Page 126 of Sterling Stone

Home.

“Is this for real?” I whisper, staring at the brick, no longer seeing just red rectangles on the side of a building, but a mural of color, bright and dark, rich green, soft blue, and a multitude of every other color to represent everyone who lives here.

“What?” Stone asks, answering my question with his own.

This moment. Us. A future.

“Are you giving me this wall to paint?”

He presses a kiss to my temples. “Technically, Frederick’s is allowing you to paint the side of their building, and Emerson approved a mural as a town improvement, giving you a limited budget for paint and your services.”

I spin to face him. “You don’t even know what I charge?”

“I’ll pay any difference necessary.” He waves up and down my body. “As long as it gets you out of your head, and into your art.”

He pauses a second, looking me directly in the eyes. Cobalt swirls in those blue orbs. “You need to paint, Taxi. And selfishly, I want to give you a reason to stick around a little longer.”

A reason?

He’s my reason.

Stone Sylver is as sturdy as they come. He’s attentive without being overbearing. Sweet in all the right ways, and undeniably sexy.

But I also know a decision to stay is bigger than us. It’s about me.

I like the road, but I’m tired of traveling. I want some place to call home. I want a backyard. I want to build my own community, one where I’m active and permanent.

“I want to see your work,” Stone adds. “A new item on my bucket list is to travel to all your murals, but for now, I want to see one created right here. One I’ll get to keep in my town.”

One he’ll keep.

And one I plan to make extra special, just for him.

I turn toward him and throw my arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

I’ve never had someone gift me a wall. The canvas is blank, and my fingers are already itching to sketch a design for the town’s approval.

But first, I kiss Stone Sylver, town sheriff, ultimate man, right here on Corner Street.

Let this small-town be put on notice, he’s mine.

I intend to keep him.

Stone kisses me back before smiling against my mouth. “I have one final suggestion about the couch trading dilemma.”

“What?” I say, still hanging on to him, grinning like a fool.

He gave me a wall. A freakin’ wall.

“Come stay with me. Let Jolene take the couch. You can have my bed,” he says, still holding on to me. His hands slip to my hips, keeping me in place against him.

“I was planning on sleeping in Gloria,” I admit.

I don’t know why I’ve been arguing with Jolene. I have an escape hatch. I’ve slept in my van plenty of times. And yet, something inside me doesn’t want to bundle up in the van in my aunt’s driveway, alone again.

“I don’t like that plan,” Stone states.

Our eyes meet. It’s not up to him to like the decision or not, but I appreciate his concern all the same. I also might agree with him. I don’t like the plan either.