Page 14 of Just This Once (Stone Family #2)

Dante

“ A re you even listening to me?”

I force my gaze back to my father from where I’d been staring out at the window in a daze. “Yeah.”

He huffs a sarcastic sound. “Do you have any idea how much your screw-up on the masonry order is going to set us back?”

I do, actually. Because I was the one who brought my mistake to his attention.

Not that I expected a different reaction, but he had to know.

This has happened before. Me fucking up and him yelling at me.

I tune him out as he loses steam so that he can pretend like he didn’t treat his employee, let alone his son, like he was a piece of shit.

I’m used to it by now.

And maybe, if I could put my big boy pants on, I’d quit or tell him to shove his company up his ass, but…

“I thought I handled it,” I mumble, trying to maintain some semblance of confidence under his relentless glower .

“Thought? That’s just it! You thought. That’s your whole problem.

Now we’re at risk of missing our deadline and losing the contract!

” Dad slams his fist against the table, causing a few family photos to rattle, and I dip my chin, holding back an irritated sigh.

We won’t lose the contract, and we will meet the deadline because I caught the wrong order in time.

The delivery of the stone will be a few days late, but it’ll be fine.

I lift my phone, checking the time. I don’t have a meeting, but I use one as an excuse. “I need to appointment with contractors downtown.”

He waves me away, already busy with something else. I’m a mere irritant. A fly. A bug he’d like to finally get rid of.

I don’t say goodbye, but I do offer a smile to his assistant on the way out of the office, and I take a full, deep breath once I’m back in the truck.

What I’d really like to do is go take a ride on my bike and relieve some of the tension in my bones, but I can’t.

I need to check in at The Nest. With the kitchen finished, we’ve moved on to tearing down the walls and opening up the space, before we’ll go on to the bedrooms next month.

I take my time driving downtown with the windows open, letting the cold air cool my overheated skin and stop at Cuppa Jo for Taryn’s coffee order then hit up Gray’s Candy for a couple bags of gummy bears, worms, and Swedish Fish.

When I arrive at the B&B, I take a minute to talk with the workers.

I’m informed Raf has had trouble renewing his green card, and he hasn’t been back to work since ICE showed up.

I hate that he’s losing all those wages, but I’d been told he found an immigration lawyer to try to help.

For now, he’s lying low. I’ve spent a lot of nights thinking about him, and I still feel bad, but I’ve had to push through, finding a new electrician to work on this project and finish it on time for Taryn .

Walking through The Nest now is second nature.

After three weeks, I’ve learned where every squeaky board is and that Taryn takes her personal phone calls in the laundry room, which is where I find her, stomping around.

She huffs and puffs, tossing bedding around with more force than necessary, banging the dryer door closed.

She pivots around, finally spotting me, leaning against the doorjamb.

Her chocolate eyes scan me from head to toe and then back to my hands holding her coffee and candy.

I know she wants them even as she folds her arms over her chest. She’s got on an oversized sweater, soft and woven, and I’d like to put my head on her tits. Take a nap.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, offering her my gifts.

“Nothing.” She reaches for the candy first, tossing a bunch of Swedish Fish into her mouth. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. Now, wanna tell me why you’re in here beating up the laundry?”

“Not particularly.”

I step into the room and close the door, shutting out the sound of the crew working, keeping out the lingering smell of sawdust and paint, leaving only Taryn’s soft breaths and the smell of coffee and sugar.

I close the distance between us and set her coffee down on the washer behind her then place my hands on the machine, boxing her in.

Her mouth parts, pupils dilating, and it would be so easy to duck my head and taste the skin of her throat, suck on that spot under her jaw that makes her moan so sweetly.

She is so sweet.

Even when she’s angry.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, and she shakes her head.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re a terrible liar, duchess.”

“Don’t call me that. ”

“Don’t tell me everything’s fine when it’s not. How can I help?”

“Jesus,” she snaps. “What is your deal?” She shoulders past me, bumping me out of the way, and turns so her back is to the door. “Why are you so pushy?”

I don’t expect her to trust me implicitly, but after working together, I would think we’re at least on friendly terms. More than acquaintances. And after I fucked her in her bed, I would hope she believes I wouldn’t hurt her.

But whatever series of unfortunate events has led her to be this untrusting can’t be undone in a few days, so I try again.

“Listen. If you really don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.

I just want you to know that if it’s something about this place—” I circle my hand, encompassing the whole of the bed-and-breakfast “—I’ll help you with whatever you need.

And if it’s something else, I’d be happy to lend an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on or a fist if we need to go take care of business. Know what I mean?”

The corner of her mouth twitches, and I smile, chucking two gummy worms her way. She catches them, biting into one viciously. She chews and swallows before twirling the bottom half in the air as she explains, “My tenant got engaged last night.”

“And we’re not happy about that?”

