Inferno - Chelle Bliss by Chelle Bliss

“Nothing, doll,” she says and pats my leg again. “Just mumbling bullshit.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I have a feeling I’ll hear more about this at a later date, so I don’t dare push. She’s already told me enough, probably more than I would’ve told someone in her position.

“Can you be here on Monday at nine? Pete needs a few more days.”

“Don’t you want to see my portfolio first?”

“Of course, but I know I’m going to love it, and anyway, I really need the help. I’m sure you’ll be able to slide right in and take a ton off my plate.”

“Nine works,” I tell her, dropping any argument. She’s offering me a job, and I’m being an idiot by trying to talk her out of it.

“We’ll talk about pay when I see your work. If you change your mind then, no harm, no foul.”

“Okay,” I say, sitting up a little straighter, trying to contain my excitement about finally landing a job in my field. “Am I allowed to freelance with other customers and companies?”

“Of course. Don’t be silly. Get all the work you can while you can.”

“Thanks, Tamara. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, Opal. Just give my bonehead cousin a shot, and we’ll call it even.”

I can do that. I was already going to give him a shot. He’s been nicer to me than anyone else has been in almost a decade.

So far, I don’t know what I like more, Stone or his family, but I know I want to be part of them in any way possible. I’ll do whatever I can to make it possible, and if there is a white picket fence and wedding bells in the future, I’ll be a-fucking-okay with that too.





13





STONE





“I’m so nervous.” Opal runs her palms up and down the thighs of her jeans. “Am I being ridiculous?” she asks, glancing in my direction. “I feel like I want to jump out of my skin.” I’ve convinced her to leave her portfolio in the car until later. She’s worried enough about meeting my family without adding that right away.

I stare at her, soaking in her beauty. “Do you want to leave? I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

I’d have a lot of explaining to do to my family, but screw it. If Opal wants to go somewhere else, I’ll go with her.

She turns her eyes back toward my grandparents’ house. “No. I want to go, but…”

“I promise they’ll be nice.”

She smiles. “I’m sure they will be, but what if they don’t like me?” The question is honest even if it’s entirely ridiculous.

“They love everyone, and you’ll be no different, but if you’re not comfortable, we can ditch this place and head to the beach.”

“Is it far?” she asks without taking her eyes off the front door.

“Is what far?”

“The beach.”

My mouth falls open as I stare at her profile. “You’ve never been to the beach?”

She shakes her head. “I tried once. I thought it was a beach, but it was a weird little island with trees and cement.”

“We’re going to fix that. You want to go to the beach today? I love the beach.”

She turns toward me. “Take me later,” she says softly. “I want to watch the sunset.”

“Prepare to be obsessed.”

Her eyes soften. “Why are you so easy?”

I laugh because I know I’m a complicated clusterfuck. “I’m not easy at all.” Unless we’re talking about sex, then I’m the easiest person in the world. Everything else, I’m more than happy to be difficult. But there’s something about Opal that makes me want to dive into the mundane. I’m easy for her, but no one else.

She sucks in a deep breath, rubbing her palms together, and closes her eyes. “I can do this.”

I watch in fascination, wondering if she’s about to have a full-blown panic attack. I reach out, placing my hand on her arm. “If you get overwhelmed, let me know, and we’ll leave.”

She opens her eyes, and she appears calmer than before. I’d like to think it’s because of my hand on her, but that’s my egotistical thinking. “I’m ready.” She places her hand on the door handle.

I give her arm a squeeze, bringing her attention back to me. “They’re going to love you,” I reassure her, leaving out the bit about how I’m falling in love with her. If I feel that way about her, I know they’re going to go bananas.

“Thank you,” she says before pushing open the truck door.

I release my hold on her arm before opening my door and hopping out of the cab. “You’ve got this,” I whisper to myself. “Don’t be such a goddamn douchebag.”

“What?” she asks as she rounds the front of the truck.

“Nothing,” I tell her, feeling like a moron. “Just mumbling to myself.”

“Is Fran here?” she asks, surveying all the cars and bikes in the front yard.

“Yep. She comes early to help Gram. Well…” I pause, remembering how inedible Fran’s cooking is. “She comes to keep Gram company while she cooks, at least. Fran’s cooking is shit.”