by Amy Sparling
“Probably the kindest you’ll ever meet too,” Mason adds with a nod.
Suddenly I feel sheepish again. “Thanks for listening to my rants,” I mumble under my breath.
“Everyone suffers hardships every now and then,” he says in an enlightening tone. “I don’t know…maybe it’s just the universe testing us or giving us a rite of passage.”
“Listen to you, with all the answers,” I tease him although what he’s saying hits home. I feel a little inspired, even.
“The struggle ends eventually,” he tells me.
“I hope you’re right,” I say with another sip of beer going down the hatch.
“My family is on the opposite spectrum, but equally annoying,” he admits. “They are always up my ass, wanting to chime in with their opinion on what I should be doing. My mother is the worst at it, always nagging me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I tell him but what I’m really thinking is at least he has a mother who harasses him. I would love to get nagged by my own mother again.
“Everybody always wants something from me,” he notes with sadness in his voice. “I like helping, but it makes me feel alone more than anything.”
Now I feel sorry for him because his eyes look unhappy. He glances up at me. “I’m really sorry again for the rental house.”
“It’s okay,” I say politely.
“No, it’s not,” he defies. “I promise I’ll fix it up for you, to make it livable once again.”
“I appreciate that,” I whisper.
“I used to live there you know…” he trails off.
“Really?” I ask with intrigue.
He nods and sips his beer. “Yep. Many moons ago. It was my first house. I was proud of it.”
“It’s great that you are handy enough to fix it back up,” I tell him.
“It needs a hug,” he laughs, which in turn makes me giggle too.
“Indeed, it does. It needs a bear hug.” We both burst into laughter and I realize I’m having more fun with him than I expected. He’s easy to talk to, the conversation just flows smoothly. We sit at the table for a few moments and suddenly I feel tired. “I probably should get to bed,” I say and stand up, instantly feeling the world blur and fuzz in front of me.
I’m giddy, perhaps a little loopy because I’m a light weight, not accustomed to drinking frequently. I move to walk back in the house to throw away my beer bottle, but I stumble, nearly tripping over my own feet in my dizzy state.
Mason stands up to catch me before I fall on my ass. His arms feel powerful, sturdy and strong…just the anecdote I need right now. I’m vulnerable as I stare up into his passion filled, lust gazed eyes. Before I know what’s happening, the chemistry swirls with electrifying power around us.
He leans in and I close my eyes expectantly, holding my breath while clutching my heart emotionally. My fingertips are numb, my ears tingle and burn and my body melds into his as his lips press into mine, igniting a fire that swells with warmth through my belly.
Before I know it, his lips are hungrily devouring mine. The kisses start slow at first, but I hold onto him and unleash all of the lust that’s built up over the last hour. He tastes like beer and honey, and I need more of his lips on mine.
“Damn you’re beautiful,” he grunts in between ravenous kisses.
Desire fills me as I sit on top of him, straddling his lap with my legs going across his. I run my hands through his lush, perfect hair and feel the tiny hint of stubble as my fingers move over his face, grazing his cheeks.
I want more, I want him…but it’s too fast… too soon.
I know it’s a mistake. I’m acting with liquid courage of my beer buzz. He must feel it too, because he gently picks me up by the hips and places me on the bench beside him.
“Fuck,” he says with exasperation. “I’m sorry.”
I mean to say something, but I don’t. I’m too dazed, too woozy, too high on the feeling of his body pressed against mine. He gets up and slips inside quicker than I can react.
I’m hanging by a thread, as I sit there alone, in the darkness with only the stars in the sky to comfort me, but they are a million miles away. I wonder if he’ll ever come back, but after several minutes that morph into eternity, I realize he’s not going to come back.
Humiliation shames me and flushes my cheeks with intense heat. I feel like shit. What the hell was I thinking? He probably thinks I’m a huge, mooching slut now. I walk back inside and lock the sliding glass door behind me. I rhythmically shut off the lights as I trek back to my room and climb into the bed, tucking the sheets around me.
