Dream On

by Stacey Keith

  If she hadn’t been so nervous, Cassidy might have laughed. And here she thought Lexie was the obvious one. She went to the foyer and took a deep breath. Lexie was talking a mile a minute. Cassidy paused to listen.

  “How tall are you?” Lexie asked someone.

  “Six three,” came Mason’s drawling response. “How tall are you?”

  “I’m tall,” she assured him. “Grandma says I’m for sure going to be taller than my mom.”

  “My mother said if I got any taller she would make me live at the zoo with the giraffes.”

  Lexie snorted, which was what she did when she laughed. “I want to live with giraffes.”

  “Sorry. No giraffes today. But Jasper’s kind of like a grizzly bear.”

  “I only go full-on grizzly when I’m hungry,” Jasper said.

  Someone made a fake coughing noise.

  “Oh, bite me, Hannigan,” Jasper told him.

  They were cute with Lexie, Cassidy thought. Smiling, she opened the door.

  Mason stood gazing down at her from his height, and maybe the sun came out or it was just the air going out of her lungs, but she felt a little dizzy. He wore a light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a fitted pair of jeans. There was an expensive-looking cheese sampler balanced on one hand, obviously meant for her mom, and a bottle of wine in the other. But the heat in his eyes when he looked at her electrified the space between them. Every word they’d never said, every kiss they’d never taken seemed to shimmer inside that space. Her whole body responded to it, something scorching and magnetic that lined up in the direction of him.

  Cassidy had a vague impression of stepping back and welcoming everyone inside the house, but she heard their voices inside an echo chamber. Only Mason seemed real. He loomed inside the doorway like a dream, his broad shoulders blocking out the light.

  In quick succession, Jasper, Temple, and Brian bent down to give her a hug before Lexie pulled them into the kitchen. Then it was just her and Mason alone. Cassidy had to tilt her head back to see him.

  His eyes were dangerously hot and hungry, searching hers without a trace of the self-consciousness she felt. She wanted to absorb every detail of him while she still could, before he went back to his life in Dallas, his football practices and press conferences and everything else she wasn’t a part of. But he was here now, right now, right in front of her. And the tension that swirled between them made the tiny hairs on her skin stand at attention.

  She’d never wanted so badly to touch the dark stubble that lined his strong jaw or run her hands over the biceps that strained the seams of his shirt. This must be what pure lust feels like, she thought, because I am dizzy with it. When she’d known Mason before, she was a child still. What she felt now was a woman’s desire, and it set her nerves on fire. Need blazed down her spine and wrapped itself like a fierce, burning embrace around her thighs, her belly, her breasts. She couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. His gaze wouldn’t let her.

  Then one corner of his mouth curled up. “Don’t I get a hug, too?” he asked in a voice gone husky.

  Sweet Jesus. Cassidy swallowed hard. Her palms felt damp and her heart kept up its annoying racket. “I can’t hug you. You have… stuff.”

  “Damn,” he said. “Here, let me get rid of it.”

  “There you are.” Lexie appeared in the doorway that led to the kitchen. “What are you doing? Everybody’s in here now.”

  Mason steepled an eyebrow at Cassidy as though to say, “Well, what can you do?” She gave him a dazed smile. How could she act normal in front of people when everything inside of her was in flames? There was no way she’d make it through dinner.

  They followed Lexie into the kitchen, but Cassidy had a tough time focusing. Mason’s presence was too big and too masculine for her to think about anything else. Having four huge men here made everything in the house seem smaller. They were all noise and charm and testosterone.

  Jasper wore her dad’s “Kiss the Cook” apron. Maggie was showing him how to sift flour for the biscuits. The guys teased him about it, laughing when he threatened to kill anyone who took a photo. Her mom oohed and aahed over the fancy cheese sampler and exclaimed over the wine. Then her dad came through the back door carrying two big buckets packed with ice and beers.

