Chapter Forty-One
Chapter
Forty-One
Beulah
Stone’s vehicle was parked outside, but Presley’s was gone. I’d be lying if I wasn’t relieved that she was gone. But it also reminded me about my eavesdropping this morning. After the day I’d had that lapse in moral conduct had been forgotten. I would need to apologize for it.
Taking my time I headed inside and up the stairs. When I reached the second floor, the door to the apartment opened, and a tall, willowy brunette stepped out. Exotic, with flawless features was the only way to describe her face. She yawned as if she was just waking up at seven in the evening. The hot pink spandex shorts and matching crop top she wore showcased her equally perfect body. Her long thick hair was pulled up high in a ponytail. The unique color of her hazel eyes locked on me and she paused,
“Guess you’re the one I should be thanking,” she said, propping her incredibly long leg up on the wall and stretching.
“Excuse me?” I replied not sure I heard her correctly.
She glanced at me and then touched her nose to her knee. “You’re Beulah, correct?”
I paused. Then nodded before realizing she wasn’t looking at me to see my response. “Yes,” I verbalized.
She switched legs and continued the stretching. “You got the crazy bitch out of here. We all owe you a big fucking thank you.”
I didn’t know if this was Chantel or Fiona, but I knew they were the two that leased this apartment from Stone. I was good at remembering names. I’d just never met either of them. I’d also assumed they were friends with Presley based on the way she talked about them the first day I arrived. Since Presley was the one that was gone, I was confused,
“I didn’t do anything, it was Stone. They argued,” I explained, deciding it was rude to ask who she was since she obviously knew who I was.
The girl dropped her leg and began bending her waist with her hands over her head, this time looking directly at me. “They had arguments, fights, she stormed out sobbing most nights he actually came home. But this is the first time she packed her shit and left. You’re here. That makes this your doing. Claim it as a victory. We all credit you.”
I didn’t know who “all” referred to. I also didn’t have a thing to do with Presley’s leaving. Unless you take into account that she thought I was sleeping with Stone. But lots of women had slept with Stone. I shouldn’t have been the one that sent her packing. Especially since I had not, in fact, slept with Stone.
The door behind her swung open, and a familiar face that took me a moment to recognize appeared. “Do you have tampons?” she asked, her gaze swinging from the girl to me. She straightened and stepped out the door as recognition slowly came on her face. She pointed. “Jasper’s maid,” she said, her eyes wide.
“Jesus, Shay. Fucking rude,” the girl muttered. “This is the one who got rid of Presley.”
Shay’s eyes began to smile as her mouth joined in. “No shit! That was you! I knew I liked you. Not that we talked very much. I had no pants on, it was early, and I was hungover and late for work. Great party, though.”
“Ignore my little sister. She’s not the best with words,” the girl tossed her ponytail back over her shoulder and gave me a bored look that I imagined made her money. “I’m Fiona. This is Shay, my sister, and a regular house crasher.”
Shay rolled her eyes. “Not that I like crashing here. The two of you don’t eat actual food. I’d starve if it weren’t for Marty and Mack.”
“Whatever. I need to run,” Fiona’s tone was slightly annoyed.
“Why? Did you eat too many carrots today? God knows you need to run that shit off.”
“Stop being a dick. Wouldn’t hurt you to get in a run. The cookies and chips you’ve been eating aren’t doing you any favors,” Fiona called out as she ran down the stairs.
Shay flicked her middle finger up. “Skinny bitch!”
I stayed paused. Unsure if it was polite to leave now.
Shay smirked at me. “So, let’s talk about you being Jasper Van Allan’s maid then moving on in with mister broody, hot and sexy upstairs. Please teach me your ways,” she said wiggling her eyebrows.
I felt my face heat. “It isn’t like that,” I assured her. It had been with Jasper though. I left that part out.
The smile on her face made it clear she didn’t believe me. I didn’t want Stone hearing that anyone thought it was that way either. He’d think I said something that made them believe it then correct me again on my place in this world.
“I’d offer you food, but they seriously have nothing unless you consider kale, lemon, and quinoa food. And I haven’t got a clue how to cook that quinoa shit. But I was about to go down to Mack and Marty’s. They have the best snacks. Marty brings home fresh donuts from the place by the fire station he works at.”
She had let it drop so I decided to as well. Perhaps she was joking and knew better. She was aware how out of my league Stone was.
“I ate before I left work but thank you. It was nice to see you again,” I told her.
She nodded. “Yeah. Same. Thanks for getting rid of the bitch. She was insane. I don’t live here, but I’m here enough to dread seeing her. I caught her with Dan in his study one afternoon when I first started working for the Elswoods. I never said anything, but I haven’t been a fan of hers since. Claire isn’t the warmest or most likable woman on the earth or in a room of ten people, but no one deserves to be cheated on. I keep my distance from Dan,” she grinned. “Anyway, too much info, I’m sure. Have a good night. I need to get sustenance before I pass out.”
