Page 74 of Stone Rules

“Thanks, Melissa. Great job.”

“No problem,” she says, getting up to leave.

I open her email and immediately pull up his picture. He’s built. Not like me, but he looks strong. Muscular. Black hair like Charlie said. Tanned skin, blue eyes. And even though I’m a guy, I can see why Charlie might have been attracted to him. It doesn’t seem to me like he’d need much of a story to get women to go home with him. As far as men go, he’s damn good looking.Fuck. My blood boils thinking of this asshole’s hands on her.

I look over at the picture of Charlie. I want to be mad at her for hooking up with him. But I can’t. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for my sheer stupidity. I wouldn’t be staring at the man who touched the woman I love. The man who could potentially be the father of the child I want.

I read over the information Melissa was able to extract from Facebook. His birthdate. His recent places of employment. Names of friends he’s tagged with the most. Places he checks in at often.

I type what information I have into my source for background checks. I don’t have a social security number or an address though, so I might have to call in a favor to get this one.

I pull up Zachary Thompson’s Facebook page. Like anyone with sub-par intelligence, he doesn’t have any privacy settings on it so I’m free to view all of his friends, all of his likes, all of his pictures. He posts a lot of pictures. Mostly selfies with beautiful women. Some while he’s kissing them. I hold my breath as I scroll down through the hundreds of posts until I find the specific Saturday he was with Charlie.

I’m relieved to find there isn’t a picture of her.

I know I’ll need to tell Charlie about what I’ve found. Eventually, when I know everything there is to know about him, I’ll tell her. But what she plans to do with that information scares the shit out of me. Every day since I put Melissa on task, I think that maybe I should have let it go. After all, we didn’t know anything about him. He would have merely been a blip on the radar. A bump in the road. But in my haste to protect her, have I done nothing but open Pandora’s Box?

No. She loves me. I can see it in her eyes. Feel it in her kisses. She doesn’t trust men. She wouldn’t risk telling him and putting her child in danger. I’m doing the right thing.

I check the clock, adrenaline shooting through me when I remember what tonight is. Tonight I’m making dinner for Charlie. Tonight she will come over to my place for the first time. Tonight I hope to do more than kiss those beautiful lips—the only part of her body other than her hands that I’ve had the pleasure of touching since the night I held her in her sleep.

I duck out early to hit the market. Being the boss allows that kind of schedule. When I tell Gretchen I’m leaving, she asks, “Are you sick? You never leave early.”

I laugh. “No, I’m not sick. I just have something really important to do, that’s all.”

“Oh, well if it’s that important, is there anything I can do to help you?” She flashes her teeth at me along with her cleavage.

Not a workday goes by where I don’t get to see that cleavage. Not that I’m looking, but she just doesn’t give up. It’s hard for me not to feel a little bad for her, though. I can’t imagine what it would feel like if Charlie had shut me out completely. But Gretchen is so obvious about it. Leaving me notes here and there. Baiting me with hotel room keys. Fucking me with her bedroom eyes. I really should put an end to it once and for all.

“Thanks, Gretchen. I’m good.” I turn to leave, but then think maybe I can kill two birds here. “Actually, can you call a florist and have a few dozen bouquets of flowers delivered to my penthouse please? Roses and whatever other flowers girls like.”

“Your penthouse?” she asks, her mouth full of sour grapes.

In the years that Gretchen and I, uh … helped each other out, I never took her to my place. Not once. I’ve never taken any woman there. Charlie will be the first. The only. And hopefully the last.

“Yes. My penthouse. Better make it six dozen, I’m going all out on this one. Thanks Gretchen.” I turn and leave before I can see her reaction. I know I’ve hurt her. I know I probably should have ordered the flowers myself. But how many times do I have to tell her I’m not interested before she starts to believe that I’m really not interested?

I make quick work of picking out two perfect steaks at the market. Now that Charlie’s morning sickness has passed, she’s developed a strong craving for meat, and I’m all about satisfying her cravings. I grab the biggest strawberries I can find along with chocolate I plan to melt for dipping.

When I arrive home, the first thing I do is change my clothes. It’s become quite evident to me over the past few months that Charlie much prefers me in jeans over my usual work attire. So I swap my linen pants, white shirt and black tie for blue jeans and a t-shirt that I bought because I think it’s the exact shade of her eyes. I don’t bother with shoes or socks. That’s one more thing I’ve come to know about her, she thinks my bare feet are sexy. She’s always staring at them when we get out of the pool.

Hell, I don’t care if she thinks my bony kneecaps are sexy. Whatever turns her on is fine by me—as long as it’s something. And I see it. I see it in her eyes every time we're together. She wants this as much as I do. But now she’s the one who’s scared.

It’s all part of tonight’s plan—to show her how serious I am about her. About us. About this baby whom I’ve considered my own since the moment she told me she was pregnant.

I busy myself with dinner preparations to keep my mind occupied. I told her I’d send a car for her but she would have nothing to do with it. So I texted her the address of my building and told her the doorman would be expecting her.

When my doorbell rings, my heart races like a goddamn teenage boy about to get a handy. I look around to make sure everything is in place. The flowers were delivered, and to my surprise, Gretchen did a great job on the order. I lit a few candles. I have soft music playing in the background. It’s perfect. Well, I think it is anyway. I’ve never done this before. Maybe I don’t have a fucking clue and I’ve just gone so overboard I’ll scare her away.Shit.

But it’s too late now, I’ve already spent so much time worrying over it, she probably thinks I’m not going to answer the door. I don’t even have time to blow out the candles before I race over to let her in.

When I open the door, she sticks her head in before the rest of her body. She looks around and takes everything in. “The penthouse?” she asks. “You could have told me you were Richie Rich, Ethan.”

Chapter Thirty-five

She looks down at the bottle of wine in her hand. “I feel really stupid bringing you a fifteen-dollar bottle of wine.”

I laugh. “I’m not Richie Rich,” I tell her. Then I take the bottle from her. “And I love this wine. You remembered?”

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