“I’m counting on it.”
That was good because she couldn’t imagine just watching him work while she did nothing. How awkward would that be?
“Just tell me what to do.”
“Come here.”
Not knowing what he planned, she came close to where he stood, gasping when he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him.
With the embrace, she halfway expected him to kiss her, but instead he just grinned down at her.
“Did you think about me today?”
A zillion times. Plus, I’m pretty sure my mother wants us to give her grandchildren and she’s not even met you. “Was I supposed to?”
His thumbs tracing across her low back, he laughed. “You are such an ego-buster.”
His fingers were magical because all kinds of things were happening inside her body. Would it be wrong if she closed her eyes and just pretended this was so much more?
“Sorry.” She was smiling back at him. How could she not? “I didn’t know thinking of you was a condition of our friendship.”
“Thinking about each other is definitely a condition of our friendship.”
“I’ll keep that in mind tomorrow and make sure I think of you at least once.”
He chuckled. “You do that.”
His hands rested low on her back. His body pressed hard against her belly. Carly’s knees wobbled. Had to have because she leaned into him.
She looked at him, parted her lips, waited in anticipation of whatever he had in mind when he’d pulled her close.
He stared into her eyes, then grinned as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Maybe it wasn’t.
“I’m going to grab the other bags. You mind unpacking these?”
“I…” She glanced at the bags he’d put on her countertop. “Sure.”
With that he was out of the room. When she heard the front screen door open and close, she sighed.
Okay, what had that been? A friendly hug?
* * *
Stone paused on Carly’s front porch and took a deep breath. What had he been thinking to pull her into his arms?
When he’d gotten her there, he hadn’t wanted to let go, had had to force himself to step away.
Because when he’d looked into her eyes, he’d seen awareness. Physical awareness. And curiosity. She’d wondered if he was going to kiss her and the idea had intrigued her.
Which had done crazy, stupid things to his insides.
Like make all his blood rush south.
He couldn’t kiss Carly. No matter the look she’d given. She needed their friendship and he’d give it to her.
A few loose boards on the porch caught his eye and he mentally tallied what he’d need to fix them.
He’d get the rest of the groceries, cook Carly dinner, and make a mental list of things he could help with around her house.
* * *
Carly took in the bags on her counter. More bags than she’d bought at one time in years. Maybe ever.
Why was Stone doing this?
Catching the tender flesh of her inner cheek between her teeth, Carly forced herself to stop over-thinking and began pulling fresh vegetables from the grocery bags.
When Stone had said he intended to cook her homemade, he’d meant homemade right down to the sauce apparently. Wow.
He made two additional trips out to his SUV and by the time he’d finished, her countertops were full.
“There’s no way we can eat all this.”
“We’ll eat more than you think.”
She glanced at all the food they’d unpacked. “I don’t eat this much in a month.”
“Which explains why you’re so thin. You need to eat more.”
He thought she was too thin? She glanced down. She wore loose black yoga pants and a baggy cotton gray T-shirt that was one of the most comfortable items she owned. Not as nice as his khaki trousers and expensive navy polo, but much more practical for how she’d spent her day.
“So much for your perfect comment earlier,” she reminded, holding her hand up to stop him when he went to explain away his comment on her figure. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve always been small framed. I take after my mom that way.”
He leaned back against the countertop. “Will I meet her tonight?”
She had already wondered that, had wondered how she would explain Stone’s presence when her mother woke.
“I’m sure you will.”
“Good. It’s obvious how much you adore and admire her. I can’t wait to meet her.”
Protectiveness hitting her, Carly hesitated. “She’s been ill a long time. She’s not the woman she used to be. Not on the outside.”
“Mentally, she’s good?”
“Sometimes,” Carly told him, deciding to be as open as possible. Why not? He’d soon see for himself how ill her mother was. “Parkinson’s disease is her main issue, but she has some vascular dementia as well, possibly from mini-strokes a couple of years ago or maybe from medications or the Parkinson’s itself. The doctors aren’t sure. More often than not, she thinks I’m her mother, Margaret. Sometimes, she’s with me, knows me, and is my mother.”