Maybe his bark was too loud, but he’d never actually bitten anyone.
Fifteen minutes later, he was free of all the traffic in the bay. He programmed in the coordinates for Long Bar Island and drew in a deep breath.
He found Ivy at the back of the boat, leaning up against the railing as the wind whipped through her hair. She looked like a vision from heaven, and Mason took a few moments to admire her.
“I can feel you staring at me.” She turned and looked over her shoulder, a small smile on those full lips.
“Sorry,” he said, taking a few steps forward and joining her. “And sorry about that in there. I was….” He exhaled heavily. “I sold my ranch in Texas, because my girlfriend.” He cleared his throat. “My fiancée broke up with me, and I couldn’t imagine living there without her.”
“Oh, wow,” Ivy said. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Mason flashed a smile in her direction, not truly looking at her. “Anyway, I was just a little flustered, and I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
She nodded and refocused on the horizon. “Do you like the ocean?”
“Love it,” he said. “I was ranching up in the panhandle of Texas. There’s not water like this there.”
“I bet not.” Ivy put off a good air, and Mason basked in the warmth of the sunshine and the vibrations of the boat moving beneath him.
“Did you take a look around?” he asked.
“A little,” she said. “I’ve never been on a yacht before.”
“Really? A woman like you?” He chuckled and leaned his elbows against the railing as he bent down. “I find that hard to believe.”
“A woman like me?”
Mason heard the acid in her tone, and he whipped his attention to her. His heart pounded in the back of his throat, and the cutting glare on her face only accelerated it.
“What does that mean?” She folded her arms, and Mason may have been out of the dating pool for a while, but he knew what folded arms meant. Trouble.
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “It just means…you’re upscale.”
“Upscale?”
How she could make that word sound undesirable, he wasn’t sure.
“You’re sophisticated,” he hurried to explain. “More so than the other women I’ve dated. That’s all. It’s good, I swear.”
Ivy narrowed her eyes as if she could detect a lie just by squinting. Mason felt one breath away from complete failure. He’d already accumulated two strikes. Would a third blunder have Ivy pulling the plug on this survival experiment?
Surprisingly, Mason didn’t want her to. He was surprised she’d shown up, and he was sure she had plenty of sob stories about her past, same as him. Otherwise, why would she be here?
“How many women answered your ad?” she asked.
Before he could answer, the yacht lurched, taking Mason’s stomach with it. “Hold that thought,” he said, turning and dashing back to the bridge. Ivy followed, arriving several seconds after him.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” he said. “I just needed to adjust the parameters on the speed.”
“You’re sure?” She looked around wildly as if they’d sink at any moment.
Mason watched her, felt the panic rolling from her. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Everything is fine.”
She wouldn’t settle, and she didn’t look at him.
“Hey,” he said, reaching up to touch her face. He guided her gaze to his. “Look at me. We’re fine. Everything’s fine.”
Ivy visibly calmed right before his eyes, and she even leaned into his touch. “Okay.”
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, stepping back so his hand would fall from her face. He tucked it into his pocket and continued to watch her.
“All of my sisters have been stranded,” she finally said. “Two of them on deserted islands after ship malfunctions.”
“Holy cow.”
Ivy smiled and shrugged, the scales of her fear disappearing. “I’d say holy starfish, but yeah.”
Starfish. She’d said it the other night too, on the chat. For some reason, it struck Mason as funny, and he started laughing. “Starfish,” he repeated amidst the chuckles.
Ivy joined him, and finally all the ice between them was broken.
“There she is,” he said, nodding toward the smudge on the horizon. “Long Bar Island.”
After he’d righted the yacht, he and Ivy had settled near the front of the ship, on one of the outdoor dining decks. Mason wasn’t overly stuffy, and he poured soda and served crackers to help keep the conversation flowing.
“I don’t see it,” Ivy said, shading her eyes with her hand.
“It’s not huge,” he said. “Probably forty square miles. I’ve been out a few times.” He tried not to let the pride seep into his voice.
“Is there—what’s on the island?” Ivy turned toward him, but he couldn’t see her eyes through the mirrored sunglasses. Since she’d put them on, Mason had found it easier to talk to her, and he had no idea what that meant.
“I built a little cabin,” he said.
“Running water?”
He almost scoffed but pulled the sound back inside his throat. “No.” He hooked his thumb behind them. “I brought a bunch of bottled water.”
Ivy nodded, folding her arms across her middle. Her nerves lifted into the air around them, and Mason let them infect him too. Suddenly, his idea of living on this island with a woman sounded utterly ridiculous.
That was probably why he’d had exactly one person message him about it. Everyone else thought it was a joke.
“Oh, I see it,” Ivy said, excitement coloring her words now. “It really is small.” She glanced at him. “If we were stuck out here and no one knew it, that island would be very hard to find.”
“Probably,” Mason said, noting her worry. “But we’re not stuck out here, and people do know where we are.”
Ivy nodded, but she didn’t unclench her arms. Mason left her standing on the bow and went to guide the ship exactly where he wanted it. He had to park quite far from the shore, as the water wasn’t deep enough to house the yacht closer to the sand. Long Bar Island had a hook on the south end with some higher rocks, and the water was decently deep there.
