Page 8

Royal

There was something magnetic about Stone, maybe it was his simple way of living, or perhaps because he was older—if his silver hair and wise eyes were any indication—he had some years on him. Whatever it was, it drew Royal in.

“Not a wine drinker?” he asked.

Stone gave him his attention. “Not really. Living here, and working outside, you take a liking to warm drinks, and room temperature water.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

Silence fell on them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or weird—it felt nice.

Myra returned carrying two plates and set them down in front of them. A savory aroma wafted through the air, making Royal’s stomach growl. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

With a sly smile, she winked at Stone, “Beef stroganoff is your favorite, yes, or at least it used to be.”

Stone surveyed the plate then began to nod. “It still is, Myra. It looks good, thank you.”

“Only person that made it better than me was Stone’s husband, Ben,” Myra put her hand to her heart. “God bless his soul.”

Royal paused, his fork clutched loosely in his hand.

“You two enjoy, I’ll check back in on ya.”

Myra walked away, leaving them with that charged energy between them.

Royal felt he should say something.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know, I um…”

Stone waved off the words Royal couldn’t think to say.

“It was a long time ago. I’ve made my peace with it. Ben and I had a long time together. I’m fortunate he died quick and didn’t suffer. And I’m glad I wasn’t there when it happened.”

Stone must’ve been able to tell what Royal was thinking because he continued.

“He was working. He had his own tree-cutting business.” Stone had stopped eating and was staring out of the window. “He um…he had a… Just one of those freak accidents that comes with lumber hauling. And he…he fell almost thirty feet and broke four of his seven cervical vertebrae.”

Oh god, a broken neck.

Royal’s heart clenched. That sudden loss had to be devastating.

“You don’t have to look like that, Royal. Like I said, eight years is a long time to make peace with it. Uh, life goes on, ya’know.”

“I know,” he said gently.

Neither spoke while they ate, every now and then exchanging heated glances.

When they were finished eating, Myra took their plates and refilled their drinks since neither of them got up to leave.

After a long moment, Stone asked,” Why are you here, Royal?”

The question was asked with such bluntness, he didn’t know if Stone was happy or annoyed at his presence.

Stone cleared his throat, “I mean, why would you leave a playground like Manhattan, for a town like Windeville, a place you can barely spot on a map.”

Royal took a deep breath, hoping he had the strength to explain his situation in a way that didn’t make him appear weak in front such a strong man.

“That place you think is a playground, is a mirage, Stone. It’s the Odyssey’s Lotus Land.” Royal barked a humorless laugh. “You think you’re having the time of your life, but you really killing yourself.”

Stone stared unblinking at him.

“I’ve worked in finance since I graduated from Dartmouth. Numbers and calculations was all I knew.” Royal took another drink, whether to quench his dry throat or for courage, he wasn’t sure. “I’d worked my way up in the biggest firm in New York, and I’d deluded myself into thinking that money was the way to happiness.”

Stone watched him, and Royal thought he saw tenderness temper his sharp gaze.

“Before I knew it, I realized I had no friends, I’d isolated myself from my family and only brother. I turned down dates like it was second nature, convinced my right hand would be enough.”

Color tinged Stone’s cheeks, but he kept his expression composed.

“I thought I didn’t need anything in life except my job, and my big bank account. I worked nonstop to become partner, not caring who I had to trample over to get there.” Royal let out a disgusted laugh, as shame washed over his spirit. It almost drowned him, but he pushed it back.

“One day, a regular day like any other. I was at my desk, working on a client’s portfolio. The guy—doesn’t matter who he is…was—asked me to make an insane investment. I knew it was risky, but I thought, if I made this work, my reputation as a financial genius would be validated and I’d be made partner before the funds were even deposited in the company’s account.”

Dread filled the pit of Royal’s stomach, making his beef and noodles threaten to reappear on the clean, white tablecloth.

What if Stone thought he was a vile, wretched man who didn’t deserve to be in their polite town?

Stone leaned in, put his big hand on the table and reached towards him. Royal’s breath stuttered. He hadn’t expected Stone to lay his rough palm over his.

He closed his eyes, sinking into the chair as ease and understanding moved through him. Stone’s touch felt so damn good he wanted to moan. His hands were warm and hardened from tough work… real work.

“Keep going,” Stone rumbled, that rich voice soothing Royal’s beaten soul.

“I took the risk, I gambled another person’s money, for my own selfish reasons.” Fear rippled through him, and he couldn’t look at Stone during his confession. “I lost. I lost it all. While the guy wasn’t exactly broke, he certainly wasn’t a millionaire anymore. And I guess um…it was…”

Stone squeezed and turned Royal’s palm up in his. “Keep going.”

“The guy killed himself, bullet to the temple.” Bile rose in his throat as he remembered the headline. “Right there in his own home, where his wife and kids were just in the other…”

Royal didn’t realize he was shaking. Seconds later he was on his feet and in Stone’s big arms. Stone was several inches taller than him, but at the perfect height for Royal to wrap his arms around his waist and press his forehead against his chest and hide.

He sagged forward and Stone held him tight, held him up until he had the courage he needed to go on.

“After the news spread like wildfire and my bosses came in, I thought I was going to be fired or fucking brought up on charges. And that’s when the stabbing pain in my chest started—I thought for sure I was having a heart attack.”

“But it’d been much worse, Stone. They told me to ‘chalk it up…it happens’. And that regardless of the outcome, it’d taken guts for me to do what I did and to…to ‘keep up the good work.’”

Stone wove his strong fingers through his hair and gave it a gentle tug until Royal was gazing up at him. Moisture stung the corners of his eyes, realizing he’d never given himself a chance to grieve the moment his humanity died.

But there was no judgment or criticism in Stone’s eyes, only care and understanding reflecting back at him.

“I must’ve passed out in the meeting because I woke up in the hospital, alone . My assistants, bosses, no one came to see if I was dead or alive.” Emotions made Royal’s voice sound like gravel being crunched under tires.

“For fucks sake.” Stone slid his hand over Royal’s hair then down until his palm was completely covering the right side of his neck.

“After a shit-ton of tests, they told me I’d had a massive panic attack. My blood pressure was one eighty-three over a hundred and I was in full hypertensive crisis.”

Royal could no longer resist as he eased his hand along Stone’s cheek to feel the texture of his beard. It was just as soft as he’d hoped. It felt as if he were running his fingers through a thick, cashmere blanket.

“When I was discharged, I went home and looked up this place and how to get here. I went to bed but I didn’t sleep. I went into my office the next day and I quit.”

Royal tried to suppress the shudder when Stone rubbed his thumb over his jaw, staring at him with a comforting but ravenous glare, his mouth so close his breath was mingling with his.

Fuck... he smells so good.

Stone’s scent was an earthy, heady concoction of freshly cut cedar and pine, mingled with the musky aroma of sweat. It was a reminder of Stone’s hard work, a tantalizing reminder of his raw, masculine beauty.

“Stone,” he whispered, pain and desire tinging his voice.

“You came to the right place, Royal.” Stone gritted, “Manhattan doesn’t deserve you.”