She stuffs the rest of the worm into her mouth with a cute little growl. “No. I’m happy for her.”

“Yeah. Sounds like it.”

She throws her second worm back at me. “She wants to move in with him now, which is great, I guess.”

I muffle my laugh by eating the candy. “So great.”

Much to my satisfaction, she crosses the room to stand next to me, picking up her coffee, sipping from it with an even more satisfied sigh.

Her shoulders drop, eyes close. And I feel eighteen feet tall for how I’m able to provide her even a few seconds of comfort.

I wait, silently observing, her throat working as she drinks, the shake of her right foot that she has crossed over her left, and I wonder if the action is her nervous tic, her sign of stress.

“I was counting on that money,” she says eventually. “I’ll need to find a new renter.”

I wrench away. “You need to find a new renter?”

She frowns at me as if she doesn’t understand my sudden grin.

“I can be your new renter.”

“What? No. Uh-uh. No. What ?”

I move in front of her, my hands on her shoulders. “I can be your renter.”

She shakes her head, adamant. And, honestly, does she not know me by now?

“Come on, babe, you need the money. I need a place to stay. It’s a win-win.”

“First of all,” she says, knocking my hands away, “don’t call me babe.”

“You prefer duchess? Me too.”

“I can’t fucking stand you,” she says with no heat in her voice. In fact, I think she likes me. More than likes me.

Especially because she asks, “Why do you need a place to stay?”

I am immeasurably happy that she’s curious about me, but my living at home isn’t exactly a topic I want to explain, so I skip over it. “I broke up with my girlfriend a few weeks ago, and I need a new?—”

“You cheated on her with me?”

Without thinking, I grab her shoulders again. “No. I would never and have never cheated on anyone.”

“When did you break up? ”

I can’t help my growing smile. “Are you concerned for her or me or you?”

She wiggles out of my hold, scrunching up her nose. “ Not me.”

“No? There was no tinge of jealousy in your voice just then?”

She steals the bag of candy and sees herself out of the laundry room. I, of course, follow her. “I’m a great tenant. I’ll mow your lawn, take out your trash. Hell, I’ll even cook you dinner if you want.”

She stops abruptly, pivoting to face me. “Cook me dinner?”

“Yeah.” I lean against the wall, casual as can be. “I’m Italian. Make you sauce from scratch.”

She rolls her eyes. “I can’t have my contractor living in the apartment above my house. It’s not appropriate.”

I push off the wall, taking a step closer to her. “There’s nothing inappropriate about it. I work for you, not under you.”

Immediately, my mind goes to working under her. Fuck yeah, I’d work so hard.

I think she’s imagining the same thing—her sitting on my face—because her cheeks flush pink.

And she struggles to reply, her jaw flapping up and down. So I cut her a break. “You won’t even know I’m there. I’ll be so good. Scout’s honor.”

I hold up three fingers, giving her my best innocent smile, and she shakes her head. Though, I can see her resolve wavering, lips twitching, and I press my palms together, silently begging. She eventually closes her eyes with a delightful little growl. “I’ll think about it.”

I can work with that. I tweak her arm and head over to the crew to see what I can help with.

By lunchtime, we’ve made good progress inside, so I head outside to refinish the porch. Which makes Taryn completely incensed when she realizes.

“Why are you doing this? I can’t pay for it. This wasn’t in the contract or on any list of items we discussed.”

I shrug. “Yeah, but the exterior could use some love too.”

“It’s not in the budget.”

“It’s on my dime,” I tell her, and she fumes.

“This better not be some quid pro quo situation.”

“I literally have no idea what that means,” I say, adjusting the bandanna I have tied like a headband to catch my sweat. “But this’ll be loud, so…”

I hit the power on the sander, and she clamps her hands over her ears, shouting something at me that I can’t hear. Though her ass sure does look good as she stomps away from me.

Later, I help carry in a pallet of wood, waving at Taryn to catch her attention. “Look at me being professional at work.”

She scowls.

“I can be professional as a tenant too.” I waggle my eyebrows, but she doesn’t think I’m cute.

A shame.

I thought it was a good line.

And even later, when it’s time to punch out, I tap my knuckles on Taryn’s makeshift desk until we’re done with the renovations on this floor and smile when she glances up. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Or, maybe, earlier if you want me to move in upstairs.”

Her exhale is pure vexation. And maybe it’s my need to please her that has me leaning down, catching her chin between my fingers. “I’m bringing you breakfast tomorrow. Do you want hash browns or potatoes on the side?”

It takes her a second to answer, her brows drawn down, eyes unfocused as they roam my face. “Uh, potatoes. ”

“You got it.” I touch the pad of my thumb to her lower lip, remembering what it was like to touch her clit. Make her mouth pout so prettily in pleasure. “Later, duchess.”

Her voice is still dreamy when she answers. “Bye.”

I think I won that round.