Page 16 of Cold Winter Nights

He gave a warm tentative smile since Stone had yet to take him up on his offer. If Stone declined and chose to eat a cold sandwich alone in his house instead of with him, Royal knew his pride would slink under the table and hide.

Slowly, Stone removed his coat and hung it on a nearby peg. He ran his hand through his thick, silver and black hair before he pulled out the chair across from him and sat down.

The chair groaned beneath his weight, and a stirring of desire sizzled in Royal’s groin when he thought of how it would feel to have so much man on top of him.

He sat taller, hoping he wasn’t giving anything away. He wasn’t used to such visceral feelings. Attraction was new to him. He’d been so consumed with work, spreadsheets, meetings, making tons of money for not only himself but for selfish, greedypeople, he’d forgotten there were other things in life besides finances.

“I’m afraid I might not be much company,” Stone started, his voice sounding heavy with weariness. “Never been good at small talk.”

Royal felt a pang of understanding. He’d also spent years pushing people away. If they weren’t about business, he wanted nothing to do with them.

“Well, I’m not sure how good I’ll be at it either.” Royal took a sip of his wine. “That is unless you can work in topics of maximizing profitability or cash forecasting. Otherwise I’ll probably be pretty bad at it myself.”

Stone’s lips twitched as if they wanted to curve upwards but had forgotten how.

“Well, unless you can work heavy machinery into the conversation, or the best time to harvest pine, then…”

Royal chuckled, the sound foreign to his ears. He enjoyed the feeling that rose in his chest when he did. He was glad his laugh didn’t make him sound like a dolphin.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, as they stared at one another until Myra came back with a cup of hot tea and a bottle of honey for Stone, and a glass of water with no ice.

“Your dinners are almost ready, you two,” she said, glancing between them. “And Stone, I’m taking your sandwich home to my son, you can eat what Royal’s having.”

Stone focused on stirring the honey into his tea while Royal watched him openly. His boldness grew a fraction more every time they saw each other. The couple of days he’d stayed inside, he’d thought of Stone a lot, what he was doing, and if he was wondering where he’d been.

Stone drank his tea, and Royal’s gaze went to his lips. They were full and framed by a thick mustache and beard he wondered was soft or bristly.

When he looked up, Stone was staring him, his brows knitted together, those blue eyes darkening like the clouds before a storm.

He couldn’t get a read on Stone. The small gestures, the almost imperceptible flickers of emotion behind his glare all felt like a slow dance waiting on the right song before it officially began.

Royal

There was something magnetic about Stone, maybe it was his simple way of living, or perhaps because he was older—if his silver hair and wise eyes were any indication—he had some years on him. Whatever it was, it drew Royal in.

“Not a wine drinker?” he asked.

Stone gave him his attention. “Not really. Living here, and working outside, you take a liking to warm drinks, and room temperature water.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

Silence fell on them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or weird—it felt nice.

Myra returned carrying two plates and set them down in front of them. A savory aroma wafted through the air, making Royal’s stomach growl. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

With a sly smile, she winked at Stone, “Beef stroganoff is your favorite, yes, or at least it used to be.”

Stone surveyed the plate then began to nod. “It still is, Myra. It looks good, thank you.”

“Only person that made it better than me was Stone’s husband, Ben,” Myra put her hand to her heart. “God bless his soul.”

Royal paused, his fork clutched loosely in his hand.

“You two enjoy, I’ll check back in on ya.”

Myra walked away, leaving them with that charged energy between them.

Royal felt he should say something.

---