Page 35 of Dr. Stone
I wasn’t used to having anyone help me like this. I certainly didn’t want to become dependent upon it, especially if this guy was playing silly relationship games and I was just enjoying the flattery.
The fallout after we called it quits, which I was pretty sure we most likely would, could shatter me and my heart if I wasn’t careful.
“A single mom with a Cabriolet Porsche?” he said, opening the door and grabbing the seat out. “Damn, gorgeous, I like you more and more.”
“Of course me having a sports car would turn your ass on,” I eyed his shit-eating grin as he went about securing the car seat in the back seat of Ash’s Range Rover.
“Damn right, that turns me on,” he said with a wink, moving out of the way so I could buckle Brandon in. “I dig a chick who sees value in cars.”
“I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m not into cars,” I said as we got into the two front seats and quickly headed out of the parking lot. Jace was not wasting any time, and I appreciated that. “My parents bought me that car as a graduation gift.”
“That’s fair,” he responded as he pulled onto the highway. “So, if you’re not into cars, what, may I ask, interests the one lady I haven’t been able to get out of my mind since we first met?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. Nothing, I guess?”
“You seemed to know about sailboats when I bought that painting. So, if you’re not into cars, maybe boats?”
I didn’t want to get into my love for sailboats and boating just yet, especially since this wasn’t a normal date. This was just my one-night stand offering to help me get my sick kid into the ER and hopefully on antibiotics.
“You know,” I said, skillfully sidestepping the whole boat topic, “this small talk between us is painfully weird.” I laughed, shaking my head. “We’re a perfect fit in bed, but when it comes to actual conversation? We’re a train wreck.”
“I have to agree with that,” he chuckled, his eyes skimming over me in that way that made my brain short-circuit. “So let’s skip the awkward part. Tell me something that actually interests you.”
“I…love small dogs,” I blurted, instantly regretting it.
He tilted his head, amusement flickering across his mouth.
Fantastic. Out of all the things in the universe, I went withsmall dogs. Not travel, not books, not anything remotely sexy or intriguing—nope. Just the verbal equivalent of beige paint. Icould practically feel myself shrinking under the weight of my own unoriginality.
“Small dogs are aninterestof yours?” he said with confusion.
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I can’t really think of anything.”
“That’s okay. Tell me about your love of small dogs,” he urged.
“That really was a lame thing for me to say, wasn’t it?” I laughed.
“Not at all,” he grinned. “But now I’m dying to know where this passion for tiny canines comes from.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “Well, my parents got me a Yorkie when I was little. It was mainly meant to be like a brother or sister to me since I was an only child.”
“That’s adorable,” he answered.
“I guess. She was a really sweet little thing named Roxy,” I smiled at the memory. “The downside of getting your little girl a dog is the heartbreak that goes along with losing them. Not great for a twelve-year-old to go through, you know?”
“No shit, especially if they purchased it to act as a sibling,” he said. “Do you ever think about getting another one?”
I looked at him, hearing some sincerity in his voice and liking it, “I hadn’t thought of it, but I think Brandon and I could have a lot of fun enjoying a cute little Yorkie.”
He laughed, “Well, I’m glad I could help. My only advice would be not to allow Brandon to see it as his sibling.”
“Excellent point,” I answered, glancing back at my son, who was sound asleep in the back of the car. “So, now that we have myinterestsin small dogs discussed and out of the way, what are your interests, Dr. Stone? Outside of medical science and work, of course.”
“I think you already have a clue,” he answered, smiling at me. “Sailboats. I love getting out on the open sea, allowing the wind to catch the sails and hearing nothing but waves, the boatslicing through the choppy waters, and feeling the salty wind in my hair.”
I knew exactly what he was talking about, and for a second, it made me yearn to be out on one of Dad’s boats doing precisely that. I wished I felt comfortable communicating that with this man, but something told me now wasn’t the right time.
“Oh, yeah?” I tried to play dumb.