  Mason went to help, even though Doak was the last person on earth who needed it. Her dad may have been retired from the fire department, but he was as strong and healthy as ever, although her mom always got on him about watching his cholesterol. And now Mason stood joking with him in the kitchen, accompanied by the hiss of beers being opened and everyone talking. Dad looked so happy. Even April chatted easily with Temple and Brian, who were both leaning against the counter, sipping beers.

  Somehow, Cassidy realized, as though it were the most natural thing in the world, the Robys were hosting four members of the most successful football team in America. Right in their own kitchen.

  “Well, I think we’re ready,” her mom said. “If you boys want to take a seat, we can get started on the salad.”

  There was plenty of great food, Cassidy noted with pride. Corn on the cob, sprinkled with butter and pepper. Mac and cheese, a Roby family specialty, with a thick, slightly burnt layer of crust on top. There were collard greens and string beans dressed in lemon and oil. A bowl of Priscilla’s spicy Cajun-Texas rice. And Maggie had made her habanero cheese fritters, which Mason and his friends had been devouring since before dinner. Plus, the salad. Through the open door, Cassidy could see her dad lift the turkey out of the fryer, proud as a new father, and then lay it tenderly on a platter.

  They said grace, which always made her feel snug and comfortable, Mason’s deep voice blending with Lexie’s higher one. Her mom served herself some salad before passing the bowl to her right. “So, tell us how your parents are doing, Mason.”

  An expression, almost like a wince, flickered across his face. “Well, ma’am, they separated.”

  Cassidy set down her fork. How was it possible? Mr. and Mrs. Hannigan were what Grams always referred to as “lifers.” They’d owned the town grocery before selling it to Marcus Strom and moving to Dallas. Cassidy’s heart hurt for Mason. She wondered how hard his two sisters were taking the news.

  “Oh, that’s a terrible shame,” her mom replied. “But you’d be surprised how often these things just work themselves out.”

  “Mrs. Felps came into the bakery today.” Maggie spun a forkful of salad in the dressing on her plate. “She said that awful Bobby and Faye Evans are splitting up. Only three months married, too.”

  “Maggie, you know I don’t like gossip at the table.” Priscilla gave her a pointed stare that even Cassidy wilted under, although she hadn’t been the one gossiping.

  “Is that right, Priss?” her dad said. “Then I guess you won’t want to hear about Diane Gunderson’s facelift.”

  Cassidy almost choked. She, Maggie, and April exchanged glances. If there was one subject Priscilla Roby couldn’t resist, it was plastic surgery.

  While her mom pretended not to want to know anything about Diane Gunderson’s facelift, Cassidy looked across the table at Mason. His eyes held a glint in their depths. They seemed to ask if she were ready to finish what they’d started those many years ago. A feeling of sweaty, desperate desire moved through her. She tried to push it away. But the invisible current continued to sizzle between them, even here among family and friends. His gaze felt like a rough caress, one that teased and demanded and aroused. It pulled at her from the inside and left her quivering.

  During dinner, it felt as though a decision had been made. She knew Mason. In her bones, she knew him. And she knew what he was saying by being here.

  Everyone had already finished eating by the time Cassidy realized she’d been so busy thinking, half her food remained on the plate. Even Jasper had finished. He leaned back and fondly patted his stomach. “I’m one hundre
d percent sure that’s the finest home cookin’ I’ve ever had.”

  “There’s dessert,” Maggie told him. “Do you want to eat it now or wait a bit?”

  “I’m going to wait a bit.” Mason pushed away from the table. “It’s such a beautiful night. I’m hoping Cassidy will take a walk with me.”

  “I’ll go!” Lexie cried out, clearly ready to press her case until her grandma came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Lexie, honey, Grandma needs your help in the kitchen.”

  “But why can’t I—”

  The hand visibly tightened. Awareness dawned in Lexie’s eyes. “I’ll stay here,” she said quickly.

  Cassidy didn’t dare look, but she could tell everyone was grinning. She stood up, heart pounding, and he did, too. Only he didn’t seem annoyed and embarrassed. He didn’t try to laugh it off, either. Instead, he came around the table and offered his arm.

