18. Chapter 18
Chapter 18
T he rich aroma of sizzling bacon and the gentle hiss of eggs coaxed Sophie out of sleep. Stretching languidly, she slipped into her house shoes and padded softly toward the kitchen, drawn by the comforting scents that now filled her small apartment.
As she rounded the corner, Sophie caught sight of Stone by the stove, dressed not in his usual attire but in what could only be described as his boyfriend outfit —a well-fitted T-shirt paired with a cozy cardigan that somehow cemented his role as the ideal cinnamon roll hero. Isabella had done superbly pulling together a quick wardrobe for him.
“Morning,” Stone said, his back still turned as he focused on the eggs. “Hope you're hungry.”
“Starving,” Sophie replied, her voice carrying a hint of the confusion she felt. When exactly had he changed? His go-bag was still in her bedroom. Had he been in there? Had he watched her sleep? The idea made her skin tingle. She couldn’t recall a time her skin had ever tingled. Weird.
She took a seat at the kitchen table, her gaze lingering on him. He was managing to appear every bit the part of a perfect partner, which only reminded her more of their differences.
Remember, he’s no longer your type. You have a new type. An improved type. A type who doesn’t hurt the one they love. A type so sweet authors no longer feel the need to have a breakup scene in a book when the hero is one of these types.
Stone placed plates heaped with breakfast on the table and finally sat down opposite her. “So, what’s on the agenda today?” he asked, picking up his fork.
Sophie bit her lip, considering how to approach the topic. “Well, we’re visiting the cinnamon roll guy I told you about—the one from my list.”
“The one you wrote a note about? ‘Do not fall in love?’” Stone raised his eyebrow in a teasing fashion.
Sophie chuckled, a blush heating her cheeks. “Yeah, that one.”
“Then his nomination came from a named source?” he asked, before taking a bite.
“It came from Jenna Carter, an employee at Naked Runway . I’ve never met her, but I was told she’s the editor of the lifestyle section. According to Isabella, Jenna has a keen eye for genuine people and stories that resonate deeply with the magazine’s audience.”
“And why did Jenna nominate the dude?” Stone asked.
“I don’t know all the details, but basically, she was touched by his story and community spirit when she met him while on an assignment.”
Stoned eyeballed her like she had a sign on her forehead that said liar . “So, what you’re not saying is that they dated, it didn’t work out, but she thinks he’ll be perfect for another woman.”
Sophie tried to look offended that he thought she’d lie by omission. She had simply not felt that part of the story was relevant. “Most of the nominees for this category have been made by exes.”
“Poor schmuck is now going to be labeled with this cinnamon roll nonsense and seriously hurt his chances of keeping his dude card at the local bar where he hangs out.”
“Oh, whatever,” she snapped. “Being a nice guy is the new James Bond. Women find them hot and lovable. It’s the perfect combination.”
He snorted. “It’s a safe bet he won’t ask you to prove we’re a couple by kissing me.”
“Exactly.” Sophie pushed around her eggs with her fork, the memory of that kiss leaving her all prickly. “Next time someone demands we kiss, I vote we just leave. No book hero would demand such of a couple.”
Stone cocked his head. “I bet one of those billionaire horndogs you plan to interview would. I mean if it were me, and I was feeling ornery, I’d demand a kiss. Not to prove some guy’s your boyfriend, but to prove I could take you from him if I wanted.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not all rich guys are assholes.”
“But we’re not talking about all of them. We’re talking about the ones you labeled players. They would.”
“Fine. Yes. They would. Bottom line, I’m done kissing any man during an interview.”
He shrugged. “Smart.”
As they continued eating, the light banter could not entirely mask the tension that had her neck in knots.
Sophie was acutely aware her life was in danger. Stone was not her boyfriend; he was her protector, and she had one month to find nine more book boyfriend candidates who were not only willing to be interviewed but also to stay single until after their feature was posted, not to mention participate in a bachelor’s auction.
Finishing her meal, Sophie cleared her throat. “I made you another shirt to wear today. Something that should help sell the boyfriend image even more.”
Stone’s smile was one of good-natured reluctance. “I’m almost afraid to ask what it says.”
