Mason nodded. “So the idea of you working for a guy like me, someone who owns a bar, would be bad enough, but when it meant you had to be in my house, that really toasted his biscuits, didn’t it?”
I couldn’t help laughing. “Toasted his biscuits? Yeah, I’d say. He was giving me the silent treatment, at least until this morning.” Had it really only been this morning? It felt more like years ago. “He and Gram had been sitting up waiting for me all night. When I walked in the door—well, let’s just say the silent treatment was over. He didn’t hold back.”
A tic twitched in Mason’s cheek, and his jaw was clenched. I stood up, deciding we’d had enough of sharing time. No way did I want to get into the exact words my father had used. “Mason, are you sure you’re comfortable with me moving in? I could live out with Sam and Meghan. They offered. And I could still come in and take care of your mom. Watch Piper.”
He raised one eyebrow. “How’re you going to get into town from the farm every day? Walk? I’m assuming your father didn’t gift you a vehicle when he tossed your ass to the curb.” Mason saw me wince and muttered something else under his breath. “Sorry. I’m just pissed.” He held up one hand. “I know. You don’t like the swearing. I’ll try to keep it to a minimum, but if you’re going to be living here, you’re going to have to accept that I’m not a saint.”
I giggled. “Mason, with all due respect and appreciation, I don’t have any illusions about your sainthood.”
He grinned. “Good. So to answer your other question, yes, I’m sure about you moving in. Honestly, I’ve wanted live-in help since Mom got sick. Mrs. Murphy lived so close, it didn’t really make a difference, but knowing that I can run to The Road Block whenever they need me and not have to worry about everyone at home is going to be huge. I’m telling you, you’re doing us as much of a favor as I’m doing you.”
“Okay. Then can I use the guest room?” I leaned back, resting my hip against the countertop.
Mason cocked his head. “The guest room? But I thought the sofa was so comfortable.” He winked at me.
“Very funny.” I rolled my eyes. “It was plenty comfortable, thank you. But if I’m going to be here a long-term basis, I’d like a bed. And a door.” I paused, gnawing on the side of my lip. “I realized something this morning while my dad was ranting. I stayed downstairs on your couch last night because I thought I was going to make my father happy. Or happier, at least, knowing I made the decision he’d want me to make, not sleeping on the same level of the house as a man who wasn’t related to me. But it didn’t matter, did it? He still thought the worst of me. So I may as well do whatever I want, right?”
Mason rubbed his chin. “As the father of a daughter, that statement sends chills down my spine. Rilla, I get that you’re hurt and you’re angry. But don’t let what your father said or how he treated you change who you are. I respect your values. He might’ve been wrong about a lot, but I’m thinking he can’t be all bad, since he raised a pretty cool daughter.” He stood up and stretched, raising his arms so that his shirt rode up a few inches, revealing the taut skin on his stomach. Something new and unfamiliar tickled low in my belly.
“I’m going to check on Piper and then maybe grab a little nap myself. It was a long night and a longer morning, huh? You might want to do the same. Make yourself at home.” He made it to the doorway of the kitchen before glancing back over his shoulder at me. “Because you are. At home, I mean. For as long as you want it to be.”
Sam and Meghan arrived around six with my two bags and a picnic basket full of dinner that included fried chicken, potato salad, biscuits, coleslaw and green beans. When Meghan pulled out an apple pie, I wanted to cry. Bless her heart, she’d brought paper plates and plastic forks, so all I had to do was toss a tablecloth over the kitchen table. We sat down, passed the food, chatted, laughed and ate. It was just what we all needed after a stressful day.
After they left, Mason carried my bags upstairs, and I settled into the guest room. Piper was overjoyed by the idea that I’d be right down the hall from her all the time now; she tried to talk me into sharing her room, but when her father and I convinced her that wasn’t going to happen, she amused herself by helping me unpack and put my clothes into the dresser drawers.
Mason came to the doorway, leaning against the jam and watching us. As I shook out a denim skirt and clipped it to a hanger, I caught the expression on his face.
