When I woke again, it was to an empty bed.
The sharp pain that was triggered by trying to do anything earlier had mellowed into a dull ache. The nausea had subsided. What remained was a fair bit of dehydration.
I rolled my head to the side and noticed that Stone had already made a point to see to that. There was a glass of water on the bedside table. Beside it were two pills I assumed were ibuprofen.
After giving myself a few minutes to wake up, I downed both before getting out of bed. Since Stone hadn’t come back, I decided to head to my own room and get some fresh clothes. I was still in the dress I’d worn last night. Frankly, I felt disgusting. I was a shower-every-single-day type of girl, and it had officially been too long since my last.
The moment I stepped into the hall, I realized where I was. That being that I was in the room adjacent to my own. Stone had put me right next door to him, and I hadn’t even known. Realizing his space was so close only confirmed my suspicion that he hadn’t been sleeping here. If he had, there was no way I would have gone so long without so much as seeing him.
I hustled to my room, then across the hall to the bathroom. The hot water felt incredible, like it was managing to wash away all the lingering effects of the alcohol in my system. I knew it was unlikely it’d still feel so good when I got out, which was why I found myself delaying and staying under the hot stream.
As I did, my mind wandered back to Stone. If he hadn’t been here the last couple weeks, where had he been? My stomach tightened at the thought that he’d been in prison for more than a year. Men—and women, I was sure—had needs. He’d told me that night that he’d stumbled onto my broken down Grand Am that he’d been released the same morning. Maybe all those nights I didn’t see him coming to his own bed meant he was in someone else’s. Or multiple someones.
The thought had that sick feeling I thought I’d gotten rid of coming back with a vengeance.
It wasn’t my place to feel that way. We weren’t together. Actually, he’d made it quite clear that we were anything but. Still, it hurt to have those faceless women in my head.
When I was forced to admit that my minute of enjoying the shower had started turning into a way to avoid the possibility that Stone was still in the house somewhere, I forced myself to suck it up and get out. Getting ready afterward might have involved a few non-essential steps and a fair bit of lally-gagging, but I emerged from the bathroom not too long later ready to face whatever was waiting for me—even if what was waiting was a whole lot of nothing.
I poked my head in the open door of Stone’s room first, checking to see if he’d returned in my absence, but there was no sign he had. Seeing that, I headed down the stairs. It was at the top of the steps that I got a whiff of the smell.
Bacon.
Funny how that smell both obliterated my trepidation and made my stomach turn. It was delicious and nauseating and appealing and sickening.
I was definitely not drinking again if that was going to threaten my relationship with bacon. Alcohol was not worth ruining a good thing like that.
Following that smell—and hoping there was extra if I could bring myself to eat it—led me to my primary goal. Stone was there in the kitchen alone, manning the stove.
Not sure what to say exactly, I cleared my throat.
His head shot up, eyes honing right in on me and a smile forming beneath the scruff of his beard. It just served to remind me of another thing that wasn’t fair. Why did his beard have to be attractive? I’d never liked beards. I’d never liked anything that was Stone before him. True, I’d never liked any man all that much, but still. I’d always imagined I’d end up with a man that was cleaner cut. This was probably because I knew it was the only type of man my parents would approve of, so I’d narrowed out all other options subconsciously. Then, when I was free of their expectations, I’d found Stone and developed a taste all my own.
A taste that definitely included that beard.
“Heard you get in the shower, so I got this started,” Stone said as a greeting. “Feelin’ better?”
“A bit. Thank you for the ibuprofen.”
“Midol,” he corrected.
“I’m sorry?”
“Yeah, don’t ask me. That shit works. Don’t even remember who it was that shared that around the club or how they found out, just know nothin’ works as well on a hangover.”
I’d actually heard that before, and it made sense. Still, it was bizarre to hear a bunch of bikers kept a supply of Midol for any reason.
“Appreciate you holding back the laughter,” Stone said as he flipped the bacon. “There’s orange juice in the fridge. Glasses in the cabinet next to it. Good to get your blood sugar up, too.”
I moved to do as instructed at the same time I commented, “You know all the tricks for a hangover, huh?”
“Had more than my fair share of wild nights, bunny.”
Bunny.
I’d forgotten about that. He had called me that that morning.
I was about to ask when he spoke again. Even when he didn’t know he was cutting me off he somehow managed to.
“You get that, you grab a seat. Food’s done.”
My stomach lurched, and I felt the grimace on my face.
“Um…”
“I know,” he answered my unspoken hesitation. “It sounds like the worst idea, but trust me. You gotta eat. You get some food in you, you’ll feel a hell of a lot better.”
Funny enough, beneath the worry, I did feel kind of hungry. As disgusting as it was to think of, I’d probably lost most anything I ate the night before. And now, it was…
“What time is it?” I asked, unable to see the oven or microwave clock around him.
And speaking of the time, I had no idea where my purse and phone were.
“Just after one,” he answered, grabbing a plate.
Oh, okay. That was a bit alarming. I wasn’t sure I had ever slept that late.
“Do you know where my stuff is?” I asked, focusing on things I could do anything about.
