Page 17 of Dr. Stone
He smiled, “When have you ever given a shit about how you made a woman feel? Or if anyone talked about her?”
“Well, I…”
“That’s why you’re fucked. You actuallycareabout her.”
“What? No, I don’t. I mean…I do, but not like that.”
“Get in your car, lover boy. We got men at Darcy’s waiting for us, men who have been in your same shoes,” his eyes studied mine in humor. “Oh, man. This is better than I could’ve hoped for. It looks like another playboy is about to meet his match. Trust me, if she haunts your mind for more than a day, she’s got you by the balls.” He stepped back and laughed, “And that fucking expression just told me you think about her andthat nightevery damn day.”
I stood there, waiting for Jake to back his stupid car out so I could get in mine, still reeling that he’d read me that fast after only three minutes of trying to pry details out of me.
The second my thoughts drifted there, I saw her breasts, heard her moans. I blinked it away. Holy fuck. No. I’m not doing this. It was one night, and it was perfect. That’s all. Right?
Shit. I needed to get out there and find another gorgeous woman to erase these images. If there’s one thing I don’t do, it’s let a woman take up space in my head like this. Ever.
Jake could mess with me all he wanted, but he was wrong. I didn’t want more than that one night.
Or maybe I did. Fucking hell.
NINE
Andie
I finished usingmy flat iron, creating the final curl to complete thebeach-wavelook I was going for today. I stepped back from the mirror and smiled at the lively woman staring back at me.
Damn, it felt good to be myself again, to be happy, and most of all, tofeeleverything once more. It’d been a month since I’d had my littleawakeningthanks to that remarkably hot and amazing one-night hook-up with Jace, and I had no regrets.
Who knew? Maybe if I saw the man again, I’d thank him, but for now, I was merely grateful for him.
I took one last look in the mirror before I turned to leave and wake Brandon for his breakfast. My mornings used to start with Brandon babbling from his crib and wakingmeup, giving me barely enough time to get us both out the door on time, while I prayed that I had everything for Brandon’s sitter in his diaper bag.
Now, I was up at six every morning with a cup of coffee, watching early risers running along the shoreline as the sun came up. It was the perfect way to start every day. I was fortunate to have this beautiful view, which I hadn’t appreciated for too long, and I was thankful that my parents had helped me buy this small, two-bedroom apartment in the most beautiful part of Santa Monica.
One would look at me from the outside, and people might call me a spoiled little rich girl, and I suppose they’d be correct. However, I greatly appreciated that my parents were financially well off and generous with helping others, not just their daughter.
Every morning since I changed my patterns and routines, I woke up focusing on my blessings and steering clear of any negative thoughts that could threaten to bring down my positive mood.
As soon as I stepped into Brandon’s room, I smiled when I saw his deep blue eyes fixed on the delicate wooden biplanes gently dancing on their strings of the mobile hanging above his crib.
“Good morning, handsome,” I said in a gentle voice.
A large smile spread across his face, igniting the ocean blue color of his eyes. I loved this part of coming in to wake him up. Every time my dark, curly-haired boy made eye contact with me, he’d smile and get so excited that he’d flip over and push himself up to stand, take a step, and lean against the wooden crib with his arms out, practically demanding I pick him up for a warm, squishy hug.
“I love you,” I said with a giggle, kissing his chubby cheek before bringing him to my side and carrying him to his high chair.
“Mama,” he squealed when I bounced him through the house pretending to be a galloping horse on our way to his high chair.
Brandon giggled as I maneuvered him into his high chair.
I’d already smashed some bananas into his warm oatmeal, and though I knew that oatmeal breakfast days demanded that Brandon have a bath after eating, I didn’t care. I had plenty of time on the clock to freshen him up, get him to Julia’s, and get coffee for Ash and me before heading to the gallery.
I watched Brandon as he ate his favorite breakfast, smiling at me, then returning his attention to the spoon he gripped with purpose to scoop up his oatmeal. How many times had I looked at him and felt a sharp pain when I saw how much he looked like his dad? But for the past month, that knife in my stomach wasn’t there.
His dark curly hair, his olive-toned skin, and eyes that resembled the deep ocean on a dark, cloudy day…that was all Jonathan. But his plump lips, vibrant smile, and cute little button nose? Those he got from me. He was perfect, and now I was just grateful his asshole of a father had some nice genes to complement this perfect little boy.
I could get lost watching and admiring him, but time was about to slip, and I needed to get his sippy cups and diaper bag packed for the sitter, or I would be late.
Ring! Ring!
