by Bonnie Dee
Mason took his hand away and looked up at the young mother. “Cute kid.”
She frowned and looked at her son as if wondering if Mason was joking. Zander’s eyes were still pink and his nose still runny. It would take a bit for the symptoms to subside. Hopefully just long enough for her to be convinced Mason’s touch had nothing to do with the boy’s recovery.
Still frowning, the girl returned to her seat and leaned to tend to the baby, who was starting to fuss. Zander trailed after and resumed running his trucking routes.
Mason cast a look around the mostly empty Laundromat. An old woman with a walker and a middle-aged man wearing a John Deere cap were the only other customers. The man Mason recognized from the diner. The woman he’d never seen before. Both quickly dropped their gazes, pretending they hadn’t been watching the interaction. But they would remember what they saw, and if the redheaded chick decided Mason had cured her kid, very likely rumors about him would continue to spread.
He put his head down, dropping his gaze to a photo spread of a grinning hunter standing over a ten-point buck. Bagged, tagged, and ready to be mounted.
Mason rubbed at the slight headache behind his temples and closed his eyes. Maybe he’d just take a little nap until the wash cycle was through.
Chapter Fourteen
As Ava moved around the kitchen packing a lunch, Bryan sat at the table preparing a package for mailing. She glanced at him, struggling a little to get the tape from the dispenser onto the paper. His movements weren’t as easy or sure as they used to be, she realized. Was this another permanent decrease in his abilities or just a bad day? It was hard to tell.
“What you selling?” she asked as she put a peanut butter sandwich in the sack.
“Galacticon,” Bryan answered as if she knew what that meant, then clarified, “It’s a Space Warrior. Almost mint condition minus the packaging, so I’m making a good profit.”
“My little entrepreneur.” Ava folded the top of the bag and set it on the kitchen table, then sat across from Bryan. “Are you sure you’re setting fair prices?”
He shrugged. “A, I’m not your ‘little’ anything, and B, whatever the market will bear. Collectors are nuts, man.”
She sipped her cooling coffee. “How much?”
“Fifty bucks, plus shipping.”
“Wow.” She shook her head, trying to imagine spending that kind of money on some old toy. In her world, fifty bucks went toward paying the electric or gas bill. “Seriously, Bry, I’m proud of you for dreaming up your own business, and if you need me to drive you to more estate or garage sales, let me know.”
He began to print the shipping label. “Next weekend we could go picking, if you’ve got time.”
“I’ll find time.” Ava smiled and her brother glanced up and smiled back, making her day.
That feeling of happiness lasted while she hustled Bryan out the door to catch the school bus, but as she watched him make his painstaking way onto the bus, her simple joy began to shred. How much longer before he needed a wheelchair? A year? Two years? Less? And once he was permanently seated, how long before the disease struck more vital functions in his body? How long before her clever, imaginative, exasperating, and loveable brother shut down permanently?
Usually she didn’t allow herself to think that way. One step at a time and don’t look at the long-term picture was how she’d been able to deal with Bryan’s disease. But now… Once more she mentally replayed the video of Mason making a little girl get up and walk. Could he help Bryan if she just asked? She pushed the thought out of her mind and went to get ready for work.
As she trod the familiar path to the diner, excitement began to build. She hadn’t seen Mason since the night he’d come over, nor had they called each other. Hard to stay in touch when the guy didn’t have a phone. But it would have been nice to hear from him. Had he missed her over the past couple of days, and was he as eager to see her as she was to see him?
Ava had scarcely walked in the back door before Frannie jumped her.
“Girl, we have got to talk.” Frannie’s curls bounced in indignation as she grasped Ava by the arm and dragged her back outside. She faced Ava, her thin-plucked eyebrows drawing together. “Why’ve you been ignoring my texts? Don’t lie. I know you have. It’s because you don’t want to tell me about you and Mason. Have you heard what people are saying about him? Crazy stuff. But people don’t just make shit up from nothing. There must be a kernel of truth in it. So what’s the real scoop on him?”
