Page 89 of A Reluctant Boy Toy
Stone had clothes laid out for me when I returned from the bathroom. I could wear oversize T-shirts but anything with long sleeves was impossible to get over the fat bandages on my left arm, plus I needed the sling. Stone helped with those and then held my jeans while I stepped into them. He did up the zip and fastened the button. Since I’d been wearing sweats and tanks for days, the chance to wear real clothes was practically a dream come true.
“I’m never taking long sleeves for granted again,” I said as he slipped my belt through all the loops and buckled it.
Each item of clothing provided an excuse for him to brush his fingers over my skin. Caress my neck and shoulders. Slide his hands over my hips.
“Gimme your foot.”
He kneeled and ran his fingers up my calf. He slipped socks onto my feet and helped me work my boots on and laced them for me. For warmth he gave me one of his hoodies. My right arm went through the sleeve fine and, because it was Stone’s, it was big enough to zip over the sling.
“Ah, see? I thought that hoodie would work. I have a lightweight puffer that will be perfect over it. You’ll be warm and toasty outside.”
It hadn’t bothered me to let Molly help me dress. Stone was different. The exquisite care with which he undertook each act of kindness exposed my soft underbelly. I’d given up on finding a man who wanted to take care of me because that longing made me vulnerable to predators and fakes. But God almighty, the gentle, caring way Stone looked at me was a belly-dropping thrill, one of those carnival rides that spins you round and round until the bottom falls away underneath your feet.
Stone seemed so relaxed and happy at home. He’d obviously made some kind of peace with himself. He acted like he had all the time in the world for me—as if the only thing he wanted was someone like me to care about. I loved being the focus of his attention. I couldn’t take my eyes off him in return.
“Here.” He picked up a basket by the doorway. “I’ve got our breakfast. We can eat on the porch and then go explore.”
Outside, the cold punched my lungs. My breath misted the air.
“This is my favorite time of day,” Stone said as he laid out muffins, oatmeal, and coffee. “I love to eat out here, even in the winter. We even see a deer or two sometimes, and it’s magical.”
“Really?” I wanted to see one.
“All the canine scent-marking normally keeps them away, but every now and again one will wander by. I figure they got turned around somehow or something even worse than a canine chased them here. As soon as the dogs bark, they take off running. Then I have to check all the fences to see how it got in.”
“You sound like a cowboy.”
“Blame Taggart.” Stone handed me a much-needed travel mug of coffee, though the cold air helped clear away my painkiller sleep fog.
Was this why morning people got up so early?
Dawn had barely cracked the horizon in the east. Overhead, the sky had gone from inky black to violet. Stars twinkled faintly, holding onto the last measures of the night.
In that cold, blue ambient light, wind made music through the trees.
“I meant to ask if you have binoculars.” I accepted the muffin Stone gave me. “I’d love to get eyes on some of the birds I keep hearing.”
“I do.” He broke open a second muffin. I stared helplessly as he licked crumbs off his fingers. “Want me to get them now?”
“Uh…If it’s not too much trouble.” Those fingers were all I could think about. I wanted to suck their flavor onto my tongue too. Finally able to move my gaze to his eye, I found it twinkling with humor.
“Trouble is your middle name, isn’t it?” He leaned across the tiny table and kissed me thoroughly, only to leave me sitting dazed all by myself. A few minutes later he came back with a battered leather case.
“These binoculars used to belong to my grandfather.”
“I shouldn’t—”
“It’s all right. He’d want you to use them.”
“If you’re sure.” I ate my carrot muffin. Stone managed to feed me oatmeal, which I swallowed with a grimace. “I haven’t eaten oats once since I could hold a spoon.”
“You don’t like it?” He looked crestfallen. “I could get you something else. Cold cereal?”
“This is fine.” I pasted on a smile. “I’ll eat what you made for me.”
“Oatmeal is extremely good for you.” He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the inside of my wrist. “I want you healthy.”
“Okay.” Must have been the ambiance or the way his gaze held me spellbound, but I wanted to live up to my words that I’d eat whatever he cooked. So I ate the rest of the oatmeal and some moist, hot raisins—guh—without complaint.
