Page 58 of Stone
“Some guy, huh?”
“Yep. Some big, strong, handsome man who once swept me off my feet.”
“Let me at him. I’ll kill him.” He issued a primal howl, even tipping his head back on purpose. We were standing in the middle of a parking lot with several businesses surrounding us, people roaming everywhere and he couldn’t care less. The flip in his personality was encouraging and annoying. “No other man has the right to touch my girl.”
“Your girl, huh?”
As if to prove a point, he gathered me into his arms, cradling me as if a baby doll while carrying me toward the Jeep.
“Since I was a good girl at the doctor’s, do I get some ice cream?” I pointed toward the outside ice cream stand that was alive with activity.
His laugh was boisterous, another reminder of the man he’d once been. “What the heck? Why not.”
I’d be damned if he didn’t carry me all the way to the stand, even holding me while we stood in line.
“Hey, Stone,” one of the customers said.
“Hey, Emilie. Tell Dirk the new board is fucking spectacular,” Stone answered.
“I will.”
Another guy waved as he walked past, his friendly face not based on the habit of neighbors greeting neighbors out of politeness. “Just who are you?” I asked.
He peered down at me quizzically. “Last time I checked I wasn’t an alien. What do you mean?”
“Everyone knows you. Everywhere we go.”
“Small island.”
“Bad liar.”
His chuckle was deep and far too enticing.
“You can put me down now.” I wiggled in his arms.
“Not a chance. I know how you are.”
I pounded my fist against his chest, but he wasn’t budging. The people around us were gawking and he wasn’t fazed in the least. Even with the eyes of the young girl standing behind the counter bugged out of her head.
“What would you like?” she asked, almost a little too timidly. Well, it obviously wasn’t every day a big strapping man carried a woman to get ice cream.
I opened my mouth to order and he placed his finger across my lips. “The lady will have two scoops of vanilla with sprinkles, Reese’s Pieces, and gummy bears. I’ll have a?—”
“Plain cone with one scoop of pistachio ice cream,” I interrupted.
“Make that two scoops.”
As the girl moved away to fix our order, he peered down at me. I must have one of those incredulous looks on my face with the way his mouth twisted.
“What? I’m a growing boy.”
“You remembered the way I like my ice cream,” I said a little more quietly than I’d intended.
“So did you. I told you. I remember everything.”
Everything. A girl could swoon from the word alone.
Shrugging, he had to struggle to grab his wallet from his pocket. I took it from his hand when he almost dropped it twice. “Let me do that.” He had a wad of cash and when I pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, he grinned. “You don’t have anything smaller?”
