That makes me sad for Coen. “He must feel like an island.”
“A rageful island,” Stone clarifies. “He has to figure some way to work that shit out. I know management won’t put up with it, and he’s going to find himself booted from the team.”
“You figured a way to work past that stuff,” I murmur.
Stone smiles, takes my hand again. “Yeah… I did. Part of that was you, and part of that was my brother’s journals. I don’t know if Coen has a support system. I’ve tried to get him to open up a few times, but he’s not interested in connecting with anyone.”
We feel the heaviness of the moment… that Coen might be a lost cause.
“Want to get out of here?” Stone asks.
I study him, noting the worry lines around his eyes. “Yeah… let’s go to my place. I’m sure there will be sex involved.”
Stone laughs, the distress melting from his expression. “I’ll make all your dreams come true tonight.”
“God, please don’t be kidding.”
Standing from his chair, Stone helps me up. He loops an arm around my neck and pulls me in. His mouth touches mine for a small kiss, then he nuzzles his cheek next to mine.
His lips graze my ear before he whispers, “I think I’m going to make you beg.”
A shiver runs up my spine at the dark promise within those words, and I doubt he’s going to have to work too hard to get me to beg.
CHAPTER 24
Stone
I let Harlow drive us to her parents’ since she knows Pittsburgh like the back of her hand, and I get lost if I venture more than a few blocks from the condo or the arena. When we pull up in front of what I can only describe as a mansion, I’m finally starting to understand not only Harlow’s family wealth but the history behind it. She comes from a long line of prestigious lawyers, and if the grandiosity of her family home is any indication, they are not only prestigious but incredibly productive when it comes to making money.
As we step out of the vehicle, I look over the hood at her. “I’m feeling severely underdressed.”
Harlow waves at me and then to herself. We’re both in jeans. “You’re dressed just as well as I am. Trust me when I tell you my parents don’t care about this stuff.”
She walks around the front of her car and holds out her hand. “But please don’t get freaked out that they will both be dressed nicely.”
“Oh, great,” I grumble. “Missing my first real opportunity to impress your mom and dad.”
Harlow laughs and wraps both of her arms around the crook of my elbow as we walk up the sidewalk. “They’re going to like you just the way you are.”
She leads me up the steps to a set of large double doors with heavy brass knockers. She ignores those, along with the doorbell, and enters into a spacious, marbled foyer with a double-grand staircase before us and marbled floor beneath. Before I can take in my surroundings, I hear the scrabbling of claws as two large Bernese Mountain Dogs race toward us.
I’d been expecting this. While we didn’t bring Odin tonight, I’m well aware that the Alston family has had Bernese Mountain Dogs going back a few generations.
Harlow squats to hug the dogs and let them kiss her. She glances up at me and says, “This is Loki and Freya.”
As if understanding the introduction, both dogs come to me with tails wagging. A far cry from how I first met Odin, who continues to warm up to me, I’m happy to say, but his tail doesn’t wag like these two when I’m near.
Maybe that will happen over time. I know I’m going to have to win him over at some point.
“Oh, there you are, Harlow.”
My gaze moves to a woman in her late forties. I know this isn’t Harlow’s mother, not only because of the age but because this woman is a brunette, and I’ve seen pictures of Harlow’s parents in her condo. She inherited her fiery-red hair from her mom.
This woman is wearing a pair of black pants and a red silk blouse.
“Hi, Carina,” Harlow says with a smile as she straightens. “This is Stone Dumelin.”
Carina moves forward, holding out her hand. “Welcome, Mr. Dumelin. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“I’m good right now,” I reply.
She tips her head toward a hallway that goes past the right side of the curved staircase. “Your parents are in the sitting room waiting for you.”
“Thank you,” Harlow says and takes my hand to lead me away.
“Who was that?” I ask in a low voice.
“I’m sorry,” Harlow murmurs, glancing back over her shoulder as Carina heads off in the opposite direction. “That’s my parents’ housekeeper.”
“That totally blows my stereotype of wealthy people making their help wear uniforms.”
Harlow laughs. “I told you my parents don’t care about physical trappings such as clothing and uniforms. They judge people on their own merit. Besides… Carina is so valuable to them, she could show up wearing a clown costume and they would be fine with it.”
Harlow leads me into the sitting room that looks like nothing more than a formal living room, decked out with antique furniture, heavy silk rugs, polished dark flooring, and what looks like expensive art on the wall. The huge fireplace is currently unlit, a recognition of the spring weather barreling into Pittsburgh.
I get my first glimpse of Mr. and Mrs. Alston. They’re sitting on a couch placed perpendicular to the fireplace. There’s a matching couch across from them with a coffee table in between.
Harlow’s dad has his arm draped over the back cushion, his fingertips playing affectionately with his wife’s shoulder as they talk. He looks very distinguished with silver at his temples, and while he’s not wearing a suit, he has on a dress shirt and tailored pants with what look to be very expensive dress shoes. Mrs. Alston is wearing a dress and high heels—and wow, Harlow is the spitting image of her mother.
They both turn their heads our way and stand from the couch when we enter.
Harlow lets my hand go and moves to her parents.
“Hi, honey,” her dad says as he hugs her. Harlow moves to her mother and receives the same greeting, although her mother also kisses her cheek.
Harlow then moves back to my side and takes my hand in hers.
“Mom… Dad… this is Stone Dumelin. My boyfriend.”
Neither one of the Alstons raise an eyebrow or blink in surprise at that announcement. This is only because Harlow had given them a heads-up that our relationship had changed from friends to something more. Harlow assured me her parents were greatly pleased by this, but I wonder how they can be because they don’t know me at all.
Maybe they think I’m just like Brooks, and that’s good enough for them, because Harlow told me they adored my brother.
I move forward, shake both of their hands. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting me to dinner.”
“We love to have guests,” Harlow’s mom says, her hands encompassing both of mine. “And please let me offer our condolences over your brother’s passing. We adored him and he’s sorely missed.”
“Thank you.” I wasn’t ready for that and I have to swallow hard the emotion that brings up. “I’m glad you got to know him.”