kind and ridiculously cute.
Damn my heart even more for swooning.
I try to approach him, but Mr. Gonzales stops me in my tracks. “You…out.”
Dammit.
“Come on, Mr. G,” Stone calls out from his station. “It’s Thanksgiving.”
When it’s clear Mr. Gonzales isn’t going to fold, I add, “I was hoping I could help.”
Well, not really. But hey, why not? It’s pretty crowded and they look like they can use an extra set of hands.
Stone’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Seriously?”
“Absolutely,” I state.
His boss might not be too fond of me, but opening his restaurant to feed the homeless and less fortunate Thanksgiving dinner is commendable and it would be awesome to be part of it.
Mr. Gonzales contemplates this for a moment before he says, “Fine. But today only. No exceptions.” He pulls a hairnet out of his pocket. “Put this on.”
I adjust the hairnet on my head and man the gravy station next to Stone. It’s a little hard to maneuver due to my crutches, but I manage to make it work and fall into a rhythm serving people.
I can feel Stone’s eyes burning into me like hot coals the entire time.
“What?”
His lips twitch. “Nothing.”
That’s bullshit. The look I give him conveys my thoughts.
He scoops some mashed potatoes into his giant spoon. “I just never thought I’d see the Bianca Covington wear a hairnet and feed the homeless.”
“Well, I’m happy to be here.” After spooning some gravy on a woman’s plate and wishing her a Happy Thanksgiving, I decide to come clean. “Although truth be told, it wasn’t the official reason I came here today.”
His expression turns peculiar. “Oh, yeah?” He serves the next person. “So why are you officially here then?”
I cut my gaze to his. “You.” Trying to cover up my fumble, I gesture to my purse on the floor. “I mean, your sweatshirt. I wanted to give it back to you.”
Placing the spoon down, he inches closer. “That so?”
Oh, boy. I’m thankful for my crutches because my legs are most definitely turning to Jell-O.
“Yeah.” I avert my gaze. “I thought you might want it back.”
Fortunately, a few people line up at our stations just then and we quickly get to work loading up their plates.
“Bianca?” he says after what feels like an eternity.
“Yeah?”
“He was wrong.”
His voice is so low I almost don’t hear him.
“What?”
I need to make absolutely certain I understand what he’s saying.
His expression is pained as he repeats himself. “He was wrong.” He blows out a breath. “Hell, Bianca. There were a lot of people who were at fault that night. Dylan for playing Liam and going to the dance with him. Jace for never coming clean about his feelings for Dylan…but mostly, it was Tommy.” Finally, he looks at me. “He never should have bullied him.” Sincerity laces his voice. “And for what it’s worth, I am really sorry about what happened to your brother. It sounds like he was a great person.”
My heart folds in on itself. He was.
I’m so stunned by Stone’s heartfelt admission; I almost drop my ladle.
Even though what he said was the truth, I know how hard it must have been for him to acknowledge it.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice shaky with emotion. “I…uh. That means a lot.”
It also makes these feelings I have for him stronger.
He turns back to his mashed potatoes. “And just so we’re clear I didn’t just say it to make you talk to me again. I really meant—”
“Do you want to hang out tonight?” I blurt out.
I can’t help wanting to be around him.
Especially now that I know he stands on the right side of things.
His grin is devious. “Well, I’ll be damned. Are you asking me out on a date, Bianca Covington?”
“Maybe.” I give him a coy smile of my own. “It depends.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “On?”
“Whether or not you say yes.”
Please say yes.
He shrugs a shoulder. “Sorry, can’t tonight.”
Well, that backfired.
Swallowing down a lump of disappointment, I utter. “Oh.” I look down at the pan of gravy. “I under—”
“I already have plans to watch Bourne Identity with this girl I’m crazy about after work.”
I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if I tried.
There’s only one problem with our impending plans.
I shoot my gaze to Sawyer, who’s happily humming Christmas songs and carving up slices of turkey.
Something tells me she’s also the kind of girl who likes to leave her Christmas lights up till February.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Stone before I hobble over to where she is.
“I need a favor.”
She looks up. “Don’t