Page 49 of Perfect Storm

“It’d be a gift, Stone.” I roll my eyes at him. “You’re a friend. I wouldn’t take money from you.”

“Absolutely not, I’d buy it.”

“I’m not cheap,” I say with a wink.

“No,” his eyes lower to my lips, then back to my eyes. “You’re not.”

I can’t stop the smile from spreading on my face. We’d unlinked arms a while ago, but as we move on, our arms and hands brush together. I peer up at him and he glances down, smiling.

Shitting hell, I used to be way cooler than this, and I’m not getting any younger here. If I want him, I should go for it. I am about to open my mouth when Jordan appears.

“It’s time,” he says. “Everyone’s preoccupied.”

“Okay, honey,” I step closer and once I am sure no one is looking, I give him a big hug. “Where is Alessa?”

“Up front with Dawson,” his face lights up as he speaks about her.

I give him the biggest smile and hold on to his hands. “I am so proud of you,” I tell him.

His usual manic persona is a little more subdued. If I’m not mistaken, my boy is nervous. I squeeze his hands in mine and try to give him some of my strength.

“Okay, yeah. I’m good,” he says, as if I’d asked how he was when in reality we’d been standing here in silence.

Stone is watching us with a bemused look. He’s known Jordan for many years, has seen him at his worst when he was drinking and womanizing. He told me all about how the boys were when they were younger.

I take a step back. “Get out of here,” I tell him with a wink.

“Mama, you are so lucky I’m already taken,” he tells me, pulling me into a hug and kissing my cheek.

I watch him hurry away, then look at Stone, who is staring at me with an unreadable look. “What?” I ask him.

“Was he serious?” he asks, his voice all growly.

“About what? Oh God, of course he isn’t,” I laugh, when I realize what he means. “He’s my almost-adopted son,” I say seriously. “That is just gross.”

I smile as he looks after Jordan. Marcello will look out for him now. We don’t have anything to worry about. Although Jordan needs adult supervision to ensure he doesn’t end up in broken pieces.

As we move on, our hands brush a little more. Our steps slow and the others disappear around a corner. The silence is comfortable, just our breathing and the stomp of our boots on the stone path.

I’m about to muster my courage and open my mouth again when he grabs my hand and stops me. I turn to him, shocked he’s making the first move, but he’s staring into the forest to the side of the trail.

“Look,” he whispers.

I go up on my toes and try to see what caught his attention. Something moves in the trees. Stone helps me up onto a higher rock.

“There,” he points.

“I see it. Is it a deer?”

“An elk,” Stone says, his voice low so he doesn't spook it.

We both watch in awe as the majestic animal grazes a while, before sauntering deeper into the woods.

“That was amazing,” I say as he turns back to face me. He has at least a foot in height on me, but I’m on higher ground, so we're face to face.

“I didn’t even think to grab my camera,” he says.

“I don’t know, Stone. Sometimes it’s nicer to see things through your eyes, rather than a lens.”

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