He stopped the yacht and dropped the anchor, the sheer enormity of tasks ahead of them overwhelming him. He’d need to make probably six trips back and forth from the yacht to the island to get the supplies and food they needed. And all of Ivy’s luggage. The bedding. All of it.
His stomach rumbled, and he stepped away from the bridge to call to Ivy. She walked toward him, and she said, “Tell me what to do to help.”
Mason smiled at her, an intense attraction moving through him that he didn’t understand. He just knew he liked that she’d volunteered to help. To work. She may be petite and blonde, but Mason liked that she wasn’t going to treat this like a vacation.
“I was thinking we could have lunch first,” he said. “It’s just past noon, and then we’ll have all afternoon to get the island set up.” He lifted his eyebrows. “What do you think?”
Ivy took a moment to answer, and then she said, “Okay. Lunch sounds great.”
“Great,” Mason said, gesturing toward the door that led inside. “I’m not great in the kitchen, but I can make grilled cheese sandwiches.”
“I hope you didn’t only bring cheese,” she said, pushing her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head.
“There’s more than cheese,” he assured her, thinking maybe she would be high-maintenance.
“Great,” she said, moving in front of him. “Because I’m lactose intolerant.”
Chapter Five
Ivy listened for Mason’s reaction behind her. Sure enough, a scoff came, albeit soft. “Really?” he asked.
“No,” she said with a giggle. She turned back to him and took a step backward, then another one. “Just wanted to see what you’d say.”
> An adorable smile lit up his face, and he ducked his head, that cowboy hat covering his eyes. But Ivy had seen them, and they were dark and dreamy and delicious. Things hadn’t started well, but Ivy never judged a relationship on the first date.
She’d known this guy for a couple of hours now, and this lunch would move them into second date territory.
She glanced around at the high-end finishes of the yacht. “This is so nice,” she said, her eyes finding luxury everywhere she looked. “Dining for eight. Wow.”
“Twelve, if I pull out the middle section,” he said, almost as if he’d memorized the owner’s manual for this yacht. “There are five cabins, each with their own bathroom.” He stepped into the kitchen and set a pan on one of the burners.
Everything about this vessel intrigued Ivy, and she wandered past the table to a beautiful seating area, complete with a huge flat-screen TV. “Will we have any days where we hang out on the yacht?”
“I have no plans for our time on the island,” Mason said, his voice slightly muffled.
Ivy glanced back toward the kitchen, but she couldn’t see him. The words from the ad ran through her head. Billionaire seeking companion to live on Long Bar Island for three months. Possible love connection wanted.
Possible.
Ivy’s feelings still stung slightly from when he’d asked her to stop asking questions. She wasn’t sure how to get to know him if she didn’t ask questions, and he certainly hadn’t been asking. But he’d apologized quickly, and their conversation after that had been easy.
Of course, she’d mostly talked about her sisters and each of their stranded experiences. Mason had seemed interested, but he didn’t add a whole lot to the conversation, and Ivy’s throat stuck to itself it was so dry.
Behind her, Mason whistled while he worked, and she found that simple action somehow comforting. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she ducked down the hall and explored the cabins on this level. Stairs led down, and there were more rooms down there.
The nicer ones—where Mason had obviously stayed previously—were on the main level, and Ivy returned there soon enough. Though she’d grown up in Getaway Bay, she hadn’t spent a lot of time on a ship. There was something unsettling about them. Maybe the way they constantly moved. Or the fact that they could sink, trapping her beneath the water too.
She wasn’t sure. No matter what it was, the seething need to get back to where she could see the sky drove her to return to the kitchen.
“There you are,” Mason said.
“Yeah, I went exploring,” she said, pulling out a chair from the dining room table and sitting down.
“Lunch is ready.” He picked up two plates and brought them over to the table. Each had a grilled cheese sandwich on it, and he turned to grab a couple of bags of potato chips and more soda.
He grinned at Ivy as he sat down, and she wondered if she could ask him a question about himself now. Instead of trying that, she picked up her sandwich and took a bite. If he didn’t want to answer questions, he should start the conversation.
He didn’t. The more seconds passed, the more uncomfortable Ivy became. It also became a game to her to see how long she could hold her tongue. The grilled cheese sandwich helped, as it was loaded with cheese and crispy and toasty on the outside.
He finished his sandwich and looked at her. “I suppose you want to know about my family.”
“Sure,” she said, practically shouting the word.
“I have a couple of brothers,” he said. “They’re older than me. They’re both married and have kids. They work a ranch called Ramble Ridge. My mother lives there with them.”
“Your family has two ranches?”
Mason’s eyes hardened for a moment. “My father had four parcels of land at one point,” he said carefully. “I inherited a…significant piece in Three Rivers. My brothers took over the main ranch when Dad passed away.”
Ivy reached over and touched his hand. A shock moved through her, and she pulled away as if his skin had caught on fire. She wasn’t sure what had just happened. Why she’d touched him at all. Her mind felt short-circuited, and all she could do was stare into Mason’s eyes.