Ava caught her breath as if she’d been the one ranting. “Slow down. I haven’t been ignoring you. I plugged my phone in to recharge, and then I sort of forgot about it.” Lie. “What gossip about Mason? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Frannie folded her arms underneath her breasts and lowered her voice as if someone might be listening in from behind a bush. “People say he’s some sort of healer. Supposedly he touched Carl Butcher’s back and fixed a pinched nerve or something. And now Darla Baker—used to be Carmody but she married that Baker kid who took off a while back, leaving her with his rugrats.”
Ava nodded. She knew the sad story; poor not too bright Darla, knocked up at fifteen and an abandoned mother of two by age nineteen.
Frannie continued. “Anyway, Darla claims Mason healed her kid of pneumonia. It sounded like a load of crap, but then I remembered how Nash’s shirt was burned, but he didn’t have a mark on him. You saw it. What do you think?”
“I don’t…”
“You’ve spent time with this guy. Have you noticed anything weird about him?”
And this is why I avoided looking at Frannie’s texts. “No. I haven’t. He’s a nice guy. I like him.”
Frannie’s eyes popped wide. “You like him like him. Oh my God, look at your eyes. You do! Didn’t I warn you about diving in too deep? He was supposed to be just a fling. And now with all this gossip swirling around… You’ve got to take a step back and get some perspective, Ava. This isn’t somebody you can fall in love with.”
Where to begin with that statement? “I’m not in love, but even if I were, it’s not your business. As for those rumors, I’m sure they’re just that—rumors,” Ava said curtly. “Now we’d better get back to work.”
She hurried past Frannie before her friend could start up again, but Ava didn’t imagine this would be the end of it. Her friend would have more to say, and it sounded as if everybody for miles around would too. No secrets for long in this tiny community. What did this mean for Mason? Random people like Darla begging him for help was exactly the attention he’d wanted to avoid. Would it drive him away?
A braid of disappointment, sadness, and loss twined inside her. It was too soon for him to go. She wanted just a little more time together. Time to get closer and learn more about this complicated man. Time for more touching and kissing and, yeah, sex.
But she realized that was a lie. A little more time wouldn’t be enough. She wanted Mason to stay at least through the winter. And if she was being honest, even that wouldn’t be long enough. The more involved they got, the harder it would be to have him walk away.
Yet the inner voice warning caution was completely silenced the moment she spotted Mason working in the kitchen, a bandanna tied around his head to keep the sweat from his eyes. He looked hot and tired and utterly sexy in a sleeveless white undershirt and worn jeans. The sight of his arm muscles flexing as he lifted a heavy tray of dishes was enough to start a steady beat between her legs.
Pitiful. But she couldn’t look away. And when Mason glanced up, saw her, and smiled, she felt as if she’d been touched by a wand in some Disney fairy tale—sparkles of light and color going off inside her.
She smiled back. “Hey, how’s it going?”
He nodded toward the dishwasher. “Same old.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. As comfortable as she was working at the diner, the routine could be mind-numbing. Would she really be the next Stella Rae, fifty-something and still slinging hash? What abou
t Mason? Did he have any plan for his future besides wandering and working at menial jobs? They were both still young and sort of directionless. Even if Mason stuck around, they might eventually head down different paths.
“How’s your mom—and Bryan?” he asked.
“Okay. Thanks for helping with her the other night.”
Mason seemed to understand she didn’t want to talk about it. He set down the tray of dishes, glanced at Nash, whose back was turned, and pulled Ava close with those sinewy arms. His kiss was as hot and steamy as the dishwasher. By the time she moved away, her whole body throbbed along with her pussy and her legs were weak.
“Mm. Good kisser,” she whispered.
Mason grinned and started to pull her to him again.
“Little help here,” Frannie loudly interrupted. She stood looking into the kitchen through the ordering window. When Ava met her gaze, she added, “Can you cover the counter and a couple of the tables?”