“Yeah, you too,” I replied awkwardly as she jogged down the stairs toward Marty and Mack’s apartment. I really hoped none of them thought I was with Stone like she had teased. Stone would hate it. I climbed the last flight of stairs as that thought bothered me.
Staring at the door a moment before opening it I found myself wishing I had gone with Shay downstairs to give Stone more time to himself. I decided I’d walk inside quietly and go to my room. He was free of Presley now and I was sure he was enjoying his peace. I wouldn’t intrude on that. I could apologize for this morning later.
Garlic, butter and heaven met my nose as I stepped inside. Closing the door softly behind me, I glanced toward the kitchen and heard classic rock playing over the sound system. I wasn’t shocked that Stone could cook. I was starting to believe there was little that he couldn’t do. Still, I had a hard time picturing him over a stove or wearing oven mits. A grin tugged at my lips at the image that had formed in my head and I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing. Not that he could hear me over his music if I did.
I turned and headed down the hallway just as Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird” started playing. I liked his taste in music but again not something I would have thought he listened to. My mom had loved Lynyrd Skynyrd. I had memories dancing in the kitchen with her and Heidi to that very song. Mom singing into the wooden spoon as if it were a microphone.
“It’s rude to not even come say hello. And here I am in the kitchen slaving over the stove making our dinner.” Stone’s deep voice carried down the hallway.
I spun back around to see him standing in the entryway wearing a white apron tied around his waist, a black t-shirt and faded jeans holding a glass of whiskey in his hand. His tanned bare feet completed the image. My words faltered as I stared at him. He was different. The tension in his shoulders was absent. There was no clenched jaw, or scowl on his face. This was Stone relaxed, and that was as out of character as it was attractive. Maybe attractive wasn’t a strong enough word. He was striking, breathtaking, much like Fiona had been in her running gear. Except Fiona hadn’t left me speechless. I struggled to form words. Say something as he stared at me over the rim of his glass as he took a drink.
I cleared my throat. “I, uh, I didn’t know you were cooking for me. I thought…you might be celebrating your evening of peace.”
His laugh was a deep husky sound that made a small tingle run through me. Not good, Beulah. Bad. Very bad.
“Oh, I’m celebrating a Presley free space. But I don’t bother to cook pierogi for just myself. That shit’s too damn hard.”
I had no idea what pierogi was, but it smelled delicious. I’d made a tomato mozzarella salad with grilled chicken for dinner at Geraldine’s. We’d sat on the back patio and enjoyed our meal while she told me stories of Stone and Jasper’s childhood. The happy kind of stories. The ones that made us laugh although my guilt had grown a little more with each one. I hated that I was the cause of their fight today. Listening to her talk about them had been impossible to resist regardless how it affected me.
I wasn’t going to tell him I’d eaten. This week alone, Stone had helped me and saved me repeatedly. He had also insulted me more than once and made sure I knew my place in his world, but he had been there when I had no one. If he was cooking for me then I could eat a second dinner. At this point, if he asked me to walk a tightrope from one building to the next, I would have a hard time telling him no. I would, of course, tell him no because I had a recurring dream of falling from a tightrope to my death. But I would feel bad about not doing it.
“Thank you. I should be the one cooking you dinner. You had a rough morning, and then you had to deal with the situation at Geraldine’s. I’m causing problems for you.”
He lowered his glass and held my gaze. “Jasper is my best friend. I’ve been pulling him out of shit since we were kids. He’s emotional, and I’m not. Today wasn’t about you, it was about him. This…is about him,” Stone said, staring at me. His gaze locked on mine. “Don’t feel as if you owe me anything. Except to eat the meal I slaved over.” He finished his last sentence with a softer, almost teasing lilt to his voice.
I didn’t want to think about the seriousness of his words. I’d come to expect Stone’s brutal honesty. He gave me security and feeling indebted to him could lead to other thoughts. Things that would never happen. He was protecting Jasper. None of it was because of me. It was just that the man was exactly like Shay had described him- Broody, hot and sexy. It got in the way sometimes.
Stone was not opening his arms for me to find comfort in no matter what anyone else in this building seemed to think was happening between us. If I wasn’t important to Jasper, then Stone wouldn’t have helped me like this.
“Thank you for making dinner,” I replied simply.
“You’re welcome. You gave me a reason to cook. I’ve missed it.”
Jasper had given him a reason to cook. That thought popped up so quickly that it almost sounded bitter in my head. I put a hand on that thought mentally and squished it down. Clearly, I was letting my emotions get all warped and confused. I’d had such strong feelings for Jasper, and they’d all be ripped away so quickly. My raw, needy emotions were blurring the lines, confusing things.
