Casting Stones (Stones Duet #1) Read online

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright© 2016 by L.M.Carr. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

  Cover Design and Interior Formatting by Cassy Roop of Pink Ink Designs

  For the people closest to my heart-

  Damian, Michael, Julia & Emily

  I sometimes find this part the hardest to write because there are so many people I want and need to acknowledge. There are those who have been part of my journey since day one and there are those who are joining me now. Both are equally important.

  And so…

  I shall not name names for you know who you are

  You might live down the street or in a place very far

  This acknowledgment is for you, my old friends and my new

  I am humbled and honored to have met you

  So sit back, relax and enjoy as we journey on and struggle through

  Just remember in the end, a happily ever after awaits those two.

  Thank you for allowing me to create stories to share with you.

  “…He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.”

  John 8:7

  I SIT WITH my chin resting on my bent knees, listening to the sounds which seep through the small space underneath the door. The unmistakable stench infiltrates my nostrils and the meager contents of my stomach threaten to rise. A deep voice bellows with vulgar grunts. Moments later, I hear his victorious shout followed by muffled cries of defeat.

  It’s over. I know I will be next.

  As the heavy footsteps draw near, life and death are weighed in each hand. The choice is clear; I choose to live.

  I lie perfectly still and close my eyes, feeling cowardly and ashamed.

  Remy

  “DAMMIT,” I SWEAR under my breath as I wheel my bike around the mountain of ripped garbage bags piled beside the overflowing dumpster. “Oh God, that smells awful.” I hold my breath and glance around to make sure the rats haven’t come out for their breakfast buffet. I roll past the other dumpster before finally stopping at the dented black door and press the doorbell for the back entrance.

  The abrupt sound of the door creaking open startles me, pulling me from mental thoughts convincing, or perhaps, reminding myself of several things. First, it is a sin to use the Lord’s name in vain. Second, the sun will rise and set today. Lastly, no matter what happens it can always be worse. I can only pray it doesn’t get any worse than it did last night.

  I meet Jenna’s wide eyes as she holds the door open. I walk along beside my bike before resting it against the door which leads down to the musty, dank basement.

  “Uh…you’re a little late!” Jenna comments with a raised eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

  I sigh out of frustration and give her a look of warning. “It was a bad night.” I quickly wash my hands in the large stainless steel sink as I absentmindedly read the handwritten sign that reminds employees to wash their hands before returning to work. “Thanks.” I take the paper towel and quickly dry my hands before reaching for the short black apron she holds out for me. “It’s already busy today. You gonna be okay?”

  “Do I have a choice?” I laugh humorlessly, slipping the apron on over my uniform and following her through the kitchen into the diner. I stop for a moment to apologize to my boss. “Sorry, Len,” I toss a sympathetic glance at the owner who’s busy manning the grill and the fry-o-lator at the same time.

  “Just get out there. We’ll talk later.” He grunts but then smiles softly. “Psst…” I turn back before I exit through the swinging double doors. Lenny’s gruff voice whispers, “You could run this place by yourself. Jenna can’t.” My mouth drops open with mock surprise even though I know it’s true. Lenny and I are like a well-oiled machine. With a quick wink, he manages to put a weak smile on my face. “Gotcha. I got your back, Lenny.”

  I scan the restaurant, deciding where to start. The line by the register is ridiculously long with people needing to cash out and get on with their day. The irritated looks on their faces beg for my attention. Quickly, I cash them out and wish them a lovely day as I hand back their change and a couple of Wint-O-Green Lifesavers, courtesy of Lenny. He seems to think it’s the small things in life that make us happy. It’s his little way of paying it forward. He says you never get a second chance to make a first impression.

  I hear the bell jingle on the door as new customers come in. Our usual, cheerful greeting falls by the wayside as the morning rush seems never ending. I try to make eye contact and pay attention to the wrinkled old, impatient faces and the young, smiling ones, but they all blur together after a while. I’m sure I couldn’t possibly pick a single one of them out of a lineup. Faces tend to blend into one another, especially when you’ve got the fear of God in you. I’m distracted briefly when I see him stride in and sit at the far end of the counter. His is a face I’d never forget.

  Instinctively, I lick my lips, silently wishing for one, just one, taste of his. God knows I’d never get more than that; he’s the carrot dangling on a string to my silly bunny. I chew on my bottom lip, remembering how he pressed his naked body against mine or how he trailed kisses from my neck down to my core, giving his tongue permission to work its magic and bringing me to incredible heights.

  “Remy!” Jenna yells, snapping me out of the reverie of last night’s dream. Mortified by my erotic dream, I had lain in bed in the early hours of the morning, forcing myself to keep my hands above the covers. When my eyes eventually fluttered open, I was late for work. Damn you, sexy, gorgeous man for invading what precious little time I had during my subconscious state of sleep!