“Sure.” Ava stepped away from Mason, but promised him later with her eyes.
*
After finishing her shift, Ava drove toward the Grove, where Mason had invited her to meet him. He’d knocked off work several hours earlier.
She was glad she’d driven today, since she’d have second-guessed her decision to go if she’d had to walk all the way there. The cheap motel brought up thoughts of illicit affairs that made meeting there seem sort of dirty or wrong. It didn’t help that when she got out of her car she was immediately assaulted by blaring music and shouting coming from one of the units. She chided herself for being such a snob. Mason couldn’t help having to live here. If she was going to spend time with him, she had to accept everything about him, from his broke living conditions to his paranormal powers.
The door to his unit flew open before she could knock on it. Mason stood in the frame, damp haired, shower fresh, and smiling. Immediately, her brain tuned out the shouting neighbors, and the cinder block motel seemed a sweet haven for lovers.
“Hi.” He took her hand and pulled her inside.
Her glance around the room took in bullfighter paintings on the wall, hideous orange-and-red flowered drapes, industrial brown carpet on the cement slab floor, and a shiny polyester bedspread—also orange. But she forgot about the fugly décor as Mason gave her a long, deep kiss. He tasted of mint toothpaste and smelled citrus tangy from his shampoo or soap.
Ava slid her hand up to his warm neck under soft, cool strands of hair. The feel of his solid flesh under her palms, the life coursing through him, thrilled her. As she leaned into him, the frame of her bones melted. How simple it was when she thought with her body instead of her mind. This felt exactly right. No questions or doubts troubled her.
She plunged into a sea of kisses and swam there for several moments before pulling away with a gasp. “Mind if I rinse off in your shower? You’re so clean, and I’m all dirty from work.”
Mason’s brows lifted. “Dirty, eh? I like that.” He squeezed her ass with both hands and ground his pelvis against hers. “How dirty? Show me.”
Ava laughed. “Not good dirty. Fry greasy. Give me just a minute.”
“There are some clean towels in there, but they’re as thin and rough as sandpaper,” Mason warned as she headed toward the tiny bathroom.
Some of the aqua ceramic tiles in the shower were missing, and there was an iron-stain around the drain, but the place was clean enough and the water pressure was better than at home. Picturing Mason in here, naked, only a little while earlier, coupled with the hard spray of water, made her body tingle. Every swipe of the washcloth scraped her skin and aroused her more—or maybe it was knowing Mason waited for her in the other room and they’d soon be doing amazing things under that ugly orange bedspread.
After toweling dry, Ava finger combed her blonde hair and regarded her image in the steamy mirror. Should she emerge from the bathroom wrapped in a towel or completely naked? Maybe she should put her clothes back on and let Mason remove them. Was this more a date or a sexual tryst?
She decided to go with the towel and was rewarded by the eager look in Mason’s eyes when she returned to him. He rose from the single chair near the window and walked toward her, gaze riveted on her cleavage above the towel.
“Like the look, kind of a micromini toga.” His gaze dropped to the towel’s edge at the very top of her thighs. He traced his finger along the hem, leaving a little trail of fire on her bare legs.
Her sex clenched hard and released wetly. Oh, she wanted him. She wanted him badly and now! Ava pulled his T-shirt up, and Mason lifted his arms so she could take it off. She stroked her hands over his body; shoulders, arms, hard chest, and flat stomach, which rippled under her palms. The front of his jeans outlined his growing interest, and the soft catch of his breath signaled his pleasure. Ava moved closer, reaching around to his back and rubbing that sleek skin too.
Mason groaned as she dug harder into his back muscles. “Mm, you can keep right on doing that.”
“I will. Stretch out on the bed,” she ordered, glad to transition slowly from making out to making love. Besides, a massage was a small service to repay his help with her mom the other night. It seemed Mason had done a lot of giving in his life, and he deserved some receiving for a change.
