Page 11 of Stone's Promise

Oliver grabbed my arm, tugging. “Yeah, Mom. You said I could take karate soon. Cody can show me how he kicks.”

As if to prove his point, Oliver attempted his best kick, followed by a quick, wobbly punch.

Cody nodded approvingly. “That’s a right jab. You seem like a tough little guy. How about we try some kicks in the park this Sunday?”

Oliver gasped like he’d just won the lottery.

I blinked, caught off guard by the casual offer. “Uh... yeah. We can make it a little picnic.”

“Yesss!” Oliver jumped in place, pumping his fist.

“Oliver,” I said, trying to reel things back in, “get inside and drink your milk. Then go to bed.”

Mama waved him toward the kitchen. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s let the grown folks talk.”

With one last wide-eyed look at Cody, Oliver finally obeyed, leaving us alone on the porch.

I exhaled. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind.” Cody shrugged. “He seems like a good kid. Should be fun.”

“I want to respect your time while you train for your upcoming fight.”

“Sunday’s my easy day. I’ll hit the gym in the morning, then meet you guys for lunch at noon. Sound good?”

I wasn’t used to men who made decisions easily. It was kind of nice. “Sounds great. I’ll bring the food. Got a favorite snack?”

“As long as it’s high in protein.”

“Guess we’ll see what I come up with, then.”

Max let out a low huff from the truck, as if reminding Cody they had places to be.

I grinned. “I think Max is looking forward to it, too.”

Cody glanced over at his furry friend. “He just thinks there’ll be food.”

I laughed, stepping back toward the door. “If he likes peanut butter, he might be in luck.”

Cody turned toward his truck. “See you Sunday, Emily.”

I lingered in the doorway, watching as he climbed in. Max stuck his head out again, his big eyes tracking me as if making sure I was still there.

And I was.

Even after the truck disappeared down the street, I stood there, arms wrapped around myself.

“Well, well, well,” Mama’s voice came from behind me. “That looked a lot like a good date.”

I groaned, turning toward the kitchen. “It was nice.

“Mmhmm. I saw a certain someone getting all flustered when a certain hunky fighter invited himself to a picnic.”

I grabbed a cookie from the counter and took a dramatic bite. “Mama. Please.”

Her teasing softened as she leaned against the counter. “I know you work hard, but you should think about yourself, too. I’m glad you seemed like you enjoyed yourself tonight.”

I swallowed, not sure how to respond. I didn’t want to admit to her that this was just fake dating for the press. I wasn’t even sureIbelieved that anymore.

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