“What?” I hung the skirt in the empty closet. “Why’re you looking at me like that? It’s okay that I use the dresser and the closet, right?”
“Of course it is.” He hesitated. “What you told me this afternoon, about your dad and how he wanted to protect you—is that why you dress like you do? I’ve never seen you in anything but long skirts and shirts that don’t fit you. Oh, and your funeral dress.” He smirked.
“That was my professional outfit, buddy. Don’t make fun.” I pretended to be offended.
“Sorry.” He held up both hands as though he were scared of me. “Your professional funeral outfit.”
“Whatever.” I shook my head. Piper handed me another shirt from deep inside my bag, and I kissed her silky head as I accepted it from her. When I looked back up at Mason, his eyes were clouded, and a crease appeared between his eyes.
“But yeah, you’re right.” I folded the top and put it away. “My father is ... was very specific about what I was and was not allowed to wear. No jeans, no shorts, nothing tight or the least bit revealing. I can’t show my shoulders or my knees.”
“Huh.” Mason straightened and slid the first two fingers of each hand into the front pockets of his jeans. “Did everyone at your church feel the same way?”
“Oh, no. Most people dressed like the rest of the world. But I was better than the rest of the world.” There was more irony than bitterness in my tone. I dropped onto the end of the bed. “I guess there’s nothing stopping me now from changing that, right?”
Mason lifted one shoulder. “That’s up to you. If you’re comfortable as you are, I don’t think you need to be different unless you want to. You’re in charge of you now, Rilla. No one else.”
I studied him, thinking. “I think ... I think I’d like to wear jeans sometimes.” I reached down to pull a wriggling Piper into my lap. “But I don’t want to go crazy. I mean, I saw some of the things people wore when I worked at the stand. Those really short shorts, where you could see the girls,’ um—well, a lot more of them was out there for the world to see than what I’d ever be comfortable with.”
“Got it. No Daisy Dukes.”
“Is that what those’re called? Hmm. Okay, no Daisy Dukes.”
“Maybe Meghan could take you shopping. She’d probably love that.” Mason came further into my room and snagged Piper from my arms. “Okay, princess. Time for bed. Let’s give Rilla a few minutes to herself.” He held his daughter upside down, her head dangling two feet from the floor as she squealed with delight. “You need anything, Rilla? Towels are the bathroom closet. Help yourself to anything else. Oh, and since tomorrow’s Monday, I don’t go in to the club until close to noon. So sleep in as late as you want. I’ll be on rugrat patrol.” He shot me a warm smile that lit up his eyes. “Good night.”
“Good night,” I echoed, not moving as the sound of Piper’s laughter faded down the hallway. I hugged my arms around my ribs, looking around the unfamiliar room and trying to ignore the heady and equally foreign tingle that Mason’s smile ignited in me.
I might’ve been innocent and more than a little naïve, but I wasn’t stupid. Mason had come to my rescue at a time when I desperately needed someone, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if I developed a big old crush on him. He was easily the best-looking guy I’d ever seen in my life, with those green-brown eyes, easy smile and his body ... well, I’d been raised not to think this way, but when Mason had held me against him earlier today, I’d felt sparks in parts of my own body that I wasn’t even supposed to think about.
But I had to remember who he was.
Who I was. He was the kind of guy who could get any girl he wanted, and I had a feeling he’d had plenty. He was a bar-owner with enough charisma to charm the pants off any female, he’d been a big shot in Nashville—and he had a daughter. I was just the small-town girl who’d never been anywhere or known anyone outside my own tiny circle. My job was to keep his daughter safe and make his mother comfortable so that Mason didn’t have to worry about them.
Between the two of us, there could only be friendship and respect. There wasn’t room for anything else, and I was determined not to let any silly girlish idolizing get in the way of doing my work and moving forward. With a little luck, by the time Naomi had recovered enough to take over Piper’s care again, I would’ve saved enough money to get my own place and be completely independent. I could live the life I wanted, on my own terms, with nobody telling me I was wrong. Or sinful. Or disobedient.
