Page 12 of Just This Once (Stone Family #2)

Taryn

T o say my divorce was contentious would be an understatement.

After nearly ten years of marriage, most of which were unhappy, and having two kids, whom he didn’t take much interest in, I thought Craig would sign the papers without a fight.

But that son of a bitch fought me every single step of the way.

Looking back now, I understand cruelty was the point.

He wanted to punish me. Make me spend more money on the lawyer fees, extend arbitration as long as possible, and force me into giving him hours of custody, when in reality, he could not give two shits how often he got the kids.

So it is no surprise when I receive a text that he can’t pick up Maddie, but it is no less frustrating.

At least he texted me, as opposed to up and forgetting about our daughter, which he’s done in the past. Straight up left her at McDonald’s when he had a work phone call.

He was too busy taking care of whatever the fuck to realize he’d walked to his car without Maddie, not even noticing until he arrived at his office.

By then, our nine-year-old daughter had been left completely alone, scared and crying.

It was the reason I got her a cell phone and therapy.

We’re all in therapy now, but that was the tipping point. I decided I had to stop acting as if he would ever change. He wouldn’t. Even for his own children. I’ve learned to rely on myself—and lean on my family from time to time.

I look up from my work when the front door of The Nest opens to find Ian and Maddie. He tosses his thumb her way. “Found this wandering around outside. Looked familiar. Does it belong to you?”

Maddie giggles at my brother’s teasing, and I usher them both inside.

With my arm around my daughter, I walk them to the kitchen, which is newly refurbished and back in working order.

“Thanks for picking her up,” I tell Ian as I retrieve the half gallon of chocolate milk from the fridge to pour some out for Maddie.

“Do you want something to eat or drink?”

He shakes his head, his focus skipping around the room. “I can’t believe this got done already.”

“I know.” I brush my hand over Maddie’s hair as she gulps down the milk. “Did you finish your homework?”

She nods, and Ian helps himself to a lap around the kitchen. “I helped her with math.” Then he notes, “You even got a new ceiling.”

When he turns his curious gaze on me, I shrug. “Dante does good work.”

Ian smirks. “I bet he does.”

“Shut up.”

“I’d like to talk to him. It’s always nice to have a contractor’s name in the back pocket in case of emergencies.”

Ever since ICE knocked on the door last week, Dante has been coming every day, not only to check in on the progress, but also to work. With whatever needs doing, he jumps right in. It’s frustrating how good he is at his job, making my job of ignoring my attraction to him all the more difficult.

Competent in his skills and kind to everyone. What a considerate pain in the ass.

At that exact moment, the pain in my ass saunters into the kitchen, sweaty and covered in sawdust, wiping his forehead with a bandanna he always keeps in his pocket unless it’s wrapped around his forehead like some 1980s action hero.

It’s gross, really, how cute he is. Like, he shouldn’t be. But he is.

“Hey,” he says, noticing his audience, and he tucks the sweaty bandanna away before skimming his hands down his jeans. “Sorry to interrupt. I only wanted to grab a water.”

“Why are you still here?” I ask, double-checking the time. “It’s almost five.”

He waves the question away. The crew left around three, as usual. He should have as well.

Charitable asshole.

Ian cuts Dante off, sticking out his hand. “We’ve never been formally introduced. I’m Ian Stone.”

“Dante Moretti.”

They shake hands, sizing each other up.

“Seems like you’re doing a great job here,” Ian says. “You’ve managed to do the impossible and impress my sister.”

Dante flashes an irritating smile my way. “My new mission in life.”

Ian slaps his shoulder. “She could use some impressing.”

I stick up my middle finger behind Maddie’s back as he asks Dante about a business card.

They exchange information, and I definitely don’t pay attention to the fit of Dante’s jeans or how the sleeves of his T-shirt mold to his biceps.

Instead, I ask Maddie about her day and what she wants for dinner.

We haven’t fully restocked the kitchen, but there is enough food for sandwiches with an assortment of chips, dips, and fruit .

After Ian finishes his conversation with Dante, he drops a kiss to Maddie’s head and one to my cheek for good measure. “Let me know how Jake does.”

“I will,” I promise and lean against the counter.

Dante moves toward me, motioning to Maddie. “And who’s this?”

“My daughter.” I reach out for the pickle jar she can’t open, but Dante beats me to it, popping it open without any effort.

I shouldn’t swoon.

And yet, I do.

Inwardly, at least.

“Thanks,” Maddie says quietly when he hands the jar back, ducking down to her level.

“I’m Dante. What’s your name?”

