“I had no idea,” Livvy said in a quiet voice. She thought of her vibrant mother, who was still running half-marathons; Livvy had never really caught the running bug. Mason’s mother must have been quite young when she died.
“My dad was never the same,” Mason continued. “He was the high school basketball coach where I played and went to school, and we were already at odds with each other most of the time. Our relationship only deteriorated after my mom died. A few years ago, he had a massive heart attack.”
Livvy covered her mouth.
“I can’t say I was surprised that he died that way,” Mason said in a matter-of-fact tone. “He lived with a lot of anger for a long time. It finally caught up with him.”
“What was he angry about?” She lowered her hand. “Your mother’s death?”
“He was angry he didn’t make her see the doctor sooner,” Mason said. “He was angry when she refused chemotherapy. He was angry when I fouled out in games, and when I did it during the state championship, he never let go of his grudge. He was angry when I accepted an athletic scholarship to play basketball out of state. He hated traveling, you see. His back hurt too much to make a long drive and he hated flying. Claustrophobic.”
“Did he ever come to your games?” she asked in a hesitant tone.
“Two games, ones that were played in neighboring states.” Mason shrugged. “Then I blew my knee out.”
He might have been acting nonchalant, and several years might have passed, but the pain was still evident in his eyes. Livvy wondered who’d helped him through the deaths of each of his parents?
“Hey there,” a man said behind Livvy, interrupting the somber spell that had settled over their table.
Livvy turned to see Dawson Harris. “Hi, Dawson.” She ran into him once in a while, and when she’d first moved here, she once thought he was going to ask her out. But he never did, and Livvy had no regrets. She wasn’t really into lawyer types. Especially now that she knew what he’d said to Mason about staying away from her, courtesy of Slade.
Dawson grinned as if he was happier than a Cheshire cat seeing her sitting with Mason. “Nice to see you again, Mason.”
“Is it?” Mason said, his smile equally brassy.
Livvy wanted to kick both men. “Any big court cases today, Dawson?” she said to diffuse the situation.
Dawson lifted one of his eyebrows. “Not until two. Grabbing a bite to eat before some client meetings.”
“Well, good luck this afternoon,” Livvy said, pointedly dismissing him.
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Dawson nodded to Mason, then continued on his way to order at the counter.
“If he sits near us, I’m leaving,” Livvy said under her breath.
Mason’s brows popped up. “You really don’t like him?”
“I don’t like what he said to you in the gym the other day.”
This time, Mason’s smile was genuine. “You’re defending me?”
Mason had pretty much spilled his long, sad tale over breakfast, and then Livvy started acting as skittish as a hare during hunting season. She hadn’t even finished the food she’d claimed to love so much, and Mason figured that had a lot to do with Dawson Harris’s appearance.
The hardening knot in Mason’s stomach told him that Livvy hadn’t wanted to be spotted out in public with him. Yet she’d invited him and had chosen the place. Now his mind wouldn’t focus on his writing, and he was beyond frustrated. It was almost noon, and he’d written nothing.
He couldn’t see the reference desk from his position, and so he stood and walked until he spotted Livvy working on a computer. He hesitated, not wanting to disturb her, but also knowing that they needed to talk about a few things before he could focus on writing again.
Only a couple of tables were occupied, and no one seemed to be paying attention to Mason. So he made his way to the reference counter.
Livvy lifted her head as he approached. Something like guilt filled her expression, and she clicked her mouse a few times before turning to face him.
“Hey,” Mason said.
Lines appeared between her brows. “How do you do it all?”
This wasn’t what Mason had expected her to say. “What do you mean?”
Livvy bit her lip, and Mason tried not to notice the berry color. Her usually pale pink lips were now darker and shinier. She must be wearing lip gloss.
“Your parents are both gone,” she said, “and you went through a serious injury in college, and then the lawsuit last year—”
“Whoa, whoa,” Mason said, holding up his hand. “Life’s hard for everyone. I hope you don’t think I was dumping on you at breakfast.”
“No, not at all.” Livvy pushed away from the reference counter and came around to stand by him. “I’m only wondering who, besides your agent, supports you.”
Mason shrugged. “My editor is pretty nice—most of the time. And I have a couple of writing buddies I see once or twice a year at events.”
Livvy kept staring at him, and Mason was beginning to feel too warm.
“You’re missing the beard, aren’t you?” he teased. He wanted to see the happy Livvy, not the serious one looking at him.
“Mason,” she said, then took a deep breath. She grasped his arm and tugged him forward.
Surprised, he moved with her until she stopped in one of the book aisles, out of sight from anyone who might come into the library. She released his arm and rested her hands on her hips.
“I think I know why you got writer’s block,” she said in a low voice. “I mean, you’ve gone through a lot, and you’ve dealt with it all on your own, until it became too much. The lawsuit was like the tipping scale.”
He had no idea where she was going with this, but standing so close together in a secluded aisle of books was probably not the best idea. She smelled like cinnamon and vanilla and something sweeter. Berries. Was it the lip gloss?
“Most people have someone to talk to when they’re going through a hard time,” she continued.
