Page 149 of Stone

“You look like a ranch owner.”

He took a swig of his beer. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good. It was meant as one.” I studied his fingers, still connected to mine on the bar.

Robert didn’t touch me anymore. He hadn’t for years. It was common knowledge he had girlfriends and mistresses. I was grateful for those women because they stopped him from coming to me. Though he told me often I was terrible in bed, and I lay there like a dead fish.

He wasn’t wrong.

Even so, I’d never strayed outside my marriage, not because I felt any loyalty to it, but because it was always John. My Stone was all I ever wanted.

But sitting at that bar, it dawned on me that I didn’t want to die, and Robert Henderson be the last man who touched me. I wanted somebody to take the memory of him away and replace it with something clean. It could never be John; he belonged to another woman. And even attempting something closer to home was a risk, not only to myself but also to the other person involved.

Maybe I could take this and feel clean again.

My eyebrows pulled together, and I whispered, “Would you like to spend the night with me, Tucker?”

His eyes met mine. “You feel it, too?”

I nodded.

“I haven’t since Marie…” He sighed. “I mean, you would be the first since her.”

My frown deepened. “I’d be honored.”

“The honor’s all mine, Elise.” He drained his bottle, rose from the stool, and helped me down. Then, he tucked my purse under one arm, me under the other, and walked us out to the elevators. The doors opened, and we stepped inside. His kiss, when it came, was soft, and I almost cried because the last man to touch me with such care and reverence was my John.

And in its own sweet way, it was beautiful.

The following day, when I awoke, a note was folded on the pillow beside me.

I got up, donned my robe, and brushed my teeth before settling down to read.

Thank you, Elise.

For helping me begin to heal.

I’ll never forget.

Leave the asshole.

Be happy.

Tucker.

Motioning to the maid to grab my carry-on, I moved through the hallway, taking my mail from the antique mahogany side table, and began to flick through. The echo of my designer spike heels tapped from the tiles as I went.

“Elise,” Robert called from his study. “Here, please.”

I swerved right and walked inside. “Yes, Robert?”

He studied me from behind his desk. “Condolences for your mother. I apologize I couldn’t attend her funeral, but I had a lot going on. Work has been hectic.”

Lifting an eyebrow, I looked at him expectantly. “Anything else?”

“We have that charity function on Saturday. Please be available.”

“Of course,” I murmured, giving him a cool nod.

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