“You’ll see. It’s perfect for today,” Sophie assured him with a playful wink. How weird was it that mixed in with all her apprehension, she still managed a healthy dose of excitement? Exhilaration for the task at hand. She got to spend the day looking for breathing book boyfriends. And excited to do so in the company of Stone. He intrigued her mind.
“If you say so,” Stone replied. “If the poor schmuck passes the initial gut-check test, what kind of questions do you plan to ask?”
“I’ve created a new and improved boyfriend questionnaire.” She picked up her juice and took a sip. “Do you want to take it?”
He sat his napkin on the table. “Why not?”
Sophie flipped open her notebook to a fresh page, her pen poised and ready. “Okay, let’s start easy. What does a perfect day look like for you?”
Stone considered the question, his brow furrowing. “A perfect day? It starts with no alarms. Then, maybe a long run in the early morning quiet when the city’s still asleep. After that, just a calm day—no surprises. Time to read something that isn’t a mission report or a romance novel, and maybe dinner at a place where no one knows my name or asks any questions. Simple and uneventful.”
Sophie noted his answer and chose not to comment on the romance novel dig. “All right, what do you value most in a relationship?”
“Efficiency,” Stone replied almost immediately, then chuckled at her look of horror. “Kidding. Trust, I guess. In my line of work, trust is everything. You can’t really get close to someone if you’re always wondering if they’re hiding something or lying to you. And I need someone I trust without hesitation. Even the slightest hesitation will have me bailing.”
Sophie filed away that response. She’d ponder it more later. “What are you passionate about?”
“That’s a tough one,” Stone admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I used to be passionate about a lot of things. Now? It’s more about making sure I do my job well. Protecting people who need it, ensuring that what needs to happen happens. It’s not about passion; it’s about duty.”
Sophie wrote down his answers, her smile waning slightly. How sad not to have a passion. She had lots of them. “Last question: Describe your ideal partner.”
Stone’s gaze drifted past Sophie as he appeared to consider his words. “That would be a waste of time, because she doesn’t exist.”
“Pretend she does. Describe her,” Sophie persisted, intrigued by the sureness in his voice.
He shrugged. “Someone who understands my life, the unpredictability of it, and the weight of what I do. They’d need to be strong—not just physically but emotionally. Someone who can watch me walk out the door every day knowing I might not come home. Someone who doesn’t need constant reassurance or can’t handle being alone sometimes. Someone who would never blurt out another’s secret.” He gave her a rueful smile. “As I said, my perfect woman doesn’t exist in reality. She’s a fairytale. Which is why I’m a confirmed bachelor.”
Sophie snorted.
“What?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It sounded like something,” he persisted.
“It’s just if I had a million for every time you’ve felt the need to remind me you’re a bachelor for life, I’d be able to buy up 5 th Avenue by now.”
He grimaced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was doing that.”
She closed her notebook. “No big deal. It’s not like I’m secretly vying for your heart. Why don’t I go grab that T-shirt for you?”
“Wait.” He reached out as if to touch her but then withdrew his hand. “What is your passion?”
Out of all the questions he could have asked her to bring a smile to her heart, it was that one. “That’s easy. The pursuit of happiness. The one thing the death of my parents taught me is that life is short. Take chances. Pursue the impossible. Embrace life—messiness and all.”
He nodded as if saying good one . But he said nothing, so she hopped up.
“Let me go change, and we can get our day started.”
Fifteen minutes later, she emerged from the bedroom. She wore an orange T-shirt that said Chapter One . “This one’s for you,” she said, tossing him his.
He glanced at it and laughed before slipping into the bedroom to change, not even bothering to argue.
“I like it when you do my bidding so easily,” she called out.
“Don’t get used to it,” he hollered back. “I don’t have a gooey middle. I’m steel through and through.”
And therein lay the problem. As she’d mentioned in one of their conversations. Men could be molded into perfect book boyfriend material, but they had to want to change. Unfortunately, those made of steel seldom did. “That’s really too bad,” she whispered to the closed door. He wouldn’t need to change much. He’d just need to be willing to risk loving someone.