Still fully clothed, I lay there wide awake and staring at the ceiling, trying to tame the beating of my wild heart.
Chapter 15
I walk away. I go straight inside without another word. I know it’s rude as hell. My mama taught me much better than this. Still, I head through the kitchen, to the stairs, then down the hallway to my master bedroom. I close the door behind me, and then I lock it.
Livi is still down there, probably in shock and wondering where the hell I’ve run off to. Maybe she thinks I’m coming right back. Maybe she’s pissed. I owe her the decency of an explanation, but I just can’t look at her again, not right now. She’s a beautiful girl, too beautiful.
She’s cute and fun … too cute and fun. Those are the exact qualities that always get me in trouble. Those girls ruin me. And I’m done being ruined.
I stand here in my room, staring at my bed and dresser and TV, all things that have nothing to do with her. I miss her lavender scent, the trail of cuteness she leaves behind her. My room is all me, and nothing of her, and it’s the exact type of sterile environment I need right now, yet for some reason here I am going back to the door. I grab the doorknob, cradling it in my fist while I contemplate whether I should go back downstairs to her.
I’m not a total asshole, but as I stand there considering my next move, my feet root into the floor until they feel like lead kettlebells. I just can’t go back down there. Whatever I’d say, whatever I’d do – it wouldn’t be enough. Best case scenario, she’s pissed at me. Worst case, I’d kiss her again.
Heaving a remorseful sigh, I back away from the door and lay face down on my bed. I just can’t do it. I’m not a coward, but I can’t get wrapped up in romance and all the fuzzy headed drama that comes along with being in a relationship with a woman. I’m a closed book for now, until the emotional wounds of my heart heal enough to even remotely trust another woman again. I don’t see that happening any time soon.
Part of me feels guilty for leaving her outside on the deck, alone and helpless. She’s already feeling vulnerable…I understand that much. She’s in a huge house, all alone in the world and now I’ve run off without a word after we kissed.
That kiss.
As incredible as it was, it can never happen again. I need to start thinking with my brain and not with the pistol between my legs. The poor girl just needs a place to live, not a guy. God, I probably ruined her night. Now she might think I’m some pervert who wants her to pay rent in sex. Fuck.
Leaving the bedroom door, I walk to the bathroom and give myself a good hard look in the mirror. The person staring back at me reflects anguish and uncertainty…not the best combination. I need to find a way to apologize, to make things right. I’ll let her know I’m not some asshole who wants to use her. But I’ll have to do that tomorrow. Surely she’ll understand.
I turn on my shower and undress, throwing my clothes into the hamper in my closet. They crumble in a heap, much like my emotions. By now I hope Livi won’t subject herself to any further torture and will throw in the towel and go to bed. Surely, she’s not still down there outside, sitting by herself. Well, at least that’s the hope I’m aiming for here.
By now, too much time has passed and it would just be awkward for me to go down there now and try to explain my relationship woes and phobias to her. She won’t understand my issues anyway, and will probably just end up thinking I�
�m a lying asshole, so why bother?
I step into the shower and keep it on the cold setting. I need to cool down a bit and provide some refreshment to my searing skin. I’m hot and flushed with indecision over what to do about the Livi situation. I’ll just try to avoid her at all costs because I don’t have the heart to tell her to take her problems somewhere else.
Standing with my back to the nozzle, I allow the water to pelt at my skin, spraying me off and helping my blazing attraction to Livi even out and simmer down for a while. I stare at the water as it splashes against the slate tile on the floor and runs down to the drain. What was I thinking bringing a hot girl into my house? I’m baffled at my own sheer stupidity to think that I’d be able to resist her.
Livi has awesome qualities that make her seem like a great catch, but even with all the bells and whistles, I have to guard my heart and keep her at bay no matter the cost. By now, I suspect she’s probably curled into a ball in the guest bedroom…wondering where the hell she went wrong tonight.