“Got your purse from Daz’s car earlier. He took off with Avery to her place. It’s on one of the chairs in the living room.”
Well, that was good at least.
I was sitting at the little table off to one side of the kitchen when he approached with two plates. One went down in front of me, the other across the table before the chair he pulled out for himself.
“Eat,” he ordered.
There was a whole spread here. Bacon, eggs, a blueberry muffin, and home fries.
“You made all of this?”
“Not much to it,” he replied. “Bacon and eggs go in a pan. Potatoes were from a package, already cut and shit. Just had to warm them up. Muffin is one of Avery’s. Brought them here yesterday knowing you guys would probably tie one on.”
Apparently, everyone had been prepared for that but me. I’d actually thought it was crazy we were getting chauffeured to and from the club. After the night we’d had, it was making much more sense.
“Well, thank you. It looks good anyway.”
I started with the muffin. It seemed like the safest thing on the plate for my stomach that had quite a night and was in knots from sitting across from Stone. Once again, it was impossible not to see why Avery owned a bakery. She had a gift, there was no doubt.
“Now that the worst has passed, you have fun last night?” Stone asked.
That conversation was certainly a lot safer than any of the million questions I had bouncing around in my head.
“Yes. I don’t think I’ll ever want to drink again. Certainly not that much. But the girls were really nice and fun.”
“Good. They’re a good group of women. It’d be good for you to get to know them.”
Would it? I wasn’t so sure. When I left this house, they’d just be a tie to Stone, an excuse I’d be able to use to keep him in my life in some way.
Stone went on, “And you don’t have to swear off booze. I’m assuming you don’t have much experience drinking?” I nodded in confirmation. “You get a handle on it. Or else you learn the times you drink with a good group like that are worth a bit of suffering the next day.”
I felt ridiculous having him tell me that. I wasn’t some nineteen-year-old kid. Heck, I was closer to thirty than I was to my twenty-first birthday—or younger—when a lot of people drank too much for the first time.
“Do you think I’m weird?” I asked for some unfathomable reason.
Stone looked about as confused as I felt. “Sorry?”
Well, there was no way out of it at that point. “I just… I’m twenty-seven, and last night was the first time I’ve ever been drunk.”
“First time I got that drunk, I was fourteen,” he shared.
My mouth dropped open. “Fourteen?”
He nodded. “You think that’s weird?”
“At fourteen, the big development in my life was that I started looking after some of the younger kids at vacation Bible school.”
Stone grinned and shared, “And, honey, that I definitely can’t relate to. There’s no weird or not. You never got drunk, it wouldn’t be weird. It’d just be your life. So long as it’s your own choices, you do whatever the fuck you want and it’s no one’s place to judge.”
“That’s very sweet,” I told him.
“It’s the truth, nothing more. But you want to think I’m sweet, I’m not gonna try to stop you.”
Was he…flirting?
I couldn’t ask that. Or could I?
Why couldn't I just have a normal dating experience like every other twenty-seven-year-old out there instead of fumbling around like an awkward teenager would?
I focused down on my breakfast—or was it lunch at this point? It felt like something had changed between us, but I was afraid to ask. The last two times I’d felt there was something there and acted on it, I’d been shown I was wrong.
“You seriously fucking think I don’t feel that shit?”
“I was there for something I needed a fuck of a lot more than food. I was there to see that cute smile on your perfect fucking face.”
“I told you that day you offered me that invitation to get everything I’d been wanting for months, and I told you again last night, I’m trying to do what’s best for you.”
“You’re beautiful and smart; you’re sweeter than any woman I’ve ever fucking met.”
Those words he’d given me the last time I’d seen him came rushing back. I remembered them all. They’d practically haunted me since he walked away that night.
No, I hadn’t been wrong. He felt it, too. I was just gun shy now.
Then, a bit of the night before I’d forgotten came back. There had been a round of the girls all sharing their stories. Some were rather alarming, to be honest. Still, all of them were beautiful because it brought them to the places they were now with men that loved them without question. I’d needed a breather after that and made my excuses to escape to the bathroom, but Ember had followed me to share something she thought was important.
“I know you don’t want to talk about Stone. I don’t want to make you, but I need to share something. You’ve gotten bits and pieces about everyone’s stories, and I saw that look you got on your face. They all had their man fight to have them. It’s great. It’s fucking awesome they had that, and I know why you’re thinking you want that, too. But I had to be on the other side. Jager had a lot of demons. He still does. He wasn’t going to fight for anything because he didn’t really think it could or should be his. So I had to fight for both of us. And you know what? I don’t regret one moment. It’s easy to get caught up in hearing how their men all loved them enough to put up that fight, but I know I got to give that to my man. He loves me more for it because he’ll never forget I made that first move. I’m not telling you what you should do, I just wanted you to hear there’s more than one type of love story. It’s just a matter of what you want.”
She was right.
I’d walked away unsure, but right then, it clicked.
“Why did you call me bunny?”
Stone’s fork froze on the way to his mouth, then he dropped his hand back to his plate.
“Finish your breakfast,” he responded almost like I hadn’t asked at all.