Page 63 of Sterling Stone

“Like a ton of bricks ready to topple,” I openly admit. I feel shaken in all sorts of ways. Trudy’s health. Simon’s mental state. Stone.

“Understandable,” Stone chuffs. “What do you need to stabilize that pile for a little bit? A movie? A glass of wine?”

I softly snort. “Trudy does not keep alcohol in this house.”

Trudy is not a prude, but she preaches against the evils she’s seen caused by alcohol consumption, and she never had liquor in her home while raising other people’s children.

The thought hits me hard.

“Movie then?” Stone arches a brow, distracting me before my thoughts can take another detour into the past.

We both glance at the medium-sized television in the living room.

“Superman?” I question.

“What happened to alien invasions?”

A second passes before I remember the book I’d been reading when I first encountered Stone.

Daddy Dom Alien Invasion.

Since then, I’d gone on to read an entire collection of blue alien romances.

“Oh, I moved on to silver foxes.”

Our eyes lock, and the corner of Stone’s mouth twitches.

“As in shifters?” Stone asks, wiggling that arched brow.

“What do you know about shifter romance?” I tease.

“I’ve got a sister in a fake book club.”

“Fake?” I snort. “What’s a fake book club?”

“A group of women disguising themselves as a book club, meeting once a week over a yarn shop, where they drink wine, and the shop owner sells sex toys.”

My mouth falls open. Stone laughs.

“You’re totally kidding me.”

Stone raises one hand, palm out with two fingers extended, and places his other hand over his chest. “Scout’s honor.”

I grip those two raised fingers and tug. “I bet you were the best Boy Scout as a kid.”

Stone shakes his head. “Hate to disappoint you, but I didn’t need that organization.” He runs the knuckles of his other hand underneath his chin and scratches. “I learned what I needed to know by running wild on our property and in the woods behind it.”

Still holding those two fingers for some reason, I scan down his body, drinking in his broad shoulders and firm chest.

“Outdoorsman?” I question.

He shrugs. “Not as much as I used to be. Go on hikes when I can.” He glances across the room at the blank television.

I sense another story here, but Stone and I have had enough tough talks in the last forty-eight hours.

“How are you at technology?” I ask.

He turns his head toward me, and I nod at the television set. “You figure out how that works, and I’ll go see if Trudy has microwave popcorn.”