I wish I could run downstairs and explain to her that she’s a great girl and has everything to offer the right man…but I’m just not him. She’s already running low on self-esteem, that much is apparent by the way she cried in front of me tonight. She’s a girl down on her luck, and she was probably feeling like she had nothing to lose by kissing me.
I kissed her first though. I can’t forget that I am the initiator, and now I’ve left her hanging…wondering and clinging to something that I can’t give her now, or ever. I cringe when I remember how compelled I was in the moment, completely enthralled by her feminine presence and cute haircut. Her deep brown eyes still burn in the back of my mind, and I wish I could forget how it makes me shiver with yearning with the way she looks at me.
She’s just so beautiful, perfect and sweet. I can still feel her tantalizing lips connecting with mine and that’s scaring the hell out of me. My internal urges got the better of me, but as I step out of the shower and pat myself dry, I vow to never let it happen again.
I swore off women, too bitter from past relationships that went sour. Yeah, it’s true that on the surface Livi seems genuine, kind and down to earth. That’s what all girls want you to believe, until they swoop in and reel you in. Then, they stomp on your heart until you’re bleeding from the pain. I can’t go down that road again.
I walk to my dresser and pull out a pair of boxer shorts and step into them, then head to the bed, sagging back onto my pillows. I turn on the TV, but I’m too distracted to pay attention to the mindless late-night crap that’s on. I switch the tv off again in an aggressive huff, groan and lay on my side. I’ll probably never get to sleep tonight.
My last two girlfriends really set the stage for screwing me up, big time. Both relationships crashed and burned, and early on they both seemed cute and nice just like Livi. I can’t trust a woman I don’t know, plain and simple. I’m not really sure I can trust a woman I do know, at least one that isn’t related to me.
I reach over the nightstand and turn off the lamp. Now, blanketed in darkness, I lay there wondering how I’m going to live in a house with a woman who turns me on. I can’t possibly kick her out, not when she has nowhere else to go. Not that I’d want her to leave. I’ll just have to make sure to stay as far away from her as possible. It won’t be hard to accomplish; the house is so vastly huge she’ll probably get swallowed up on her side while I stay safe on mine.
We’ll both be at work during the day, so I won’t have to worry about those hours, but I might have to get creative in the evenings. I hate the idea of being a prisoner in my own home, having to forbid myself from wandering around wherever I please. I just have to remind myself that this is only a temporary arrangement, and that soon I’ll fix up my old house and she’ll get to move into that.
But then I’d be her landlord, and I’ll still see her on occasion. I groan and pull the pillow over my head. I don’t have to fall in love with her, but I should make due on my end of the bargain. The faster I get the rental house in order and in livable condition, the faster she can move out and leave me in peace once again.
Chapter 16
Three weeks seems like an eternity when you’re still suffering the lingering humiliation of a wrong kiss. It certainly hadn’t felt wrong at the time, but it was. I should not have kissed Mason. He should not have kissed me. That whole night was a mistake.
I can’t even pretend it wasn’t a mistake because I haven’t seen him…not even once since that night out on his back deck. Mason has totally disappeared. Sometimes I hear him walking around the house at night, a trip to the kitchen or the creak of the large staircase, but I don’t seek him out and he hasn’t sought me out, either. This whole thing is so awkward.
I’m still cringing internally and every time I pull up in the driveway at his lake house, my heart races with anticipation, just praying that I won’t see his truck already parked there. It’s best if I just slip in through the garage door, head to my room, and stay there.
That part of my life is weird, but things at the bakery couldn’t be better. I’m getting into a daily routine, and the returning customers and I are building up repertoire, and even a little friendship. It reminds me of when Grandma and I were the customers and Keesha and Alexa always knew our names when we came in. Now, I’m the friendly employee, and hopefully none of my regular customers will die on me any time soon.