So as I slid between the cool sheets of the guest room bed that night—correction: it was my bed now, for as long as I lived here—I pushed aside thoughts of the man who was sleeping down the hall, thoughts of his eyes, his smile and his laugh. And I definitely didn’t think about the way he made me feel when he teased, or when he said my name, or how my skin buzzed with energy whenever he touched me in even the slightest way. I convinced myself that I wasn’t interested in the feel of his hard body against mine, the comfort of his arms wrapped around me or the scent of him when he was close and I breathed him in.
Nope. I was going to be smart and strong. And if I melted a little now and then when Mason winked at me, it didn’t mean a thing. I could handle it. I was a big girl, an adult, not a giggling teen.
And if my dreams that night were more intense and sensual than any I’d ever had ... and if they all centered around a certain man ... well, I couldn’t help that. I wasn’t responsible for my subconscious.
WITHIN A FEW WEEKS of Rilla moving in with us, I couldn’t imagine how we’d ever survived without her.
It was heaven for me to wake up each morning without worrying about how I was going to juggle my daughter, my mother and my business that day. Rilla made it all look easy, cooking meals, keeping the house neat and the laundry washed and folded, even as she amused Piper and made sure Mom had her meds and was kept comfortable.
Everything at The Road Block improved, too. I wasn’t working longer hours, but because I wasn’t distracted, worrying about what was happening at home, I was more efficient. We’d put Rilla’s ideas for promoting our new lunch hours into effect, and volume was picking up, slowly but steadily.
“It’s amazing how much difference one person can make in your life.” I leaned my hip against the counter opposite the bar and popped open two beers, handing one to Rocky and taking a swig of my own. “I’m telling you, dude. I feel like a whole new man. Rilla keeps the house humming like a well-oiled machine.”
“It’s a beautiful thing, boss.” Rocky tipped his bottle to me. “My wife’s happier, too, since I’m not getting called in all the time to cover for you. Not that it was ever a problem,” he hastened to add. “You know I love my job. I’m happy to help whenever you need me.”
“Nah, it’s all good. I’m glad your wife’s happy, too. Happy wife, happy life, right?”
“You got it, man. And speaking of that, you ever think about ... you know ... having a happy life with Rilla? Damned good-looking woman. If I were you, I’d grab that before anyone else starts sniffin’ around.”
Unexpected and sudden irritation rose in my chest. “Shut the hell up, Rocky. It’s not like that, and you know it. Rilla works for me. She’s—she’s a friend. Nothing else is going on.” I finished my beer and tossed it into the recycle barrel with a little more force than necessary, and I heard it break against the other glass. “Besides, you know she’s, like, seven years younger than me.”
“Uh huh.” Rocky nodded. “Say, isn’t she actually a little older than Meghan, the girl Sam Reynolds is marrying? And aren’t you and Sam the same age?”
“Drop it.” I pointed at him. “Last thing I need is rumors starting up about Rilla. She’s been through enough.” I ran my hand over my buzzed hair. “And Rilla and Meghan might be close to the same age, but Meghan wasn’t raised by an overprotective dad out on a farm. She’s a lot more street-savvy than Rilla.”
“True.” Rocky finished his beer and slid the bottle to me. “She still hasn’t heard anything from her family since she moved in with you?”
“Not a word. Rilla says it doesn’t bother her, but I think it hurts that her grandmother hasn’t even called. They were close.” I picked up Rocky’s bottle and stared at it a moment. “I wish I knew something about her mother’s family. Rilla says her father wouldn’t talk about them or let her grandmother tell Rilla anything about where her mom came from.”
“Have you asked around? Small town like Burton, people are bound to remember who she was.”
I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to interfere more than I have, and I don’t want people talking about her, either. My mother can’t remember—she didn’t know the families, I guess.”
“Well, good luck, boss. If it’s okay with you, I’m heading out.” Rocky slid off the barstool. “See you tomorrow.”
“Sounds good, Rocky. Thanks.” I glanced around the dining area, making a mental note of how many tables were still active and how many needed to be bussed. We were in the slow period between the end of lunch hours and before things got busy on the bar side of the club, and only a few people lingered over late lunches.
