next day going over building ideas. Blueprints are spread across the table like a puzzle I’m trying to solve. Coco hovers nearby, offering suggestions that are brilliant, by the way. Her ideas for materials knock me off-kilter. She knows her stuff.
But the real surprise is, she doesn’t feel like a stranger. Even though I can’t remember her, there’s something familiar about her, like I’ve known her forever.
When she leans in to point at the plans, her hand brushes my shoulder. It’s warm. Intimate. Like this isn’t the first time we’ve touched.
Like we’ve done this before.
A hundred times before.
“All right, guys, we’re changing the plan.”
Ron and Isaac stare at me blankly.
“You got the go-ahead from the city?” Isaac asks.
My head swivels until my gaze lands on Coco, who stands a few feet away in a patch of grass with Hercules. The lambicorn ignores the grass completely and nibbles on Coco’s skirt.
Can’t say I blame him. That woman’s got legs that go on for days.
Cool it, Stone. You don’t even know if there’s anything going on between you.
If there isn’t, someone needs to tell the undercurrent of electricity that flows whenever I look at her. It feels like we’re both light switches dying to be flipped.
On. Not off. Don’t misunderstand me.
But our relationship is professional. I mean, isn’t it? Coco hasn’t said otherwise, and I can’t remember what I had for dinner a week ago, much less pick apart the past details of my life.
Plus, I still can’t get into my phone or computer. I tried again this morning, but the passwords didn’t come to me.
