by Jennie Marts
But she knew it would. Knew it had to. Knew the real world would come crashing back in, and the pretend world they’d created this afternoon would fall apart.
Mason brushed a loose lock of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “You want to stay?”
“Yes. No. Yes.” She chewed her bottom lip. “I do want to, but I’d better not. I think it would be awkward to have my car sitting in front of your mom’s house all night.”
“I’m not a child. I’ve had overnight guests of the female persuasion.”
She didn’t want to think about any of the other women that had been persuading Mason to do anything. She liked the idea that her body was the only one that his hands had roamed over.
That was ridiculous, of course. She knew he’d been with other women, but she wanted to believe there was something special about the way he was with her.
Because she definitely felt something different with him. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was exactly. It might have been the way she felt so comfortable with him, so at ease, whether they were eating a meal together or lying in his bed. Or maybe it was the way he made her laugh. Or perhaps it was the push and pull of their conversation—the way that she teased him, and he grinned and teased her back.
Mason was smart. She liked his wit and his dry sense of humor. But somehow she didn’t think he saw himself that way. Maybe it was the curse of living in the shadow of a famous older brother, especially one who was larger than life like Rockford, but Mason had plenty of charm and charisma of his own.
He had more than enough attributes that he didn’t need to compete with or compare himself to Rock.
Mason was a great guy all on his own. And he was a guy who deserved a woman who saw that and appreciated it.
Guilt roiled in her stomach like a prickly ball, poking and tearing at her insides. She liked this guy, liked him a lot. It was more than just his hard abs and his seriously muscled body—and even more than that incredible thing he’d done with his tongue.
She liked him.
And hated herself for deceiving him.
For one moment, she considered coming clean with him. Telling him the truth—but what would she say? That she started out using him to get a story on his brother, but she really liked him now. Yeah, that would go over really well.
And she still didn’t have enough on Rock—didn’t have enough dirt to write an article that would earn her the kind of money that she needed to save her grandmother’s house.
And she needed to save her grandmother’s house above all.
But just thinking about what was going to happen when they all found out caused a dull ache to pound in her skull. This whole family was going to hate her.
She’d already blown it, already gotten too close. Even though she’d told herself, promised herself, that she wouldn’t get involved again. That she wouldn’t risk her heart with another guy.
Apparently she was a slow learner.
But she didn’t have to be. She could stop this now. Before she did any more damage. Before she made the situation any worse.
She scrubbed her palm against her forehead, trying to think of another solution, anything to get her out of writing this article. Maybe she could become a stripper, except that she had no rhythm and the only dance moves she knew were the ones to the music video of “Thriller,” which she didn’t think would make much of a striptease routine. Not to mention the fact that she had no upper-body strength, so she’d probably slide off the pole.
She’d heard people could make quick money with virtual currency. Maybe she could mine for Bitcoin. Oh wait, she forgot about a few minor problems, like first of all, she didn’t know exactly what Bitcoin was or how it worked, and second, she had no earthly or virtual clue how to mine for it.
“I’d better go. I’ve got a bit of a headache coming on, and I’m sure you still have work to do tonight.”
He narrowed his eyes and studied her face. “You know, that headache excuse is supposed to be used beforehand to get you out of doing the deed.”
“I wasn’t trying to get out of doing the deed. In fact, the deed itself was really quite amazing.”
A cocky grin tugged at his mouth. “Yeah, it was.”
“But I really should go.” She crawled out of bed, bringing the sheets with her and wrapping them around her body. “But my clothes are still lying in a soaking-wet pile in the bottom of your shower. Do you think I could borrow this sheet? I’ve heard togas are coming back in style.”
He chuckled as he turned on the bedside lamp, then pushed off the bed and crossed to his dresser.
She admired the view as he dug through the drawers. Mason James had one hell of a body.
He turned around, a T-shirt and a pair of sweats in his arms. “Were you checking out my butt?”
“I was.” She grinned and lowered her eyes. “But now I’m checking out some of your other finer assets.”