“Get comfortable. It’ll be a few more minutes. Dinner here isn’t a formal thing. I’m barefoot, and the table out on the balcony won’t have a tablecloth on it. Wear whatever you want.”
With that, he walked back to the kitchen. I waited until he was gone before letting out a sigh. From day one, Stone had made me uncomfortable, nervous, and angry. The relief, gratefulness, and odd flutter in my chest at the sight of him now, mixed with those other emotions, was making this all too complicated. If I could just stop that damn flutter. I was good at adjusting. I was a fighter. But this…this was different. Fighting my attraction for a man I did not want to be attracted to was not something I had experience in.
Stone wasn’t the kind of man a woman should get attached to because he lacked emotion. Unless he was looking at Geraldine. Or when he allowed his stepsister to drive him crazy because she had no home. Or when he stepped in time and time again to save Jasper from causing himself any pain or harm. Other than that…he was without emotion.
Frowning at my train of thought, I went into the bedroom and dropped my purse on the bed before changing into a pair of black leggings and an oversized gray sweatshirt that said Ireland across the front in green. I’d bought it for one dollar at a thrift store three years ago. It was one of my favorite comfort pieces.
Deciding I too would go barefoot, I made my way toward the kitchen. The music had been turned off by the time I arrived. Pity, I had enjoyed hearing the songs that reminded me of a happier time in my life.
Stepping inside the kitchen, my gaze immediately went to Stone. He was filling a plate with what looked like a pasta dumpling and salad. His gaze lifted to mine, and a pleased smile touched his lips. “I think it turned out good. I’ll let you be the judge of that, though. Haven’t made these in a few years. They were one of Gerry’s favorites when I was a kid. She taught me to make them.”
Again, when he said her name, I could clearly hear the love in his voice. I couldn’t say Stone was always as impenetrable as his name suggested. When he allowed his softer side to show if only for a moment it was powerful.
“It smells delicious,” I assured him.
“You ever had pierogi?” he asked, setting one plate down and picking up the second one. His eyes were still on me.
“No,” I admitted.
“Good,” he said as he finished preparing the plate. “You won’t have anything to compare it to. Less pressure on me.”
“If it taste as good as it smells, I’m sure it’ll be wonderful. Can I help you do something?”
“Wine. I usually have a chardonnay with pierogi carbonara. A sauvignon blanc is good too. But stay away from reds. Never enjoyed the combination.”
I had no idea how to choose wine. Even when I was told what kind to choose, they were all the same to me. But I didn’t say as much. Instead, I went to the large wine rack beside his bar and looked for either of the two wines he’d mentioned. I figured I’d go with the first I found. Different wineries meant little to me.
Glancing at the wines, I only saw reds. Then I remembered that the Van Allans kept their whites in a wine cooler thing. I checked for one and found it behind what appeared to be an elaborate cabinet door. The chilled white wines lined the racks inside. I quickly found a chardonnay, pulled it out, and met Stone in the doorway. Both his hands were full. “Glasses and the wine opener are already on the table. Take it out there. I’m right behind you.”
I started to turn when his eyes went to the bottle, and he chuckled.
I glanced at the bottle, wondering what I’d done that was amusing. When he didn’t say anything else, I looked at him. “What’s wrong? You did say chardonnay?” I began wondering if I’d heard him correctly.
“Yes. I did. And you chose the cheapest bottle. It also happens to be my favorite. I’ve never had a female pick that bottle out. Most go for the Montrachet or the Coche-Dury Corton-Charlemagne.”
He could have been speaking a different language for all that meant to me. I could act like I knew wines but he liked honesty. I had no reason to try and impress this man. His judgement of me was already firmly in place.
“I just grabbed the first chardonnay I found.”
He chuckled some more. “Well, you’d have found five more bottles of the one you’re holding right now. I buy a bottle every time I go to Target.”
Target? Stone went to Target? “Really?” I asked, wondering if he was making a joke.
“Yes. Seems to be the only place in town that has it. I try to grab a bottle when I’m close by.”
The idea of Stone shopping at Target made me grin.
“Something funny?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yes. You shopping at Target.”
He smirked then. “I like a good cake pop from Starbucks while I’m there too. Want to laugh about that?”
I did. I laughed loudly. I didn’t mean to, but I did. Stone with a Starbucks cake pop was hilarious. When I finally regained composure, I wiped the tears from my eyes and smiled at him. He was watching me. His expression was one I couldn’t read and was so brief; it was there for a moment, then gone. If it hadn’t been for the damn flutter in my stomach, I would have thought I imagined it all together.