20. Chapter 20
Chapter 20
O ne week later, a week in which Stone had started acting uber-professional toward Sophie, she sat at the corner bar down the street from her apartment with Donna.
“Thanks for meeting me at the last minute,” Sophie said, her voice betraying some of her turmoil.
Stone sat at a table across the room, scanning the surroundings with professional vigilance and occasionally staring at her. She knew this because every time she checked on him, their gazes met.
On the one hand, she was reassured knowing he took his job so seriously. On the other, it was a bit much. Her apartment had become a fortress. She now had a front door camera. This allowed her to, via an app on her phone, look to see who was there without placing her body in front of the door to check the peephole.
Also, the front door now possessed a triple lock system, and the patio doors were double locked with a bully stick in the sliders. Her place had a state-of-the-art alarm, and Poppie’s place had been outfitted the same way.
“Tell me what’s going on and don’t leave out any of the details,” Donna said.
“I’m in a real reading slump,” Sophie confessed. “Ever since I started hunting for real-life boyfriends for the column, my usual reads just don’t captivate me anymore. It’s like I can’t dive into any story.”
“Maybe you should try a different genre for a while.”
“Like what?”
“A thriller, maybe? Something edgy and intense to shake things up,” Donna suggested, her eyes lighting up with the idea. “It could be a refreshing change from the usual romance and might just jolt your system.”
“Hmm. That’s a great idea,” Sophie mused. “And maybe I could rope Stone into reading it, too. It might give us something more substantial to talk about during our mostly silent meals.”
“I take it things are still strained?” Donna asked.
“I miss our fun, flirtatious conversations. Lately, he’s been determined to keep me at arm’s length. He even tried to get me to ask one of my interviewees out on a date instead of featuring the candidate in a column.”
“Interesting.”
“Maybe from where you sit. From where I sit, it’s annoying.”
Donna leaned forward, placed her elbows on the table, and cupped her chin in her hands. “What happened right before this switch in him? Can you pinpoint the moment he went quiet?”
Sophie thought. “It was right after I confessed to him that my preferred fantasy trope guy is a guy like him.”
“The plot thickens,” Donna said.
“How?” Sophie asked.
“He’s showing signs of a guy who is scared and is in retreat mode.”
“If he’s afraid of anything, it’s that I’m going to fall in love with him, and he doesn’t want to have to deal with that.”
“If that’s the case, the guy’s an idiot. You’d be the best thing that ever happened to him.” Donna glanced Stone’s way and waved.
He jerked his chin upward in response.
Sophie’s phone vibrated against the wooden bar. She swiftly answered the unknown number. “Hello. This is Sophie E. Clark. May I ask who’s calling?” She hoped it was one of the prospective book boyfriends, ready to confirm an interview. Another step forward in her quest.
Silence greeted her. “Hello. Can you hear me?” Sophie repeated, frustration creeping into her voice. The lack of response was annoying, given her tight schedule.
Nothing.
She glanced down, the screen dark and unresponsive. “Must have hit the off button by mistake,” she muttered, though a niggle of doubt lingered—had she charged it last night? Shrugging the whole thing off, she refocused on Donna. “Sorry about that. Now, where were we?”
“You’re going to change your reading habits so you can find common ground with a guy who has changed the way he dresses to please you but doesn’t like you in a boyfriend way.”
“His new wardrobe was necessary for him to fit in during my interviews. It has nothing to do with him secretly trying to impress me, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
Donna leaned in. “Speaking of fitting in, do you have candidates for all your boyfriend tropes? More specifically, do you have one on board who is willing to spill his secret to the woman who buys him at auction?”
Sophie groaned. “I’m still in search of that unicorn. I didn’t really think it through when I added it as one of my boyfriend tropes. Real guys don’t just give up their secrets for a good cause. But it’s too late to unring that boyfriend-trope bell, so I’m searching high and low for one.”
“What’s your backup if he doesn’t materialize?” Donna asked. “What trope will you use instead?”
“Backup plans imply doubt,” Sophie replied. “I refuse to harbor that stuff. I’ll find him, you just watch.” Her confidence was as much a shield as it was a spur driving her forward against the odds. Just as those who’d doubted her ability to make a living daydreaming had spurred her into proving them wrong.
Sophie’s phone buzzed again, breaking her train of thought. She grabbed it, hoping for a connection this time. “Hello, you’re speaking with Sophie E. Clark. To whom am I speaking?”