He softened right in front of her, and she caught a glimpse of the vulnerable cowboy he probably didn’t let very many people see.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice ragged around the edges. “Losing a parent has to be hard.”
“My dad was…a rock.” Mason sighed and looked toward the sunlight coming in the windows. “I thought I was a born-and-bred cowboy. But the work became…work.”
Ivy wasn’t sure what that meant, but she nodded like she did. “So you left because ranching wasn’t fun anymore? Or because of the girlfriend?”
“Both,” he said, looking at her again. All of his shutters were back in place, carefully concealing how he really felt. Ivy liked a good challenge, and she mentally determined she’d figure this guy out.
“Should we go see this cabin you’ve built?” she asked, feeling flirtatious and ready to get off this boat.
“Sure,” he said. “Bring the suitcase you need the most, as we’ll have to go back and forth several times.” He got up and started loading things—boxes of food and cases of water and heaps of supplies—near the back of the boat.
Ivy was pretty much useless, but she could carry what he told her to. She did that, and then he untied the lifeboat and got in it. It rocked all over the place, and nerves struck Ivy right behind the lungs.
She handed what she could to Mason, and he loaded the boat to the point that she thought it would sink.
“All right,” he said. “Your turn.” He extended his hand toward her, and she put her fingers in his. That delightful tingle started cruising along her skin. It crawled up to her elbow, then her shoulders, and his fingers tightened on hers.
“You have to step down, sweetheart,” he said as if he were talking to a spooked animal. Ivy thought she fit that bill pretty well, actually.
“I won’t sink it?” she asked, her feet frozen to the deck.
“Nope. There’s room for you right here.” He indicated the bench he’d kept clear. “Come on now.”
Ivy got herself to move, and Mason’s hand gripped her with the power of a python. Next thing she knew, she stood in the boat, and he grinned at her like she’d just achieved something great.
He put those muscles to work, and they hit the sandy bottom only a few minutes later. He jumped out and pushed the boat the rest of the way out of the water, immediately unloading the boat.
Ivy moved a little slower, but she managed to get out of the boat without embarrassing herself. She picked up a box and followed Mason. Her shoes got tangled in the sand, and she kicked them off, marveling at the cabin in front of her.
It sat back off the beach, under the shade of some tall trees. Made of wood, the cabin wasn’t anything to write home about, other than the fact that it existed on this tiny piece of land in the middle of so much water.
“This is so great,” she told Mason after she’d walked inside. There were no rooms inside, but one big area with only a few pieces of furniture. Two cots. A long couch and a loveseat. Two straight-backed chairs, and a small, round table.
Mason put his boxes on the table, and said, “That one can go here too.” He took it from her and surveyed the cabin. “It’s not bad, right? I mean, it’ll keep us dry when it rains. Keep the sun off our skin when we’ve had too much. Block the wind.”
“It’s great,” she said, meeting his eyes. He wore some anxiety in his, and Ivy realized he’d worked hard on this cabin. He’d collected all of the supplies. Loaded the yacht. He’d done everything, and she’d shown up with four pieces of luggage.
“Thank you,” she said, a hint of foolishness moving through her in the next moment. She turned away from him and walked back outside, intending to get something else from the boat. They worked in silence after that, bending, lifting, moving. He rowed them back to the yacht four times, and it seemed to take forev
er to get everything from the yacht to the island and where he wanted it.
Ivy didn’t complain. She knew how to work hard, and she wanted him to know she could do anything he could.
Her back hurt, and she couldn’t help thinking of the long inventory days she’d put in at the boutique. After a long day like that, she’d take a hot bath and order her favorite sushi. But there was no hot water on the island, and probably plenty of sushi—if she could catch it with her bare hands.
When it seemed like the work was finished, she stood with the water lapping against her ankles, staring out into the expanse of the ocean. A powerful wave of missing hit her. She couldn’t believe she’d left the main island, left her family.
She talked to one of them every single day, and tomorrow…she wouldn’t.
“Hey.” Mason stepped to her side, and Ivy instinctively leaned into him. “You okay?”
“Just thinking about my family.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and it felt…nice.
“Do you miss your family?” she asked. “Hawaii is a long way from Texas.”
“Not as much as you do, I think,” he said, his voice barely louder than the wind and the waves as they sang nature’s song together. “I lived at Fox Hill alone for quite a few years.”
“Fox Hill. Is that the name of your ranch?”
“Yes,” he said.
“And that’s why you’re not a big talker.” She wasn’t asking, so he couldn’t get mad at her for asking too many questions.
“Am I not a big talker?” Mason asked, a false note of surprise in his voice.
Ivy laughed, the sound freeing and full. It chased away some of the lingering melancholy, and she tucked herself closer to Mason. “Not a big talker, no. But if you can whip us up some dinner, I’d be willing to forgive the silence.”
A low chuckle started in Mason’s chest, and Ivy liked the rumbling quality of it. So despite a rocky start, she thought she could stay on this island with this man—at least for one night.
Chapter Six
Stranded with the Cowboy Billionaire Page 3
