Page 48 of Property of Stone
“Want help?”
Her eyes went wide. “Are you offering?”
“Fuck no. Gonna go wake up Sunny. Good if she learns how to make her dad waffles. Girl needs to earn her damn keep.”
Was he joking? Or was he only trying to pull a reaction from her?
“Before you do that, let’s discuss her schedule and routine while I prepare the batter.”
Chapter Nine
As Taryn eyedthe mountain of dishes in the sink, she knew the mess had been worth it.
Sunny had scarfed down two big Belgian waffles drowning in syrup, along with two breakfast sausages.
Stone had eaten four waffles, six sausages, and chugged two mugs of java.
Wren barely made it through one waffle but managed to shovel in two sausages.
They were now out of maple syrup so she added it to her shopping list.
She needed to take Wren to school and start prepping for tonight’s dinner. Both theirs and her client’s.
Tonight might have to be another crockpot meal or a casserole that could be easily popped in the oven since she’d be working elsewhere at dinner time.
Stone never said what time dinner needed to be ready, but Taryn knew what hour Wren started asking what was for dinner. Or bombarding her with suggestions.
Like hot dog slices in baked beans. Or mac and cheese. Or a sugary cereal.
Normally, she tried to make him healthier options and only serve those “junk food” meals on an occasion.
Tonight might be one of those occasions. Without being too obvious, she tried to figure out some of Sunny’s favorite foods, but Stone’s daughter was too tightlipped. She ate, dumped her dish in the sink, then disappeared upstairs without even a thank you. Taryn assumed to get ready for school.
After Sunny left the table, Taryn and Stone continued their conversation about Sunny’s morning routine so she could be on top of it. Since both kids were in elementary school, their schedules aligned, luckily. The only difference was where they attended school.
Boot steps behind her had her turning to see Stone striding into the room fully dressed for the day. Whatever that entailed.
Of course, his outfit was a carbon copy of how he dressed yesterday and the previous days. Worn jeans hugged his long legs, heavy black boots covered his feet, and he wore his MC cut.
The only change she noticed day to day was what he wore under that cut. Today it was a T-shirt that had seen better days, advertising a local Harley-Davidson dealership.
His black hair was pulled up high into a man-bun, most likely because he’d be hopping on his bike when he left. His beard looked a little neater this morning, as if he’d made an effort to tame it.
His dark espresso eyes were focused on her, doing the exact same thing: taking her in from head to toe, even though she hadn’t showered or changed yet. She looked exactly the same as when she sat across from him at breakfast.
Still…his eyes taking a slow stroll over her from the top of her head, over her face, pausing on her pink ribbed tank top—where her nipples decided to stand up and shout “hello!”—and then racing quickly down her PJ-covered legs, finishing at her bare feet, made her feel some kind of way.
While neither disgust nor a feeling of being visually violated, it was still one she needed to ignore. Just like earlier when he pulled her down on top of him.
If she ignored the warmth pooling between her legs, maybe it would go away.
When their gazes locked, she did not like the grin he wore.
Or maybe she liked it too much.
Stop it! He’s not for you. You arenotfor him. Stop making horrible decisions that affect not only you, but Wren.
To try to get past this weird, unexplainable attraction she had to this biker, she flipped a hand toward the sink. “I’ll clean up the kitchen after I get back from dropping Wren off at school.”