He lay facedown, and she straddled his body, riding his taut ass as she began to knead. His neck and shoulders were stiff beneath her hands, and she plied them until she’d released some of the tension and Mason exhaled a contented sigh.
As she worked down either side of his spine and along his lower back, she studied his profile against the pillow. With eyes closed, his lush lashes made dark spikes against pale skin. Just those pretty lashes alone turned her on. His face was all angles, with sharp cheekbones, a high-bridged nose, cut jawline, and thrusting chin. Lines marked the corners of his eyes and bracketed his mouth. Combined with the dash of white in his hair, he appeared older than the midtwenties he claimed. She remembered what he’d said about his ability draining him. Was there an inner clock ticking down every time he exerted a burst of power?
Ava smoothed back Mason’s hair and rubbed his scalp. Compassion swelled in her as she fully realized what a great burden his gift was. Yet it was his nature to heal. He couldn’t hold back from helping Nash or Nash’s friend with the back problem or a sick child. As her empathy increased, the energy she sometimes experienced around Mason sparked to life too. Not just a feeling, but an actual physical energy mounted and sizzled and flowed through her hands.
Mason’s eyes opened. “What…?”
“What?” she echoed, startled at his reaction. He’d felt it too, whatever “it” was.
He turned beneath her to lie on his back, hands resting on her hips, gaze intent on her face. “That felt”—he paused—“really good. Ever think of going into massage therapy?”
“Actually, after high school I took a couple of community college classes. Thought I might eventually become a physical therapist or EMT or something else in the medical field.” Ava shrugged. “But time and money weren’t on my side.”
He frowned. “You had your brother and your mom to take care of.”
Ava shrugged. “Bryan has a lot of incidental costs that aren’t covered by insurance, and I’m gone enough evenings a week as it is. He needs me to be home with him.”
Mason stroked his palms from her hips up her rib cage and back down again, slowly, contemplatively. Ava guessed he was thinking of Bryan’s disease. She hadn’t meant to bring up the topic or make Mason feel guilty for not offering to help him. Maybe he couldn’t do it even if he wanted to.
She leaned to kiss him, their lips brushing lightly together. Her breasts pushed against the cheap terrycloth towel, attempting to burst free, and her crotch rubbed the hardness in Mason’s jeans until her pussy ached. No more thinking about Bryan or healing or anything except what they were doing right here, right now.
She seized a small breath and kissed him again, her tongue twisting around his and her hands braced agains
t the pillow on either side of his head. His warm fingers and cool air brushed her bare flesh. He’d peeled away the towel, leaving her nude.
Every cell in her body jumped to attention, sizzling at the contact with his chest and stomach and thick denim—all of his body pressed against all of hers from face to feet. Ava rocking slowly on him while tension tightened between her legs.
Mason slid his hands down her back to knead her ass lightly, pulling her even closer.
“The pants have to go,” she muttered.
“I agree.” He pushed her off him long enough to unfasten his fly and wriggle free of his jeans. He balled them up and threw them wildly, then grabbed her and roughly pulled her back onto him. Hands tangling in her hair, he pressed his mouth bruisingly to hers as if desperate for her taste.
Ava whimpered and snaked her tongue into his mouth. Talking and thinking were so overrated. The pure and simple physical touch of flesh to flesh was what she needed.
Mason flipped them so he was on top. He rubbed his erection over her clit with gentle thrusts, taking it easy and slow. Like a magic wand, his cock conjured a deep swell of desire from inside her. It grew and intensified, and Ava moaned as she rose into him.
“Not yet,” Mason whispered, slowing to a stop and simply resting with his thickness pressed against her. “Want to take some time.” But he gritted the words as if it was as hard for him to hold back as it was for her.
Ava slowed her breathing and her rolling hips. She opened her eyes and studied his face. His eyes were so near, the contraction of dark brown irises around dilated pupils and her reflection there were visible. His breath tickled her mouth, and his hands cradled her head, bracketing her face like a picture frame.
