Page 115 of Dr. Stone
“My bankroll is her bankroll, of course. But you’re right, and that chocolate sauce will not be soon forgotten,” he said, licking his lips absently and shaking his head. “Oh, and she’s not your lady just yet, my friend. You still have to prove your desperate-fool-in-love worth and show up like the Prince Charming youthinkyou are by coming on that yacht with us.”
I sat back down at my desk and opened my calendar, making sure I could move my patients around to travel the fucking world and get the girl back.
“I’ve got one I might have trouble moving on Monday, but other than that, I don’t see any issues,” I said, already thinking of ways to work around my tricky appointment. “Well, I suppose my parents aren’t going to have any problems accepting Andienow, especially since she’s the only reason I’ll be giving in to their nagging about showing up to this event in the first place.”
“Are you booking a flight?” Jake asked. “I mean, I don’t want to sound like a spoiled little rich boy about this, but a private jet is the only way I’ll fly all the way over there.”
“You don’t need to worry about sounding like one, you are one. And so am I, apparently, because I completely agree with you. No matter how hard we try to fight it, being spoiled little rich boys is exactly why we end up stuck having to do shit like this.” I chuckled, “I’ll hit up my parents. They’re flying out Tuesday.”
“If you could’ve gone a day earlier, you could’ve flown on Jim’s party jet,” he chuckled. “Oh, well, lover boy.”
“It’s akill two birds with one stonesituation this time,” I shrugged. “I’ll get my parents to understand how serious I am about this woman, and that I’m not going to allow any family drama at all. If they have a problem with her, then it’ll be a problem with me.”
Jake nodded. “At least they’ll have one of their playboy sons settled down and not actively threatening to ruin the family name withscandals,” he teased with wide, humored eyes.
“No shit,” I laughed. “Perhaps that is how I should lead into this with them. I swear to God, I’m not about to listen to any shit from them.”
“Look at our brave, young, and newly-converted-to-love soldier, so bold and energized and ready to take on the family name,” he taunted. “Careful, Stone. You’re kind of turning me on.”
“I’ll see you guys on Tuesday when we land,” I answered. “And I’ll get Sebastian’s information for the chopper to retrieve me from the airport and bring me to wherever the fuck he’s got the yacht.”
With that rapid change of plans, and my ass still stunned that Andie was already on her way to Croatia with the ladies, I decided that after my rounds, I’d start moving pieces on the board. It was time to call my parents, loop in Sebastian, and finally put together a real plan to see Andie again. Now, I just had to hope crashing this yacht party was enough to snatch her sexy ass back up.
If nothing else, it was at least a hell of a lot better than sending her flowers or texting, right?
“All right, little stooge,”I said to Duke with a laugh, “time to meet your grandparents…” I couldn’t help but wonder what Mom and Dad would say about this unexpected plot twist in my life, but it was as good an intro into telling them what was happening with Andie as anything else.
And why, you might ask, was I stuck bringing Duke with me on this trip? Easy—because Duke is a dick. Even Ash’s dad wouldn’t watch him with a house full of grandkids. Sebastian had to check if someone on his crew could dog-sit. On a six-hundred-million-dollar yacht, you’d be surprised what they pull off. A dog sitter was nothing compared to the support ship offshore, staffed like a floating hotel and commuting by chopper.
So yeah—finding someone to watch a two-pound dog wasn’t the problem. Making sure it wasn’t some dude too busy trying to get laid? That was the issue. Otherwise, Duke was a good boy.
I opened the SUV door my parents sent and was hit with a wall of jet engines and hot tarmac air. Stepping out with sunglasses on, bag over my shoulder, leash in hand—Duke strutted across the pavement like he owned it.
I smirked at him, all two pounds of attitude, tail flicking, head high like he was giving the paparazzi a runway walk.
“We look like we should be on some lonely-heart bachelor reality show, Duke,” I muttered as his paws tapped with purpose.
“Slow your roll, home boy.” He stopped to sniff the back tire of a fuel truck. “Not a great idea to claim territory you can’t defend.”
Ignored me, of course.
Six-foot-three, ex-college athlete, cardiac surgeon—and here I was, crossing a runway with a Yorkie on a leash that probably cost more than my watch. Worst part? He didn’t just tolerate the attention—he thrived on it. That’s why he drove me nuts. And why, lately, he’d been cracking me up.
I adjusted my grip on the leash as he pranced up to the jet stairs, where Captain Reiner, my parents’ longtime pilot, waited with an iPad and an unmistakable smirk.
He stepped down as we approached, tall, silver-haired, and sharp in his uniform like always. The man had flown my family across continents for twenty years and had seen me in every phase of my life: hungover, injured, annoyed with this lifestyle, emotionally shut down, and completely indifferent.
What he had never seen until now was me walking a rhinestone-trimmed, attitude-filled teacup Yorkie.
“Afternoon, Jace,” he said, voice polite but laced with amusement. His eyes dropped to the dog. “New crew member?”
I arched an eyebrow. “We’re not going there, Cap. You’ve seen me in worse situations.”
Reiner chuckled. “True. At least this little guy isn’t underage and sneaking vodka on board.”
“Nah, he’s just waiting to slide into your left seat,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Reiner grinned. “Now you know what it’s like flying with you.”
