Page 34 of Property of Stone
She reminded herself it was only temporary.
A few months maybe.
That was it.
Since it sounded like Stone had connections with questionable people, maybe he could help her disappear. Finding a remote tropical island somewhere and becoming a private chef at some billionaire’s fifth vacation home would be perfect.
Okay, before any of that could happen, she first had to get through today. And tomorrow. She needed to take one day at a time.
Everything didn’t need to be decided this very minute. Including moving in with some outlaw biker who was most likely a career criminal.
“Let’s finish this tour. I need to go pick up Wren from my mother’s.”
He grinned at that.
Grinned.
Because he knew he’d won and was being cocky about it.
Only, he shouldn’t celebrate just yet.
Nothing was set in stone.
He tipped his head toward the bedroom door. “C’mon, gonna show you the rest of the house before you go.”
After crossing the short hallway at the top of the stairs again, he pointed toward the full bathroom between the two bedrooms. She peeked her head in to see it had a tub she could use for Wren. It had also been updated in the last decade, luckily.
Was it perfectly clean? Not even close. But that was an easy fix.
“Besides watching Sunny when you’re not here, what else would you expect from me?”Please don’t say sex. That wasnotgoing to happen.
When a wicked smile spread across his face, Taryn shook her head. “Not that. You mentioned cooking the other day.”
“Yeah.”
That was easy enough. “Cleaning? Laundry?”
“If you want. Or can get one of the sweet butts to do it.”
She followed him into the primary bedroom. “A what? Is that the name of a cleaning service?”
“Somethin’ like that.”
“How often do they come?”
The creases at the corner of his eyes deepened. “Daily.”
She frowned as she glanced around his room. “Then they’re slacking. It looks like this place hasn’t been cleaned for a couple of weeks or more.”
He dropped his head and scratched the back of his neck.
“You might want to fire them if this is the quality of their work.”
His bedroom had clothes tossed into the corner. A boot here. A boot there. The bed hadn’t been made. She wondered when the last time the sheets had been washed. Dust covered the furniture, too.
“Can’t fire them,” he said eventually.
She glanced his way. “Why? Do you have a contract with them?”