“Believe me, my agent and publisher and two lawyers were always having conference calls,” Mason said. She was definitely wearing lip gloss. “They talked so much, I started getting headaches.”
But Livvy wasn’t deterred. “I meant talking to someone who cares about you, beyond your career. Someone who doesn’t have a monetary interest or financial investment.”
“Like a shrink?”
Livvy swatted his arm and scoffed. “No. Like a girlfriend, or a wife, or a friend you can confide in.”
“And... your point?”
She folded her arms. “My point is that once you started coming to the library and spent time around regular people, even if you weren’t talking to them, you could suddenly write.” A smile touched the edges of her berry lips. “You need people, Mason.”
An interesting theory, he decided, though one that he could probably argue with.
She lifted her hand and pressed a finger against his chest. “I’m going to organize a small get-together. I’ll invite my best friends, and you can get to know more people in Pine Valley. Who knows, maybe you’ll like my friends and they’ll become your friends, too.”
Mason exhaled. He leaned toward her a few inches and placed a hand on the bookcase shelf behind her. “I don’t think so.”
More lines appeared between her brows, but she didn’t move away from his nearness. “You won’t even consider it?”
“I have that deadline I told you about, remember?” Mason scanned her face, from her brown eyes to her berry lips to the freckle just above her mouth. “And why would I spend time with other people when I already know that I’d prefer to hang out with one person?”
She blinked.
“Did you know you have a freckle above your lip?” he said in a low voice.
She raised her chin slightly, and he lifted his hand at the same time. With one finger he touched her freckle.
“My mom used to tell me it was an angel kiss,” she whispered against his
finger.
The edges of her clothing brushed against the edges of his, creating a dangerous heat between them. His breathing went shallow, matching hers, and his pulse drummed hard. It would be so easy to kiss her right now, and he didn’t think she’d complain. But she had a boyfriend. And unless she called things off with Slade—
Livvy grasped the collar of his shirt and pulled him toward her. And then her mouth was on his, or his was on hers. It was hard to know who’d started kissing whom first. All Mason knew was that her mouth was sweet and warm and she tasted of sugar and cinnamon and everything he couldn’t have.
Mason kept one hand gripping the bookshelf as he deepened the kiss. He moved his other hand behind her neck, tangling his fingers into her curls. Her hair was soft, and she seemed to melt against him as they kissed. Livvy released his collar, then trailed her hands down his chest, making him shudder at her touch.
He felt her smile against his mouth. She was being a little vixen, and as if to prove that point, she slid her hands around his torso, anchoring him against her.
“Livvy,” he whispered, trying to make sense of the rising passion between them. “We shouldn’t be—”
“No talking in the library,” she whispered, cutting off all protest.
He chuckled and let go of the bookshelf, then skimmed his hand down her back. Their kissing slowed, but the heat only built, and Livvy didn’t seem to be letting go any time soon. Mason certainly wasn’t going to stop her, but he was also aware that they were kissing in the library, with only a shelf of books separating them from anyone who might walk by. Plus Livvy was off limits. Yet who was he to remind her?
The heat of her mouth, the softness of her curves, the tug of her hands on his clothing to drag him closer, all swirled together in his mind until everything else was forgotten. The snow. The boyfriend. The lawsuit. The deadline.
In this space, and in this moment, only he and Livvy existed.
He moved his hand along the curve of her waist as he kissed her warm mouth, then he settled both hands on her hips, noting how perfectly she fit against him.
She sighed. “Mason.”
“What?” he murmured.
“Nothing,” she whispered.
And then they were kissing again. Mason rotated so that his back was against the shelves. She rose up on her toes, making her face more level with his. He sensed her returning to earth as she drew away and met his gaze.
“Livvy . . .” he tried again.
But she shook her head, wrapped her arms about his neck, then nestled her face against his skin. Her warm breath tickled his neck, and he broke out in goose bumps.
He closed his eyes and ran his hand up her back, over her shoulders, skimming her neck, then slid his thumb along the soft skin of her jaw.
“Please don’t throw any parties.” He felt her smile against his skin. “You’re all the distraction I can take.”
“What about Thanksgiving?” she whispered.
“I don’t like turkey.”
She drew away from him then, not too far though, so that she was still in his arms. “You’re kidding.”
He kissed the edge of her jaw. “I’m not kidding.”
“What do you usually do for Thanksgiving?” she asked, her eyes fluttering shut as he kissed the edge of her mouth.
“Write, watch football, bake frozen pizza. Write some more.”
Her lips curved upward, and he kissed her freckle.
“You’re a nut,” she said with a laugh.
“Probably.” He kissed her lips this time. She didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, and he wondered if he’d ever become so lost in a woman before.
The sound of voices came from the direction of the reference desk, and it was clear that someone was asking where the librarian was.
Livvy drew away, although she didn’t release him. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips rosy, and her eyes smiling. “I think I’d better go.”
“Do you want me to wait here for you?”
She stifled a laugh. “Uh, I should get back to work, and you should too.”
Mason slid his hands down her arms and linked their fingers. “I’m going to the gym for a couple of hours.”
“What are you doing tonight?” she asked.
“Depends on you,” he said.