“Oh yeah?” He took a step closer and tugged on the corner of the sheet. “Then it’s only fair that I get to check out your assets too.”
“You’ve been checking them out for the last several hours.”
“It wasn’t enough. I want more.” He gestured to the sheet. “I want to see you. All of you. With the lights on. Lose the sheet.”
With the lights on? Come on.
She hardly ever let a man see her like that. Naked in bed was one thing—that was different. That was on her back so her stomach looked flat, and it was usually in a haze of passion, and sometimes alcohol, so she wasn’t thinking about it.
This was another thing entirely. This took guts and confidence—attributes that she was sorely lacking. This took the new Tess.
The new Tess was brave and gutsy, and she tried to channel her alter ego.
She reminded herself that he had already seen her…well, her everything, and he made her feel confident. Made her feel brazen and bold. She didn’t need an alter ego. She just needed to be herself. She took a deep breath and let the sheet drop to the floor.
She stood naked in front of him, her bravado dropping with the sheet.
Even though he’d already seen and touched every part of her, this was different.
This was her, the real Tess, standing naked before him, letting him fill his gaze with her, letting him study her imperfections and flaws.
And he was filling his gaze. His eyes were hungry, feasting on her every curve.
“You’re looking at me like you’re the Big, Bad Wolf, and you want to devour me.”
“I do. Especially since you just lost your ‘riding hood.’” He licked his lips and flashed her a roguish smile.
His playfulness emboldened her, and she planted her fist on her hip, pushed up her chest, and batted her eyes. “Why, Mason, what big teeth you have…”
“The better to eat you with, my dear.”
He let out a low growl, then tossed the spare clothes he’d been holding and lunged at her, grabbing her around the middle and playfully nibbling at her neck.
She shrieked with laughter as they fell onto the bed, her headache forgotten as he nibbled at more than just her neck.
Chapter 12
As the screen door of the bunkhouse slammed behind her, Tess was already rethinking her decision to leave the comfort of Mason’s bed.
The rain had stopped, and dusk was settling on the farm. Sounds of the animals filled the air, and light spilled from the big, open barn door. She looked around the ranch and tried to envision a life there, tried to imagine waking in the morning with chores to do or sitting on the porch in the evening with Mason watching the sun dip below the horizon.
It could be a good life. The kind of life she could only dream about. Because that’s all it was—a dream. A beautiful fantasy that could never, would never, be hers. She did not get a dream life like this. It simply was not in the cards for he
r.
At one time, when she’d been a young girl—back before her parents’ accident, back when life was wonderful and simple—she did believe. Believed that she would grow up and marry a handsome prince, a good man like her father.
But then everything changed. One tiny moment, a scant shift in circumstances, circumstances that she’d caused, had changed her entire life.
And now she didn’t get to have wonderful and simple; she didn’t get to dream of a beautiful life on a ranch with a cute cowboy who made her heart flutter. Not after what she’d done.
Even though she’d spent her life trying to make up for that one catastrophic mistake, it was always there under the surface, waiting to remind her that she didn’t deserve happiness, wasn’t worthy of love, and didn’t get to have the happy life that she’d robbed her parents of.
She could have glimpses of it, moments like tonight spent in the arms of a man who made her feel special, made her feel worthy, but those moments didn’t last. She knew it, could feel it coming like the change of pressure in the air before a storm. A storm of her own making.
Mason was a good man, a decent man, a man she could imagine herself with. Maybe. If she’d met him under different circumstances. If there weren’t other people involved—like her boss, Mason’s brother, and her grandmother.
If it had been just the two of them, they might have had a chance. But not now. Not with what she had to do.
She let out a sigh as she opened the door to her car and gestured for Dewey to get in. But the little dog must have heard something in the barn. His ears pricked up, and he lifted his snout to sniff the air. He let out a small yip and took off running, barreling full speed across the driveway and through the barn door.
Tess tossed her things in her car and took off after him. “Dewey, get back here.” She rushed through the barn door, imagining the dog getting trampled by the animals inside the barn.
But instead of running toward the animals, Dewey had run to the man standing at the workbench.
