Page 27 of Stone
“Thank you,” she said.
“For?” He honestly had no idea. It didn’t seem like she’d be thanking him for having his own book collection.
“For everything today. For dealing with the guy this morning, for not questioning me or accusing me of having an overactive imagination, for believing in me enough to bring in Philly and Monk, for having me here. And for having a room full of books. I’m going to reserve judgment on them until I see what you have, but the fact you have them will help me sleep better.”
He followed her logic until that last statement. How a few boxes of books could help her sleep better, he couldn’t figure, but he’d roll with it.
And in the meantime, he was going to enjoy her curves pressed against him, her arms around his neck, and her scent surrounding him.
14
Juliana leaned closer to the mirror in the bathroom and touched up her mascara. Her palm brushed her cheek, drawing attention to the rest of her face. Her smooth, fair complexion held a hint of natural rose and it rarely, if ever, became oily or uneven. She’d not suffered acne as a teen and never even had an occasional spot as an adult woman. She might not be endowed with other beauty assets, but she had good skin.
Dropping the tube into her bathroom bag, she surveyed herself one more time—she’d showered but not washed her hair and now had it up in a bun. She wore the same cropped jeans from the day before, but today, she donned a flowy linen top. Something she could wear under a jacket if she convinced Simon to head into San Francisco with her.
Padding barefoot across her room, she exited and headed toward the beautiful main staircase, the worn and slightly uneven tread of the old wide-planked floors cool against the soles of her feet. As she made her way down the stairs, she considered her options for convincing Simon that a trip to the city was warranted.
If yesterday’s behavior was anything to go by, he’d shy away from running toward the battlefield—at least with her in tow—but she had her reasons, and she hoped she could sway him.
Pausing at the bottom step, she surveyed the front door and entry hall. She had no idea what the house looked like two years ago, but Simon had done a gorgeous job restoring it. There were still little things that needed to be done—knobs replaced with more historically accurate versions, the outside painted, the rooms fully furnished—but the underlying work impressed her. He’d created a home straight out of a fairy tale. Or movie set.
“Coffee?” Simon’s question interrupted her musings. She turned to see him standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen. His eyes swept over her, lingering first on her hair, then her breasts, before meeting hers again. “You look good.”
She smiled. So did he. He wore a pair of worn jeans that hugged his legs and a black T-shirt tight enough to show his shape, but not so tight as to look sleazy. Not that Simon could ever look sleazy, but skintight T-shirts had never been a look that did it for her.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said, walking toward him. They’d cuddled up on her bed last night and watched an episode of a popular comedy, then he’d kissed her goodnight and headed to his room. She’d thought sleep would elude her, but to her surprise, she’d drifted off almost immediately, not waking once until eight hours later.
When she drew near, he slid a hand behind her neck and pulled her into a kiss. He tasted vaguely of coffee and desire and comfort. But he didn’t take it further than that.
Being with a man who didn’t want to jump right into bed with her because he thought he could—or should—was a bit of a novelty. Given what little he’d told her about his upbringing—and all the terrible scenarios she’d conjured on her own—his life could have gone in so many different directions. She hated theidea of what he’d experienced but admired the strength he had to use it and become the man standing in front of her.
“You sleep okay?” he asked when he pulled back.
“Surprisingly, I did. The best night’s sleep I’ve had in a while,” she said. His dark eyes studied her, then he nodded and led her to the kitchen. “I put some frozen croissants in the oven and was going to make eggs and sausage. Does that work for you?”
“Sounds perfect,” she said. “What can I do to help?”
He shook his head and shrugged. “Nothing. The sausages will cook first, then I’ll scramble the eggs. Sit and have coffee,” he said, gesturing to the bistro table occupying the charming deck off the kitchen. The morning sun had climbed over the mountains and lit the space in a soft light.
“I don’t like sitting around while you’re doing the cooking. It has a weird lady-of-the-manor feel to it. Especially in a house as lovely as this.” She took the mug he offered and leaned against the counter instead.
“If we were at your place, would you insist I sit and enjoy my coffee?” he countered, breaking an egg into a bowl. When she didn’t answer, he smirked. “Go sit. Enjoy the morning. You can either be outside or in the dining room, but the deck is closer.”
It was, and he’d left open a set of French doors leading to it, no doubt to let in the fresh morning air. In truth, if they’d been at her place and she’d been in the kitchen and him at the table, they’d be about the same distance apart.
With a disgruntled huff, she stepped outside.
A cool breeze filtered through the thin material of her top, chilling her arms, but the sun’s rays warmed her face, and the deck heated the soles of her feet. The scents she associated with Mystery Lake surrounded her, muted in the early hours of the day.
Rather than sit, she wandered to the edge of the deck. Resting her cup on the railing, she looked out over the land. “You grow hay,” she said over her shoulder.
“I lease the fields to a farmer,” he answered. “He uses it to grow hay for his cattle in the winter. In exchange, I get a bunch of free meat every year.”
She peered over her shoulder and into the kitchen.
“There’s a huge freezer in the garage,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “He uses the hay for his cattle, but the farm also raises other animals, so there’s a mix of beef, chicken, and pork. Including the sausages we’ll have in a few minutes.” He paused, then asked, “You’re not squeamish about thinking of the live versions of the food you eat, are you?”
She flashed him a rueful smile. “I should be. Cows and pigs are so cute, and I probably could have them for pets. But no, I’m not. I like food too much. Although, I do prefer it when they are sustainably farmed rather than factory farmed. Better for the animals and the farmers.”
