Page 112 of Breaking Emily's Rules
But I no longer sought safety and security from a man. I had found that within myself. At long last.
I took off my headset and leaned back to snap the leash on Mr. Edison, easing him out.
Stone walked to meet the plane, took the leash from me and pulled me into his arms. “The family got caught in traffic on one oh one but they’re on their way.”
I lifted up to my tiptoes to brush a quick kiss on his lips. “Did you miss me?”
As usual, he yanked me back to deepen the kiss. “Always.”
Our private joke. Sometimes I would walk out of the room and back again two minutes later, asking Stone whether or not he’d missed me. The answer was always yes, even if it was occasionally accompanied by a quirked eyebrow and a sideways smirk.
“I have some bad news,” I said as we walked hand in hand from the tarmac to the hangar. “We had another drooler.”
I waited for the tension to hit Stone’s stride but it didn’t. He appeared to be slightly distracted which was unusual. Was his palm sweaty?
He shook the bad news off. “Ah, it’s okay. It happens.”
Something was off. Different. “It—happens? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He stopped walking, and drew me in for a long, deep sensual kiss.
At our feet, Mr. Edison moaned.
I hear ya, buddy.
Stone broke the kiss and grinned. “Everything’s right. Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.” Everything in that kiss told me that nothing was wrong at all, in fact everything was damn near perfect. Just as it had been for the past two months. Almost too right, too good, and I kept wondering when I was going to see a side of Stone that I couldn’t live with.
But so far I’d found that I could handle his minimalist approach to talking, as long as he continued to show me how he felt.
He was ever so good about showing me.
I could also live with his anal attitudes about the planes. Doing the bookkeeping for his business made me hyperaware of the cost and upkeep of those planes and I had newfound sympathy.
But if nothing was wrong, why was my former air force pilot–adrenaline junkie–cool-as-steel boyfriend’s hand sweaty?
Stone opened the door to the hangar for me and I walked through it.
Someone had decorated our office in airplane- and heart-shaped balloons. Red, white and blue confetti lay on every available flat space. Cutout cardboard cupids hung from the ceiling. But it was way past Valentine’s Day.
The first two people I noticed were Grammy and George sitting nearby. Cassie and Jedd, still working for Magnum, were standing in the hallway of the hangar which led to their office. Molly and Dylan, Sierra on his shoulders, were to the right. Stone’s sister, Sarah, and their mother, who was visiting, were next to them. And to my left—Daddy, sporting a wide grin.
What was almost everyone I knew doing in Stone’s little chartered flights’ office?
“I decorated,” Molly said. “Hope you like it.”
“Are we having a party I don’t know about?” I asked.
“I hope,” Stone’s deep voice came from behind me.
I turned to see vulnerability in his blue eyes that I hadn’t ever seen there before. He didn’t say another word, but dropped to one knee.
My heart hop-skipped into my throat.
“Everyone is here today because I couldn’t do this without their support. Sorry, I’m a little nervous.”
I put a hand over my mouth, and then lowered it. “You? Nervous?”