  It’s starting, she thought. It’s starting, and I’m not sure I’m brave enough to go through with it.

  “Better bring your jacket,” he said. “I hear a cold front is fixin’ to blow through.”

  Chapter Five

  When dusk fell over Cuervo, hushed and blue, with the supper smells of meatloaf and pot roast and mashed potatoes lingering in the air, Mason remembered his boyhood and the thousand nights just like this one. How unwilling they’d been, he and his friends, to put away their footballs and skateboards and bikes, to give up what was left of the day. All the magic of their bike ramp rules and front yard football scrimmages ended the minute they went inside and their parents told them to wash their hands and do their homework.

  Those nights were in his blood, just like they were in Cassidy’s, and for the first time in a long time Mason felt as though he were home. Not home in the sense of where his stuff was, but the way it felt to walk beside someone who knew these things as well as he did. Everything about this was right. Even her denim jacket reminded him of the one she wore in high school, the one that made her eyes so blue. Deep contentment swept over him. As they passed houses as familiar to him as they were to her, houses with windows that were yellow with light, he had to resist the urge to kiss Cassidy right there. He wanted to. Christ, how he wanted to. But Cassidy wasn’t a girl you rushed into things. And Mason liked to think he wasn’t your average mouth-breather who put his needs first. Relationships, like football, as Coach used to say, were a team sport.

  Cassidy glanced up at him. “I’m really sorry about your folks splitting up. Is it… do you think they’re split up for good?”

  “Wish I knew. Dad moved to Fort Worth and Mom stayed in Dallas.”

  A frown creased her forehead. “But why? They never seemed the type to go and do a thing like that.”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the pressure of dealing with a son who’s a quarterback. It gets to most folks eventually.”

  He could tell she didn’t know what he was talking about and that only added to his satisfaction. Cassidy hadn’t been spoiled by money and fame. She had no real understanding of what it was like to be hounded by photographers and sports agents, to receive hate mail from rival football fans. She lived in a Texas version of Mayberry, USA, and as far as Mason was concerned, had gotten the better deal.

  A part of him felt as though he should warn her, that there was no way he could have her and not eventually pull her into the shit-storm. But the evening was so beautiful, and there was time yet, surely, before she had to know the truth of what life was like for a “national hero.” Still, he owed her at least a partial explanation.

  “It’s tough. I won’t lie to you,” he said. “When your son is the quarterback of the Dallas Lone Stars, everybody wants to be your friend. They pretend to care about you, but it’s usually just a smokescreen. What they really want is access. After a while, you don’t know who your real friends are anymore.”

  Cassidy slowed her pace, clearly trying to piece this together. He let his gait match hers, aware that the urge to kiss her had reasserted itself, stronger this time, less patient than he needed it to be. His eyes followed the swirl of blonde hair that lay on the shoulder of her jacket. They rested on her bitable lower lip and then flicked restlessly over the tiny gold cross that hung above her breasts. He wondered if she wore that cross to proclaim her faith or as protection against the men who wanted her. Men like him, for instance.

  “I can’t stop thinking about your mom and dad,” she said. “Your sisters, too, right? All those people grabbing at them. It can’t be easy.”

  “Before you start feeling sorry for us, there’s an upside, too.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, you get things,” he said lightly. “A lot of things. For free.”

  “Things?”

  “Big screen TVs. I’ve got plenty. Does Lexie have a big screen? I’d be happy to—”

  “No way. I’m not adding that to the long list of things we argue about. She’s already mad because I won’t let her have a smartphone.”

  “Next thing you know, you’ll be telling her she can’t have whiskey and cigarettes.”

  “Right? Besides, I don’t even have a smartphone. Or a regular cellphone, for that matter. It’s too much money.”

