Page 33 of Sterling Stone

“What do you mean?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“Man’s had a hard life,” Aunt Trudy says, turning back toward the counter where Mary is back to slicing lemons. A large bottle of vodka rests just off the cutting board next to a pitcher filled with ice.

Oh my. So, it’s going to be that kind of lemonade.

“He sure has,” Mary agrees with Aunt Trudy, keeping her voice quiet while she pauses from slicing lemons. She glances at Trudy. “I’m just grateful he has patience. I don’t know if he’ll ever truly forgive Cortland, but I see him trying. Or at least giving him grace for his sister’s sake.”

“What are you two talking about?” I demand, whipping my gaze from one woman to the other. Town gossip is not my thing, but curiosity has risen like the hairs on an agitated cat.

“Stone was engaged once,” Trudy explains.

“And Cortland stole the girl,” Mary adds, her shoulders falling in disappointment. “Worst mistake he ever made. Both the girl and losing his best friend over her.”

“But you got Josh,” Trudy gently states, like a pleasant reminder.

“But I got Josh.” Mary smiles.

“Who is Josh?” I ask.

“My grandson. He’s almost twenty-four.” Mary’s smile grows even larger as she mentions the young man.

“And he looks just like his daddy,” Aunt Trudy confirms with another hum, giving a stamp of approval to the young Haven family member.

With my mind still reeling over Stone once being engaged, losing both the woman and his best friend to betrayal, he makes another appearance in a pair of loose, camel-colored hiking shorts and a light heather-gray T-shirt.

There’d been jabs and quips about Stone being reserved and stalwart during the baseball game, but I hadn’t really seen that side of him.

I only know a man with a sly smile who bumped into me in a hotel hallway.

I also know the man who leaned into faking he was my blind date and then did not feign interest in learning about my art commission.

He even stepped up for a single dance, walked me home so to speak, and kissed me goodnight like I was his next breath.

He’d been a bit of an illusion that night but knowing that he’s endured loss and come out steadier for it makes him seem even more grounded, more real. I think back to the tight expression on his face when he watched Vale and Cort kissing by the driveway. His emotion held back. The patience Mary Haven mentions firmly intact.

He wasn’t Superman so much as human.

A man who’s been hurt but survived. And suddenly, I see him a bit differently again.

We’ve all been hurt at some point. We all have heartbreak stories to tell and secrets to keep, and it wasn’t fair of me to judge him for his.

Emerson Milton. She’s a friend.

Still, I wasn’t staying. I didn’t know why I keep finding myself on a path facing Stone Sylver, but I’ll be making a U-turn soon.

But dammit, why does he have to look so good? The T-shirt looks worn and soft, and I bet it smells like him. Mountain air and freshly showered. A swirl of dizzy green and comforting blue.

I close my eyes like it will make Stone disappear, but behind my lids all I see is his face. The confusion when I accused him of playing me. The hurt. The adamant tone of his voice rings in my ears. When he told me he hadn’t been with someone else and explained Emerson Milton. Explained that he’d been telling her about an incredible woman he’d met the night before.

He’d been telling her about me.

But why hadn’t he told me about her?

Opening my eyes, I find Stone’s gaze on me, blatant and direct, and building the tension I’d felt upstairs, while trapped in a small bathroom where the freshly showered scent of him overwhelmed my senses. His heart was racing under my palm. His skin warm and tight.

Like his jaw right now as he stares at me.

Ah, there’s the stalwart, reserved man I’ve heard about.