Casting Stones (Stones Duet #1) (13 page)

She nods distractedly and says, “Yes.” She then looks at me with what can only be described as apologetic eyes. “Shane—”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! I’m absolutely positive.”

“Okay,” I nod my head. “What do you want to do after dinner?” I ask, pulling her away from her private thoughts.

“I’m not sure. We could go to a movie, I guess.” Her petite shoulders shrug. She laughs as she asks if that’s what most people do after dinner.

“You sound like you’ve never been on a date,” I snicker.

“No comment.”

I raise my eyebrows in challenge. “So you really want to go to a movie?”

The last thing I want to do is sit quietly in a dark theater. I want to talk to her and get to know her better. Maybe I’ll be able to understand the mixed messages she’s sending my way.

My stomach growls loudly and I laugh when her eyebrows rise up.

“Hungry?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Why do you do that?” her usually sweet voice snaps at me.

“What did I do?” I respond quickly, sounding defensive.

“You keep saying ‘I’m good or I’m fine,’” she air quotes, “when it’s obvious that you’re not.” She huffs with annoyance. “You were mad last night. You were thirsty before and now you’re hungry.”

“Listen, I skipped breakfast. It’s not like I’m going to die. Go six days in the desert sharing a few MREs with a couple of barely legal soldiers who are used to eating their mothers out of house and home; then we can talk about being hungry.”

“I just don’t get why guys aren’t forthright. Just say what’s on your mind. You don’t have to lie about it.”

I tip my chin toward her phone and ask if her phone is charged today.

I can tell I’ve made her slightly uncomfortable by the way she shifts nervously in her seat and avoids looking at me. But let’s be real, if she’s going to talk the talk, then she damn well better walk the walk.

“I am sorry about that. I’ve just got some things going on right now.” She hangs her head after checking the time on her phone. “I gotta go.”

I stand when she does and wonder where she’s going. As if she could read my mind, she tells me that she’s going to meet her advisor. She tosses her book and water bottle into the backpack and secures it in place before she mounts her bike. I carefully inspect the bike that looks like it should’ve been junked years ago.

“Is this thing going to make it home?”

“Are you making fun of my bike? That is so wrong!” she chuckles, starting to pedal away before circling back around to me, stopping short of hitting me. I grab the handle bars and hold her in place. Pools of emerald green stare at me as I stare at her. My gaze drops to her mouth as the thought of kissing her again becomes increasingly tempting; I crave another taste. Her tongue peeks through a small opening of her mouth and she licks her lips. Keeping my eyes focused on hers, I move in slowly, closing the gap between us and I brush my lips along the side of her mouth and onto her cheek before stopping at her ear, “I’ll see you at seven.” If I were keeping score, I’d say her needy moan would be at least five points in my favor.

With a hard dick and a smile on my face, I watch her ride away before I run through the busy streets back to my apartment and take matters into my own hands.

“SHANE, I HOPE
you meet someone nice there. You need to forget about her,” my sister Leslie rambles on and on. “Let her go. I’ve heard he’s back and they’re working it out…I think she’s pregnant.”

My forehead hits the door with a loud thump as I think about how he treated her. He left her broken-hearted and now she might be having a kid with him. I wonder if he’s going to stick around or leave again. What an asshole!

I clear my throat. “Les, I’m over her. I just hate to see her sad. She deserves so much more. You don’t know all the shit she’s dealt with over the years. Seriously, I just want to see her happy.”

“I know little brother, I know.” A moment of awkward silence passes by. I don’t think my sister truly believes I’m over her. “When are you coming to see your nieces?”

“When the stomach bug is gone!”

“Turns out Dale accidentally gave them old yogurt. They’re fine now.”

“How did the idiot not know it was old?” I grind my teeth thinking about how irresponsible and useless the man is.

My sister ignores my question. “You wouldn’t believe how fast the baby is growing.”

This is typical of my sister. She talks about all the happy stuff and forgoes all the crap she’s dealing with because of her loser husband.“What’s he up to anyway?”

“The same. He’s fighting the divorce. He said he’s sorry and that he won’t do it again.”

“And you believe that load of shit?” I pace the floor and stop when there’s a knock on the front door. I walk over and see Collin standing there, carrying a small bag of groceries and a gallon of chocolate milk. “Well, don’t believe him. You know what they say, ‘Once a cheater always a cheater.’” I take the gallon of milk and put it away. I think about the advice I’ve given my sister. That saying might be true for most people, but I learned from my mistake. I will never cheat again. It wasn’t worth what I lost or the pain I caused. “I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

Collin and I spend the rest of the day shooting the breeze, reminiscing about our days as soldiers and the girls of Boston. Everything was good until he said there was something about Remy he thought was off. He called it a gut feeling; he didn’t think I should trust her.

Shortly before seven, I leave the train beneath the city, climb the flight of stairs and walk the few blocks to the diner. I spot an older woman selling flowers out of a five gallon bucket.

“I’ll take these.” I pick out a small bouquet wrapped in clear cellophane before I hand her bill.

“Ahhh…the color of sunshine,” the woman says with a wide smile. I can’t help but look at the gaps where teeth should be. I don’t understand how people in America don’t take care of themselves. All you have to do is open your palm for a handout. It’s the American way for some.

“I hope she likes them,” she calls out as I turn to leave.

From across the street, I see Remy immediately. She looks beautiful dressed in a coral sundress that stops just above her knees. She looks down at her phone as she switches her bent leg and leans against the brick building. She glances up and then turns away. She does a double take when she realizes it’s me. Her glossy lips pull into a wide grin that spreads across her face even though her eyes are covered by large dark sunglasses.