I came out from behind the bar to make my final swing through, thanking the last diners for coming in and asking them to tell their friends. Rilla had had small cards made up that offered free dessert for returning customers and a discount for first-time lunchers. I handed out a few of each as I stopped at the tables.
A woman with light brown hair sat with her husband at the last booth. When I’d finished my spiel, she sat back, looking up at me with narrowed eyes. “You’re Mason Wallace, the owner here, right?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am. I hope everything was all right today.”
“Oh, the food was delicious, and the service was exemplary.” She paused. “I’ve heard about you. We go to church out at Burton Community.”
For a minute, I was lost, and then light dawned. “Ah. I see.”
“I’ve known Rilla Grant since she was a tiny thing. I heard she’s living with you now. Left her father’s house and moved in with you.”
Shit. “Well, that’s not exactly right, ma’am. Rilla works for me. I have a young daughter, and my mother has leukemia. I’m a widower, and I hired Rilla to help with my little girl and my mom. That’s all.” I felt compelled to add, “There’s nothing wrong going on between us. And Rilla didn’t leave the farm. She was thrown out.”
If I’d expected shock from the woman over this revelation, I was disappointed. She only nodded. “Doesn’t surprise me. Emmett Grant’s a hard man, and I never did agree with the way he brought up Rilla. She was too good to play with my daughters when they were all young, because I let my girls wear jeans and watch television. Rilla had to sit still, wear dresses and keep quiet. That’s no way to raise a child.”
“I think I’d have to agree with you.” I smiled. “I can’t imagine telling my little girl that she couldn’t play.”
“It’s a shame. There’re people who take good teachings and twist them around to be something the good Lord never intended. My mother always said faith without fun wasn’t going anywhere, because who wanted to take on a lifestyle filled with hateful people?” Across the booth, her husband laughed, and she smiled. “Anyway. I just wanted you to know that not everyone at the church is against Rilla. There’s a lot of talk, I’m not going to lie. People who have too much time to spread gossip, which they justify by calling it prayer requests, and they’re saying some ugly things. But not all of us listen. You tell Rilla, Carol Hampton said hey, and we miss her.”
“I’ll be sure to pass that on, ma’am. Thank you.” I ga
ve her a little head bow as I made my way back to the bar. It made me ill to think of people talking about Rilla, assuming what we were doing was sordid and wrong. I wanted to defend her, tell them the truth, but at the same time, I knew once a rumor was out there, it could be near impossible to make it go away.
“You hanging tonight, Mason, or you heading home?” Darcy came out of the back, tying on her apron. Her shift had just begun.
“I was going to stay, but you know, if you think you’ve got it handled, I might go home.” I had a sudden urge to go home and make sure Rilla was all right.
“Sure thing. It’s a Monday night. It’s gonna be slow. You might as well have a night off.” She jerked her head in the direction of the bar. “We’ve got plenty of staff on to serve, so I’ll cover drinks.”
“I appreciate it, Darcy.”
“I know you do.” She shot me a saucy grin. “How’s your mom doing? Any word on when she goes in for the transplant?”
“Yeah, it’s this week, actually. I’ll take her in to the hospital early Wednesday, and then they start the chemo blast to kill off her immune system. If all goes according to their plan, she’ll be ready for the new stem cells in about two weeks.”
“I can’t believe you were a match for her. That was a lucky break.”
“Sure was.” My mom’s siblings and cousins had all been tested, as I had been. We were relieved when I was a match, since it was easier for me to donate, living here in Georgia. “Rilla says it wasn’t luck, it was answered prayer.”
Darcy smiled. “And she may be onto something. Whatever, I’m glad it happened that way.” She hesitated. “Mason, everything going okay with Rilla living at your house? Is she adjusting all right?”
I frowned. “As far as I know. Why?”
She shrugged. “Just asking. You know I don’t listen to gossip. But I hear things, and there’s talk about Rilla living with you. People saying she’s taking care of more than your mom and the kid. It pisses me off, because anyone who’d actually met Rilla could tell she’s not that way. But I just thought you ought to know.”
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