“Madeline. Maddie, I mean.”

“Madeline, that’s pretty.”

That earns him a small, shy smile.

“You mind if I have one of your pickles?” When she shakes her head, he uses a fork to scoop one out, biting into the spear with a crunch. “Mm, my favorite. I love pickles.”

“Me too,” she volunteers, and of course, the one guy my daughter isn’t afraid of is the one I’m trying to stay away from. Maddie has always been on the shier side and is especially distrustful of men—thank you, Craig—but Dante eases into conversation with her.

“So, Mads, what grade are you in?”

“Seventh.”

He nods. “I don’t remember seventh grade much. You like it?”

She shrugs. “It’s okay. It’s harder than last year.”

After I make Maddie a sandwich, I slide the loaf of bread, along with turkey and cheese, across the counter to Dante so he can help himself.

As he builds his sandwich, he says, “I was always so bad at school. Everything was hard for me. I have a reading disability, so I got pulled out of classes a lot for help. I had an IEP?—”

“My one friend has an IEP,” Maddie cuts in.

“Oh yeah? I used to feel really bad about it when I was in school ’cause I was afraid of what people would think about me, but nobody really cared.”

The way Dante so casually talks about something that shaped him as a person is both endearing and worrying.

Because no one should feel bad about needing accommodations, but his voice is filled with a forced cheerfulness that I can see right through.

I’d like the names of anyone who’s ever made him feel less than perfect.

Because that’s what he is.

Much to my dismay.

“So, even though school might be hard for you, it’s okay,” he continues before biting into his sandwich, speaking around a mouthful. “It’s okay to ask for help.”

Maddie nods. “My cousin, Gracie—she’s my best friend, and she’s in sixth grade—she’s so good at school, she can help me out with my work.”

Dante eats like a drunk panda bear, stuffing as much of the sandwich into his mouth as he can. I don’t know why I find it so adorable.

“Nice. It’s cool she’ll help you. You got a lot of cousins?”

“I have…” Maddie rolls her eyes up to the ceiling. “Five cousins.”

“I got about that many too.” Dante laughs. “You get along with them?”

She nods. “Yeah. It’s fun. We have parties and picnics together and stuff.”

“Your family sounds awesome.”

“What’s your family like?”

“Not as cool as yours.” He glances my way and smiles, a bite of the sandwich hanging out of his mouth.

I roll my eyes.

What a goof.

Perfect, adorable, maddening goof.

He turns back to my daughter and polishes off his sandwich. “So, what’s up? Give me the tea of seventh grade. Who’s dating who? Who’s having the parties?”

“Oh my god.” I pointedly step into his space. “You’re as bad as Clara.” Then I set my hand on Maddie’s back, reminding her, “You have lots of time for dating and parties when you’re older.”

Dante raises his fingers to the corner of his mouth, stage-whispering, “You can tell me later.”

Maddie giggles and agrees with a nod as I sigh. “Finish up, sweetie. We need to leave soon for Jake’s game.”

Dante leans back, his palms pressing into the counter, the soft cotton of his shirt clinging to the contours of his chest and stomach. As if I needed reminding of how fit he is. “What game?”

Maddie swallows her bite, eager to fill him in. “Jake’s soccer game. He’s really good.”

“Yeah?” Dante slants his curious eyes to me. “Where does he get the athletic gene from?”

Maddie pipes up before I can respond. “Mom used to play soccer in college. She was really good too.”

Dante’s gaze slides over to me, a slow perusal that has my body heating up despite my best efforts to remain apathetic to him.

I can practically see the gears turning in his head, and I don’t want to imagine what he’s thinking.

I’m actively trying to avoid thinking of him the same way, but it’s hard when he looks at me like that .

I drag my hands through my hair, lifting the strands off my hot neck. “We should get going. Don’t want to be late.”

Dante pushes off the counter, putting the cold cuts and pickles back in the refrigerator. “What about you, Mads? You into sports like your brother?”

Maddie shakes her head, her ponytail swaying. “I like dancing and singing.”

Dante’s face lights up with a genuine smile. “Yeah? That’s awesome. You any good?”

Since she’s mid-chew, she shrugs. I’m so happy my daughter found hobbies she loves, but the poor kid isn’t very good at them.

Though what she lacks in skill, she makes up for with enthusiasm.

Maddie beams. “I have a recital every year for dance, and my school does a spring musical. I don’t know what it is yet, but I heard it might be The Wiz . ”

I hide my grimace. A bunch of mostly kids butchering “Ease on Down the Road.” Great .