I haven’t spoken to my uncle or my dad since they both threw me out on my face, and part of me wants to call them up and tell them I’m doing just fine without their help. But the other part of me, the rational part, just keeps quiet. If they don’t care about me, I don’t have to care about them.
When I come to work each morning, I temporarily forget the fact that I’m living for free in a stranger’s mansion, basically confined to the compounds of my room that’s tucked away on the first floor. I really want to play some air hockey or hang out on the back patio by the pool, but it’s all too awkward.
Routine and duty calls as I walk into the bakery before dawn on a lazy weekday morning. No matter what, Alexa is always already inside, working diligently in the kitchen with flour up to her elbows.
“Good morning!” She waves a slippery butter-covered hand in my direction as I walk to the back and hang my jacket in my locker.
“Hi,” I greet her and exchange the jacket for an apron adorning the Sweets Bakery logo.
One of my many tasks at the bakery is to arrive early with Alexa. We’ve developed a routine of sharing girl talk and lighthearted gossip over a cup of coffee before the store opens.
Alexa bakes the sweets, preparing cupcakes, muffins, and donuts galore while I help her mop, sweep, wash dishes and make the bakery shine. I’m still in recovery mode from losing my grandma, but each day that passes heals the wound a little further. I like to think she’s proud of me for picking up without her.
Her legacy will live on in my heart forever and snagging up the job at Sweets Bakery just seems fitting for this chapter in my life because Grandma loved it here.
The only void in my life is knowing that when I get home after my shift each afternoon, I feel like I’m not even welcome where I dwell and sleep. Mason hasn’t said I’m not welcome, but his absence and silence speaks louder than words ever can.
I hate to be a bother to him, and it is his house after all. I don’t want him to feel like he can’t wander around peacefully in his own home, so I try to stay away as much as possible. Luckily for both of us, our schedules are somewhat conflicting which appeals to the fact that it’s easy to skirt past one another and dodge an unwanted confrontation.
Due to the fact that I arrive at the bakery around six o’clock in the morning, my shift is already over by two in the afternoon. I’m home for several hours before Mason gets there usually because he doesn’t close up at his motorcycle shop until after six in the evening, sometimes later.
I make sure to live like a recluse, because I don’t want to overstep my boundaries. It would be my
worst nightmare to be lounging on the couch with an iced tea and a snack and then get caught by Mason coming home early or something. He had said I could help myself to whatever I wanted, but that was before the kiss, before he walked out after the kiss.
I am uncomfortable enough because he hasn’t said a word to me or shown his face since our kiss. Like I said before. He doesn’t actually have to come right out and say that he doesn’t want me around, his actions speak to that effect on their own.
So now, I’m only brave enough to venture out as far as the kitchen, and that’s limited to a few times too…only when I’m hungry or thirsty but I try to keep a case of waters in my room so I don’t have to bother him by coming out of my room a lot. It’s a sad quality of life outside of the bakery, and I know I need to work toward a balance and cut to the root of the problem.
I get through the nights giving myself pep talks in the mirror, just telling myself that this is only a temporary fix and eventually I’ll get a place of my own where I can come and go as I please and not have to worry about stepping on anybody else’s toes.
Alexa starts talking, pulling me out of my thoughts and back to reality.
“How are you this morning?” she asks as she pours sugar into her industrial mixing bowl. She’s smiling, and it lets me know she has no clue about my weirdness with her cousin at home. That’s probably for the best. If Alexa knew there was a problem, she’d try to fix it.
When Alexa smiles, it lights up not only her expression, but the whole room as well. You can feel the natural kindness simply radiating all around you. I try to think of something pleasant to respond with, but I cringe and turn red, even though it’s been three weeks since that steamy makeout session with Mason.
“Um…I’m good. Really good,” I lie and grin, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“I love your jeans, where’d you get them?” Alexa asks with enthusiasm, placing a hand on her hip while turning around to check me out.