She released one of his hands and pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “Put your number in my phone. I’ll be right back.”
He took the phone, then kissed her forehead before he completely released her.
After she left, he pulled up her contacts and added his name and number, then the address of his cabin, even though she knew where it was. His heart was still racing, and he didn’t want to analyze what had just happened between them. Or wonder what it had meant—to her—or to him.
She was still at the reference desk when his head started to clear. Things were getting complicated in Pine Valley. He’d spent the morning either thinking about Livvy or kissing her, and now he had nothing written. He hoped that a long run in the gym might put him back into the frame of mind to write this afternoon.
He walked through the library, gathered up his things, then set Livvy’s cell phone on the reference counter while she was still talking to an older couple about something to do with the history of Pine Valley. She glanced up at him, an adorable blush coloring her face, and he winked, then strode out of the building.
The cold wind bit into his skin, blowing away all the warmth he’d sustained from Livvy.
As he made his way through the parking lot, the complication of being in a relationship with a woman like Livvy began to force itself to his cognizance. Her boyfriend was the first hurdle. How serious were they? And what about the fact that Mason lived in San Diego? Not to mention, he could feel himself becoming distracted from his book. He’d had three great weeks, and now he was putting that in jeopardy.
He unlocked his Jeep and climbed into the cold interior. Starting the engine, he turned up the heat full blast. Had Livvy been right? Did he need more human interaction? Was that why writing in the library had been what broke through his block? Could he do both... be with Livvy and get his manuscript done?
Mason groaned as he steered onto the main road. Kissing Livvy had been amazing. She was amazing. Beautiful, witty, soft, sexy. Too tempting. And despite his resolve to not overanalyze their kiss in the library—well, kissing session—he wondered what it had meant to her... She was the one who had the boyfriend. Would she tell Slade? Would she brush off Mason?
Would she play both sides?
No, Mason decided. She wasn’t the type.
What type was she? She was a nice girl, the girl-next-door type, who trusted people. Gave them lots of chances. She didn’t even curse. Mason groaned again. What had he done? He had no place in her life. She was settled in Pine Valley, ran the gorgeous library, and dated the most eligible bachelor in town—and... Mason was a fly-by-night.
He already knew he wasn’t her type. He’d been alone since his mother had died, which seemed so long ago that he couldn’t remember what it felt like to have any type of love in his life. Not that he was in love with Livvy or thought he would fall in love with her.
Maybe if the circumstances were completely different. Maybe if he’d met her in San Diego. And she was the librarian there and didn’t have a doctor boyfriend. Maybe... maybe... maybe . . .
Livvy might have knocked a little too aggressively on Felicity’s door, because when she answered it, her green eyes were like giant saucers behind her turquoise-rimmed glasses.
“You okay?” Felicity asked.
“No,” Livvy declared, moving past her friend and into the living room. She sank onto the couch and pulled her knees up to her chest. “I kissed him. I mean it was more of a make out. And it was amazing . . .” She groaned and buried her face in her hands. She felt the cushion shift next to her.
Felicity grasped her shoulder. “Wait. That’s a good thing, right? You finally broke the ice with Slade—so what if you had to instigat
e it? He probably didn’t mind in the least—”
Livvy raised her head and stared at her friend. “You don’t understand,” she said in a choked voice. “I kissed Mason.”
Felicity’s eyebrows popped up. “Mason? The writer? Lumberjack man? Mr. Dark & Broody?”
“Stop,” Livvy choked out. “And yes, I kissed Mason Rowe. A lot. In the library.”
Felicity opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“I know.” Livvy sighed. “I have no words either. I practically jumped him, and then he even tried to warn me, but I was like a crazy woman. He was just so... And I was... He shaved his beard, did I tell you? He shaved it for me. And those blue eyes of his seem to always look right into my soul, and it was like I couldn’t not kiss him. You know?”
Felicity was still staring at her, saying nothing. And then her mouth quirked.
“You are not going to laugh at me.”
Felicity turned away, covering her mouth.
“It’s not funny,” Livvy said. “He’s working on a deadline—for a major book that will probably be a New York Times bestseller—and I just accosted him in a book aisle.”
Felicity was laughing now, there was no denying it.
Livvy leaned her head back on the couch and closed her eyes. “What am I going to tell Slade?”
Felicity stopped laughing.
Livvy didn’t dare open her eyes to see the expression on Felicity’s face now. Livvy’s stomach hadn’t stopped flipping since, well, since this morning when Mason had told her about his family. She didn’t know why she’d thought kissing him would be a good idea in any universe.
Perhaps the beard had been the thing to keep her from grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him toward her the day before, or the day before that... But had that been all it took? Mason to shave his beard? No... Mason was attractive, kind, funny, broody—yes, smart . . .
But she’d dated Slade four months before they’d kissed, and he was her dream man. Her doctor. And she’d never made a move first, until Mason.
She groaned. “Mason must think I’m a two-timer and a total floozy. I asked him to breakfast, and I paid, so that was kind of like a date. It was like my psyche was planning to attack him without my brain knowing about it.”
Until We Kissed (Pine Valley Book 6) Page 8
