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CHAPTER FOUR
STONE WAS AT Carly’s house.
Now that he was there, what was Carly supposed to do with him?
Let him carry the box to her porch and send him away?
It was what she wanted to do, what she was tempted to do.
Somehow she didn’t think he would agree to it though. He had that “let me be your knight in shining armor” look that she’d seen in the movies her mother enjoyed watching, but that Carly had never seen in real life.
Until now.
If Stone went inside, it was quite possible her mother would be asleep and Carly could avoid that explanation. But Joyce would be there and ready to head to her home to spend the evening with her husband.
Joyce seeing Stone would raise questions. From Joyce, but perhaps more so from Stone.
Maybe she could have him set the box just inside the doorway and get him back outside prior to Joyce realizing they were there. Before Stone realized there was someone else in the house.
Unlikely, but she could try.
Or she could just tell Stone everything.
Which made her stomach hurt.
She didn’t want him to feel sorry for her or feel obligated to offer help. The past had taught her people might think they wanted to help, but most only offered idle words.
She had this. She could take care of her mother.
She could, she was, and she would.
Or was it that she was afraid he’d pull a Tony?
Wasn’t that what she actually needed him to do? What would be best for her and Stone?
So, why was she hesitating?
“It’s no problem,” Stone assured her, pulling Carly back to their conversation as he lifted the box out of her backseat.
“Thank you.” She shut the car door then moved ahead of him to unlock her front door.
She turned, wondering if Stone would be agreeable to drop the box in the foyer and leave.
Maybe she was a runner after all, because if she could escape this moment, her tennis shoes would be getting a desperately needed workout.
Stone carried the box, stopped just inside the doorway and asked, “Where would you like me to put this?”
She pointed to a small wooden bench that had once upon a time belonged to her long-gone grandparents. “Right there is fine.”
He set the box down. “What’s in this thing, anyway?”
“Stolen goods from the hospital.”
His eyes narrowed.
Nerves still shaking up her insides, Carly grinned. “Gotcha.”
His lips twitched. “Maybe a little.”
“It’s expired hospital supplies that were going to be tossed,” she admitted, wondering if she was strong enough to toss him out the front door before Joyce saw him. The nurse must have been tied up with Audrey or she’d have already greeted Carly.
Stone glanced toward the box. “What do you do with the supplies?”
She shrugged. Best to stick with the truth. “Use what I can and donate the rest. Let’s go back outside.” Please. “I think I left something in the car.”
“Oh.” He turned toward the front door, but they were too late.
“I thought I heard voices in here,” Joyce said, entering the room, then stopping when she spotted Stone.
Carly’s stomach dropped.
Startled, Stone glanced toward Carly, then back at the woman who was gawking at him as if she didn’t believe her eyes. She must not have because she was adjusting her glasses as if they’d stopped working.
Quickly recovering, Stone stuck out his hand. “Stone Parker.” He flashed his amazing smile. “I work with Carly.”
“You’re a nurse?” Joyce’s gaze went back and forth between them.
Carly inwardly cringed at the questions in the older woman’s eyes. Joyce was trying to figure out who Stone was and why he was there. Maybe she even thought he was trying to replace her as Audrey’s sitter. As if.
“He’s a doctor,” Carly clarified to make sure there was no doubt Joyce’s job was not in jeopardy. Far from it. Carly needed Joyce every moment she could afford her.
“You’re a doctor?” Joyce asked, sounding a bit incredulous. “Sign me up for some healthcare. I think I’m way past due for my physical.”
Heat infused Carly’s cheeks at Joyce’s off-color remark.
Stone’s smile dug his dimples deep into his cheeks. He was probably used to such comments from women of all ages. “I’ll have to give you my card so you can schedule an appointment.”
Joyce’s eyes twinkled. “You do that.”
“Nice shirt, by the way.”
Joyce looked down at the vintage Kiss T-shirt she wore with the four band members in full make-up and leather garb framed in a fiery circle. “Thanks. My husband and I were music buffs in our younger years.” She glanced over the gold rim of her glasses. “I have quite the collection.”