There’s something about the way she looks just standing there, waiting for me which surprises me. With an extra bounce in my step, I take a deep breath, feeling taller and more confident than I have in a long time, and press the button several times. Anxiously with some eagerness, I wait for the walk signal and cross the busy street with a group of Chinese tourists. I break away from the pack and peek into the closed diner before looking at her.

“Excuse me. Can you help me? I’m looking for a petite blonde about this tall with a killer body? Have you seen her?”

“Haha! Very funny!” She slaps my arm playfully. “Dress or no dress I’ll kick your ass!”

“Whoa! You look great!” I offer a huge grin as I decide to take a chance by leaning in and kissing her soft cheek. I inhale the skin at her jaw line. She smells fresh and clean.
And I’m sure she tastes even better.

“Thank you.”

“These are for you.” I hand over the bouquet of flowers.

She lifts her glasses and sets them on top of her head, looking at me incredulously. “Wow! Thanks. That was really… sweet of you to get me flowers. Sunflowers are my favorite.”

“What?” I shriek with mock devastation. “Oh no! I can’t have you thinking that!” I wink at her. She rolls her eyes and begins to walk away toward the subway station. Of course, I follow her.

When we arrive at the Sushi Bar, we are greeted and seated within minutes even though the line is out the door. I’m glad I made reservations. We decide to order a few different things and share them. I look at her questioningly when only after four rolls she pats her flat stomach and declares herself to be full. Immediately, I think of
her
and her huge appetite. I think about the times we would drink a pitcher of beer and share a whole pizza.

“You hardly ate anything,” I argue, feeling annoyed that she’s one of
those
girls who worries about what she eats. If you’re hungry, then eat.

“One moment on the lips, forever on the hips.”

“What are you talking about?” She’s got a beautiful body with curves in all the right places and perfect tits.

“I had food issues growing up,” she states seriously before her mouth slips into a grin.

“Oh,” is the only thing I say because I can’t tell if she’s joking or not so I don’t push the issue.

“How about we split the last one?” I pick it up, carefully trying to keep the rice in as I dip it into the sauce.

She looks at the roll, nods and takes it out of my hand. With one quick move, she bites almost the whole thing, leaving just what’s in between her fingers.

“Here,” she offers.

I lean across the table and open my mouth, wondering if she’ll play along.Her eyes dance with mischief as she smiles and places the tiny piece on my tongue. I close my lips around her fingers and let my tongue glide around her fingertips.

I grin as I swallow the miniscule bite. “That wasn’t half.”

“I was never good at fractions,” she says as she pops her fingers into her mouth and slowly licks off the remainder of the tangy sauce.

After our bill is settled, Remy excuses herself to the restroom. I wait by the hostess stand for her. I see her side step a big guy who’s just left the bar as he barrels down the hallway toward the men’s room. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I see him push his body into hers, pinning her against the wood-paneled wall. I hear his menacing laughter and my blood begins to boil. With fire in my heels, I rush to her and shove the guy away from her.

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

“Yo, chill bro.” He raises his arms in surrender. “I thought she was someone else.”

“She’s not whoever you thought she was. And even if she were, she didn’t look to fucking happy to have you on her.” Adrenaline spikes in me, my words spit like venom.

“Shane,” her panicked voice brings me back to reality. “I’m fine. Let’s get out of here, okay?”

“Keep your fucking hands to yourself. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?” I glare at him, taunting him so I’d have an excuse to punch him in the face. Another guy comes over and asks if there’s a problem. I wait for his response.

“Nah, it’s all good. White boy here’s got a little temper. ”

I stare after him until he’s behind the restroom door.

I feel Remy’s hand slide over my arm as rests in the crook of my elbow that’s exposed by my polo shirt. Immediately, I’m soothed.

“You’re trembling.” Her free hand rubs along my other arm as we face each other.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” I hear her reassuring words on repeat, but I can’t stop the pounding in my chest. I lift my hand to caress her face. “I thought he was going to hurt you.”

She smiles. “I’m not as fragile as you think.”

A single eyebrow shoots up, challenging her.

“I fight dirty.” She laughs as she links her arm in mine and leads me out of the restaurant as the late summer sky turns shades of orange, pink and purple. It reminds me of long, hot days in the desert.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Where to next?” I ask when I’ve gotten myself back under control.

“This way,” again she leads me in an unfamiliar direction, away from the hustle and bustle of the theater district. She brings the flowers to her nose and inhales.

“Did Jenna tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“That I love sunflowers.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Soft sounds of acoustic music floats through the air when we pass a small park where a few young musicians have gathered to play. She closes her eyes and nods her head keeping in rhythm with the music as she moves from side to side. She’s mesmerizing and I find myself fascinated by her. It’s as if she’s the only one here, alone in her own little world.

“You like to dance.” I state, thinking how sexy she is.

Her eyes flash open, “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘You like to dance.’”

“No, I don’t.” She answers matter-of-factly, but then she whispers, “In fact, I hate it” so softly that I’m sure I’ve misheard.

“That’s too bad. Looks like you’ve got some really good moves,” I look behind her and appreciate her ass.

“What are you doing?” she inquires, pursing her lips tightly.

“Checking out your moves.”

“Well, just so you we’re clear I’m not dancing. I’m
swaying
.” Her laughter makes me laugh, too.

We lower ourselves on the concrete curb that divides the walking area from the grass. Her tanned legs jut out as she kicks off her flat shoes, revealing cute toenails painted a shade of blue my five-year-old niece would like. She sets the flowers down and reaches back to rest on her extended arms. The thin straps on her shoulders stretch to accommodate the swell of her chest. I feel like a thirteen-year-old looking at his first Playboy magazine as I peek over every few minutes to catch a glimpse of her cleavage. She’s either oblivious or doesn’t mind my roaming eyes.