There was a brief silence, then nothing. Frustrated, Sophie tapped her phone, checking the signal. Dead again. “My off button must be trigger-happy.” A flush of irritation, joy riding right beneath her skin, made the room seem suddenly hot. She pulled at her shirt collar for air. “They’ll call back if it’s important. Now, where were we?” She resisted an urge to glance Stone’s way.
Donna tilted her head thoughtfully. “We were discussing the idea of you stepping outside your comfort zone with a thriller.”
“I have always been a bit intrigued with the genre. I mean, what’s not to love about a category that inspires James Bond-like characters?”
“It’s interesting you should say that,” Donna said. “I can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s a deeper lesson here.”
“Lesson?”
“Perhaps the unexpected—like Stone—could end up being what you really need, not just in your reading choices but in life.”
Sophie blinked, taken aback by Donna’s insight. She swirled the ice in her drink, considering. “You mean to suggest that someone as different as Stone might actually be good for me other than as a one-night stand?”
“Yes, exactly.” Donna’s voice rose with enthusiasm. “Think about it. Stone might be from a different world, but he’s shown dedication, he adapts quickly, and clearly, he cares about your safety. Aren’t those qualities valuable?”
Sophie chewed on her bottom lip, her gaze drifting toward Stone. He was now quietly speaking with the waiter, likely about security logistics, but his posture was relaxed, and there was a gentleness to his demeanor that she hadn’t noticed before. “Maybe,” she conceded softly to Donna, “but it’s not like he’s interested in the things I am. Our worlds barely connect. Heck, he goes out of the way to make sure we never touch.”
“Sophie, maybe it’s not about shared hobbies or even similar pasts. Maybe it’s about balance, about what you can learn from each other,” Donna argued gently, reaching out to touch Sophie’s hand. “You’re always writing about these ideal traits in your columns, but real relationships—those are built on complementing each other, not mirroring.”
The idea settled over Sophie like a soft shadow, intriguing yet intimidating. “I suppose you have a point. But how do I even begin to explore that? It’s not like I can just start treating him as a potential…anything. He’s here for a job.”
“Well…” Donna grinned before sipping her drink. “Maybe start small. Share that thriller with him. See how he reacts, not just to the genre shift but to the idea of the two of you sharing something he’s interested in.”
Sophie considered this, her mind racing with possibilities. The last time she’d tried to test the waters with him by asking him to meet for dinner, he’d shut her down hard. What if he did that again? The alternative was to continue to endure silent dinners with him. “I’ll think about it. It would be nice to once again discuss something deeper than our next meal.”
As they wrapped up their drinks, Sophie’s phone rang once more. Instead of raising it to her ear, she pushed the button to put the call on speaker. No way would she risk hanging up on whoever it was a third time. “Hello.”
“Is this Sophie?” a female voice asked.
“It is. And you are?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m calling to tell you to stay away from Oliver.”
The line went dead.
“That was rude,” Sophie said, frowning.
Donna nodded. “Really rude. Do you think it’s a jealous girlfriend he failed to mention?”
Sophie peeked at Stone, who happened to be glancing at them, his brow knitted as if he instinctively knew something unsettling had just happened. She gave him a small shake of her head so he wouldn’t come over.
He ignored her body language and approached. “Everything okay?”
“Not really,” Donna answered. “Some weird chick just called Sophie and told her to stay the hell away from Oliver.”
“Give me your phone,” Stone said in a tone just barely above freezing.
“This is not necessary,” Sophie said, as she handed it over.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” He held her phone up to her face to unlock.
“I’m telling you, it’s no big deal. Some girl likes Oliver and doesn’t want him featured.”
“Considering you’ve been threatened, I can’t ignore anything out of the usual.” He pushed a call button on his own phone. “Hey, Montgomery, I need you to trace a number.”
“Listen, hon, I’ve got an early morning tomorrow. I better scoot,” Donna said. “Give me a call tomorrow and let me know what Oliver has to say about this new development.”
“You’ve got it. Thanks for hanging out. I needed the girl time.”
“Remember what we talked about,” Donna said. “I can’t wait to see how that plays out.” She winked at Sophie and then sauntered away.
“Are you sure?” Stone was talking into the phone.
Sophie finished her drink while she waited for Stone to hang up.
When he did, his scowl was in full force. “The phone was a burner. Jealous girlfriends don’t usually go so far as to buy a burner phone to make a threat.”
“Sometimes they do.”
“Most of the time they don’t.” Stone caught the attention of the bartender. “Check, please.”