  Mason tried to hide his surprise. Cassidy must be the only woman he knew who didn’t have a phone surgically attached to her hand. She may have been the only woman he knew who didn’t have a cell phone, period. Three months ago, he’d gone on a date with a gorgeous Danish model who spent more time glancing at her smartphone than she did talking to him. When he asked her if she was expecting a call, all she did was giggle.

  He looked up at the water tower that had the word Cuervo on it and smiled. “Lexie’s a sweet kid, Cass. You’ve done a hell of a job with her.”

  When she went quiet, it felt as though he’d lost three yards on the play. Not time to throw the ball just yet, but he’d figured she would be eager to talk about a daughter who she clearly loved.

  So he pretended to give her space, look away. The sky was full of wings now, starlings that peeled off the long arc of a telephone wire. They seemed to shimmer against the deepening blue, swooping and dipping.

  “She’s dyslexic,” Cassidy said finally. “It’s a learning disability that makes it hard for her to read.”

  “Jasper’s dyslexic. Talks about it all the time, how everyone had to do his homework for him just so he could graduate high school.”

  She reached out and tore off a piece of bush that Mason couldn’t remember the name of but smelled really good. “I try to help Lexie as much as I can, but what she really needs is a school that teaches kids like her. Kids with learning disabilities.”

  “You’re never going to find one of those in Cuervo,” he said.

  She went quiet again, which made him kick himself.

  “So… Parker’s not around much, is he?”

  She shrugged. “Parker sends birthday and Christmas presents. But he hasn’t seen Lexie in over three years.”

  Mason wanted to say what a douche Parker was, but didn’t. Parker was, after all, Lexie’s father. And Cassidy had clearly liked the asshole enough to sleep with him, a fact which found its way underneath Mason’s ribcage like a prison shank. And stuck there.

  But in all fairness—and Mason did try to be fair—maybe he just hated the guy because he’d gotten to see her naked first.

  “Want to grab a beer at the Double Aces?” he asked, knowing they weren’t too far off and getting there was a good way to avoid saying how he really felt about Parker Nolen, which was that he was a dick.

  “A beer at the Double Aces,” she murmured. “That should get everybody talking.”

  “We don’t have to, if it’s too much to deal with. I just thought—”

  “Sure.” She smiled up at him, all white teeth and blue eyes and that cute little nose, which made his heart
fall over backwards. “It’s a Friday night, right? Shouldn’t I be able to have a beer without the gossip brigade losing its tiny mind?”

  “You’re a radical, Cassidy Roby.”

  “That’s what I keep telling myself.”

  * * * *

  Cassidy knew she’d made a mistake the second Mason opened the door to the Double Aces. She froze, and he stopped short behind her, maybe even as shocked as she was.

  Or maybe not.

  Behind them came the high-pitched, excited voices of young women crowding into the bar, which made it impossible for Cassidy to stall any longer. She was practically pushed inside, flushed to the roots of her hair, because everyone, everyone, whipped their heads around to look at her and Mason.

  For the first time ever, the Double Aces was standing room only. Dougie McClaskey, the owner, frantically filled drink orders at the back bar and every inch between him and the door was filled with gorgeous, half-naked women and a few dozen men looking goofy and drunk. The minute Mason set foot inside, the cheering and clapping and woot-wooting created a wall of sound that felt as though it would push her outside again.

  Over her shoulder, Mason muttered, “Oh, shit.”

  Cassidy stood with her mouth open. She was drowning in a sea of eyes. Half these girls she’d never seen before. She couldn’t believe how many people were here. There was nowhere for her to hide.

  She felt Mason’s hand on her elbow, guiding her. Jessica Coleman, her former classmate who waited tables at the Double Aces, flagged her over. Cassidy watched her hoist a two-top, plant it in a corner of the room, and then clean it with a brisk professionalism that any server would appreciate. She let herself be herded through the crowd, but it was impossible to ignore all those tanned, bare shoulders and painted smiles and pushed-up boobs. “Dressed for bear,” her dad would have said. Compared to these women, Cassidy felt about as exciting as a glass of water. They probably wondered why Mason was even hanging out with her.