  This man has been coming in almost every day for a couple of weeks. Most days he just grabs a muffin and coffee to go before he waits by the bus that goes across the city. I find myself tilting my head, staring at him while he eats his breakfast. Some mornings he scrolls through his phone, other times like today, he sits in absolute silence. I remember the first time he came in and actually sat down to eat. He sat in the same exact seat at the far end of the breakfast counter. Jenna noticed him first. He’d just finished a run; he was panting and breathing hard. He asked for a glass of water without ice. His T-shirt was drenched in sweat forming a V in the material. He lowered his head as he pulled the black T-shirt up by the hem and wiped the moisture rolling down from his hairline to his temples. Our eyes, Jenna’s and mine, drifted down from his hidden face to his incredible rock solid abs, ripped with lean muscle that was covered with glistening sweat. We stood there staring like fools, our eyes lingering a bit longer until Lenny told us to close our mouths and deliver the food before it got cold. Like soldiers following strict marching orders, we said, “Yes, Sir,” clicked our he
els and got back to work.

  While he consumed his breakfast, I watched him from afar. I watched his every move. I watched him remove his cap and run his hands through his dirty blond hair. I watched the way his blue eyes stared into the coffee cup. I watched the way his chest rose and fell with deep sighs. Even through the damp fabric I could tell how sculpted his chest was. Something in me wanted to walk right up to him and lift the short sleeve that covered his right bicep to get a better look at the tribal tat that circles around the hard muscle. When he adjusted his baseball cap so the brim faced backward, I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly perfect his face was. A sun-kissed face was home to luscious lips, a straight nose, ocean blue eyes and a perfectly sculpted jaw. It was the kind of face that comes from a long line of good family genes; it could make a girl forget her own name. Jenna swore that he must’ve been a model, signed with the agency that was doing a photo shoot down by the harbor. He certainly could be; he’s got the height and an incredible body. He is unlike anything I’ve ever seen…at least in person.

  I walk over to the register and tap on the keys to ring out a tab. I can feel my heart beat faster as my palms begin to sweat. Using the back of my hand, I swipe across my forehead, checking to see if I’m running a fever because all of a sudden, my body temperature rises and I feel as though I’m on fire. A tingling warm sensation spreads from the ends of my short hair to my toes, hidden in old tattered Nike sneakers. Nonchalantly, I glimpse over and find him looking in my direction. I want to turn to see if anyone is behind me; there’s no possible way he’s looking at me. With a hard gaze and an intense expression marring his handsome face, he captures my attention and holds me hostage.

  I swallow nervously but hold his gaze, studying him as if he were the subject in a case study. Using what I’ve learned in my recent classes, I try to gauge what he’s thinking. What’s the deal with the deep pensive stare or the furrowed eyebrows that seem aimed at me? I wrack my brain wondering if I’ve ever seen him outside of the diner. The answer is a definitive no.Blinking lazily, he finally wields the proverbial white flag and surrenders, breaking our intense staring contest and turns his attention back to what’s left of his breakfast.

  Shane

  “SIR, YES, SIR. I understand. Stay close behind.” The young man stood eye to eye with me, raising his deep voice to be a man, to be what was expected of him, to be all that he could be, but he couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes.

  “Warm up?” an impatient voice sighs, distracting me away from the bottom of the brown coffee mug. It’s the shade of brown of dry parched dirt which seems to continue for hundreds of miles with no end in sight.

  As the voice fills my ears, I slowly look up realizing where I am and look around the small diner in a bit of a haze. I swivel on the vinyl covered stool and prop my elbows up along the long veneer countertop. I blink away the memory, hoping it will take me far away from the place that haunts me. “Do you want more coffee or not?” she asks again, clearly agitated at my lack of response.

  Something about her no nonsense tone reels me in and pulls me back to reality. Just as I open my mouth to speak to the young woman with short, light blond hair she turns away from me, angling her head to answer a question from someone I can’t see. One hand is on her hip while the other holds a glass carafe, ready to pour.

  I watch her face light up with a smile. “Oh, you say that to all the girls, Mr. Johnson.” With an aged voice I hear him whisper, “But you’re special.” She winks at him and calls him a hopeless romantic. I lean forward to catch a glimpse of the person who made this pretty girl smile like that. The old man, wearing a red T-shirt and a black United States Veterans hat, has got to be well into his eighties. “Get over here you,” she says as she leans over the counter and kisses his cheek. “Thank you, darling.” With a smile on his face, he buries his nose in the newspaper.

  She catches me staring at their interaction and I quickly turn away, slightly embarrassed at having witnessed an intimate moment. I wonder briefly if they’re related. He’s old enough to be her grandfather or even her great-grandfather.I blink several times as the memory of my own grandfather comes to mind. Endless summer days on his farm, waking up at the crack of dawn and tending to the animals. Swimming and fishing in the river at the end of the property. Smoking cigarettes and drinking beer behind the old red barn.

