Page 52 of Stone Promises

“How long have you used that name?” I ask.

“A few years I guess.”

Years?

He sees the surprise on my face. “I told you, Mal. Boyhood fantasies die hard.”

I feel the blush cross my face and he chuckles.

“So, Cole doesn’t have to stay in the suite with you?” I ask, wondering about the bodyguard/guardee dynamic.

“Occasionally we’ll get a two-bedroom suite and he’ll take one of the bedrooms. But now is not one of those occasions.” He smiles at me suggestively. “But speaking of Cole. I’d like to go over a few things with you.”

He motions to the couch and I sit. “Oh, okay.”

He points to a door on the far side of the living room. “Cole’s room is on the other side of that connecting door. He’s been instructed that whenever I’m with you, he’s to protect the both of us, not just me.”

“What?” I ask, incredulously. “Why would he need to protect me?”

“Because I need you safe,” he says. Then he shakes his head in disgust. “And because there are some sicko people in this world.” He holds his hand out. “Can I see your phone, please?” I hand it to him and watch over his shoulder as he programs Cole’s number into my contacts and sets it on my favorites screen.

He smiles up at me. “I’m on your favorites screen?”

I nod, embarrassed.

He whips out his phone and taps it a few times. “And you’re on mine,” he says, proudly showing me his phone.

I read his list of favorites. Ethan. Kyle. His mom and dad. Me. And then there is a girl named Megan. I look up at him and he shifts uncomfortably. He’s obviously forgotten to wipe an old girlfriend or something. He cringes. “Sorry,” he says. “Haven’t cleaned it out in a while.”

I want to ask who the hell Megan is. Because I’m pretty sure he claimed Courtney was his last girlfriend. But I fear Chad has a lot of skeletons in his closet and I’m just not sure I want to know about all of them. After all, does it matter what he did before me? I try to push aside my jealousy of a girl who may only exist as a memory on his phone.

He clears his throat. “Uh, anyway, call him anytime you need to. Even when we’re not in town. He will always know where I am in case you need me.”

A horrid grumbling sound comes from my stomach. “Oh, my gosh. Sorry about that,” I say. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

He looks at his watch. “It’s nearly six o’clock, Mallory. Why didn’t you eat lunch?” he scolds me.

“I wasn’t hungry then. I guess I was . . . uh, nervous.”

“Nervous?” He laughs. “Mal, you’ve seen me take a dump in the woods before. Why would you be nervous after that?”

I cover my mouth as I erupt in giggles. “I had forgotten all about that. I didn’t actually watch you, you know. I did turn my back. I mean, gross.”

We start reminiscing about old times, sinking into the couch, holding hands and talking until my stomach growls again.

“That’s it, I’m feeding you, woman.” He goes over to the desk and retrieves a menu. “Room service okay? It’s not a picnic in Central Park or anything, but it means I get to keep you all to myself.”

“Room service is perfect,” I say.

He quickly calls in our order, not even bothering to ask what I want. He orders two cheeseburgers, medium rare. One without pickles. He also gets fries. And chocolate shakes. Because what good are fries if you don’t have chocolate shakes to dip them in? I love that he knows all this about me.

And despite the fact that there’s a huge dining room table in the suite, we sit on the floor and eat our burgers at the coffee table. I smile, thinking this was something we would do when we were kids. “In case I forgot to tell you, that picnic was the best picnic I’ve ever had in my entire life.”

He ignores his half-eaten burger and catches my eyes. “Better than the one we had over in Greyson County when we saw all those horses and Julian tried to ride one bareback?”

I laugh at the memory. “Better,” I tell him.

“How about the one we had out at my grandparents’ place that summer when we made s’mores on the beach?”

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