  “Last chance. Coffee or not?” She places the check next to the white dish where only crumbs remain.

  “Sure, why not?” I slide the cup toward her and watch as her petite hand takes the mug by the handle and she fills it with piping, hot fresh coffee. I follow the trail of steam into the air. When it dissipates, I open my mouth to thank her, but she’s gone, already having moved down the long counter to refill other diners’ drinks. Trying to steady my hand, I drink the black coffee in silence and watch her as I listen to the voices that meld into one.

  “C’mon, girls. Food’s up! Let’s go!” Curt shouts for someone to pick up the plates that have been sitting in the window cause me look around the fifties-themed diner. Almost every booth is taken by people getting an early start to their day. Business men scroll through their phones while others read the Boston Globe or Wall Street Journal. An elderly couple sits alongside one other in a booth for two. My lips form a small smile when I see him stab his fork into the waffle and feed it to the woman who I presume is his wife.She looks at him, smiles and then leans into his shoulder. In the booth across from them are two women wearing workout clothes. Both are laughing obnoxiously, regaling the events of a party and talking about who left with whom. They point to a young runner who is stretching just outside the window; he seems completely oblivious to their ogling. The woman with dark red hair catches me looking at her but turns away shyly. Her friend, the woman with short, curly light brown hair, glances over her shoulder, pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and smiles seductively at me.

  “Hi,” she mouths.

  I offer a tight smile and return to my coffee. I don’t think what she’s offering is on the menu here at Lenny’s Luncheonette. I scoff quietly at her unnecessary and definitely unwanted advances. A quick fuck with some random woman is the last thing I need right now.

  Realizing the time, I look at the check, grab a bill out of my pocket, slap it down onto the counter and slide them both away from me. I tip back the last of my tepid coffee and stand, knowing that I need to catch the next bus if I want to make it to work on time. Even though the students don’t start for another few weeks or so, I’ve got a shitload of schedules to finish and curriculum meetings everyday this week.

  “All set?” the same voice asks, but I notice the impatience is now somewhat gone, replaced by a softer tone.

  “I am. Thanks.”

  She reaches for the bill as I pass it to her. Our fingers graze slightly and my eyes flash to hers. What the hell is that? A tingle, a current of energy, moves from my fingertips straight through me. It feels as if I’ve touched static electricity except it doesn’t hurt. My hand isn’t the only part of my body that feels it as my dick immediately stiffens. Thank God my dress pants will shield this unwarranted and untimely erection.

  Big, green eyes I hadn’t really noticed before now fill with surprise as she looks at me.

  “I’ll be right back.” She smiles weakly and turns away, walking in the direction of the cash register. I don’t know why I continue to stand there, watching her. I feel like a creep as my eyes travel down her petite body and that nice round ass that fills out her tight, khaki shorts. I drag my eyes down her tanned legs. I swallow hard and force my dick to remain at ease, forbidding it from standing at complete full attention.

  “Here you go.” She smiles as she hands back the change in the form of a few straightened bills and coins, topped with a few mints. I extend my hand, but pull it back when I reach into my pocket to retrieve my vibrating phone. She stands there for a moment, waiting, before she simply places several dollars and two pennies on the counter.

  “That was f
or you.” I say, pressing the button to silence my phone before reaching for the white candy.

  One of her thin eyebrows lifts in disbelief. “You’re giving me a fifteen dollar tip for a coffee and a muffin?”

  “Yeah.” I answer, not realizing that I gave her a twenty instead of a ten. “You’re good at what you do,” I chuckle, popping the mint into my mouth. I can’t exactly tell her that I made a mistake. I’d kind of look like a cheap asshole.

  “I served you coffee. I didn’t give you a lap dance,” she scoffs, narrowing her green eyes as she walks away abruptly.

  I’m stunned at her rudeness. Who does she thinks she is?

  I glance around looking to see if I’m the butt of a joke. I’m not. Everyone is going about enjoying their breakfast. I want to know what I did to cause her obnoxious reaction. Then I want her to apologize for acting like a bitch to me; it was unwarranted and unjustified. I huff in annoyance at my mental outburst. I look over at the two women who just a little while earlier wanted to seduce me. Both have narrowed eyes pinned on me. Great. I’m surrounded by bitchy women.

  When my phone starts vibrating again, I reach for it and answer the call from my sister. I push through the door and wait by the bus stop. I listen to my sister ramble on and on about her cheating husband as I look up and down the busy streets of Boston, hoping I didn’t miss the bus. I shift my weight from side to side as the anxiety starts to creep in while my eyes roam around looking for all the people who are staring at me. I glance at the old woman, but she’s watching the kid who’s covered in colorful tattoos and appears to be angry at the world. I look at the young pregnant mother pushing an infant in a small stroller while holding the hand of a toddler. I want to ask her if she knows what birth control is or if she knows who the baby daddies are. Continuously, I search for the eyes I know are on me.