“He’s okay,” Rock said, bending down to scoop up the dog. He scratched him behind the ears. “You’re a funny little thing, aren’t you?”
“Sorry, he got away from me.” She couldn’t believe her luck. This was her chance to talk to Rock alone. To ask him some questions and see if she could dig out anything useful to use in the story.
“No biggie.”
She glanced down at the lumber and tools on the workbench. “What are you working on?”
“I’m making a frame for Quinn.”
Her brow creased. “Why? I thought the NHL paid you pretty well.” Maybe there was a story here—maybe Rock was having financial difficulties. “Can’t you just buy her one?”
He chuckled. “Yes, I could. But not like this one.” He pointed to the large branch that lay on one side of the bench. “I cut that from ‘our’ tree, and I’m making a frame out of the wood.”
Ah. Finding a flaw in this guy was going to be harder than she’d thought. “Wow.”
“I know. I can be kind of a sentimental sap sometimes,” he said with a shrug.
“I think it’s nice. How do you even know how to do that?”
“My dad taught me. From the time we could hold a hammer or read a level, he was always teaching all of us boys how to use tools to build or fix stuff.” He took a sip of beer from a bottle on the bench, then held it up to her. “Want one?”
“Uh…sure.” She didn’t really want one but thought maybe if they were having a beer together, he might open up to her, share a few stories.
He crossed to an ancient refrigerator against the side wall, the dog still clutched to his chest. The fridge was full of pop, beer, and bottled water. He pulled a bottle free and twisted the lid off before handing it to her.
She took a swallow, then leaned against the side of the workbench. “I think it’s pretty cool that all of you boys got a chance to know your dad before he… Well, you know…”
“Died?” Rock finished for her.
Grr. She was such an idiot. Why would she bring up his dad? Talking about someone’s deceased parent usually immediately shut the conversation down—at least it did when anyone brought up the subject of her parents. “Sorry.”
He shrugged. “It is what it is. He was a good man, and we’re lucky we got the time with him that we did. I think he, and my mom, shaped us into the men we are today.”
“And now you get a chance to be a dad to Max. He seems like a great kid.” There, that ought to do it, swing the conversation back to him and Quinn and their new family.
Rock chuckled. “He is. And I love him like he was my own. I’m planning to adopt him.” He held Dewey up, the little dog looking even smaller in his large hands. “What about this guy? Mason said you found him in a parking lot. Are you going to adopt him?”
She grinned. “I think so. I’ve never been a dog mom before.”
“He’s going to need you. Because this little mutt has the kind of face that only a mother could love.” He chuckled and passed the dog to her.
She burst out laughing, both at Rock’s joke and the way Dewey’s legs frantically bicycled in the air as he tried to get to her.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?” a voice asked from behind her. A voice that did not sound happy.
She turned to see Mason standing in the doorway of the barn, a scowl on his lips.
“Hey, Mace,” Rock said, finally succeeding in dumping the squirming dog into her arms. “I was just telling your girl here…”
“She’s not…” Mason stopped himself, clamping his lips together in a tight line, then glared toward her. “I thought you were leaving.”
“I was. I mean, I am. The dog got away from me and ran in here.”
“Yeah, I see that. Did he also run to the fridge and crack you a beer?”
“What? No, of course not.” Why was he so angry? “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I’ll leave you to your beer.” He let out a sigh, his shoulders sinking as he turned and walked out of the barn.
She ran after him, catching up to him as he neared her car. “Mason, wait.”
He whirled around, his mouth set in a hard line. “Wait for what?”
“For me to talk to you. To explain.”
“To explain what? That you barely left my bed and somehow conveniently ended up in the barn drinking and giggling with my older brother?”
Her back bristled. “I wasn’t giggling.”
He stared at her, his eyes dark and angry.
She tried to imagine how it would have looked from Mason’s perspective, coming into the barn and seeing her drinking and laughing with his brother. Okay, it might have looked bad, but nothing had been happening. “I didn’t go looking for him. The dog ran into the barn, and he was just there.”
“So you decided to hang out and have a beer? I thought you had a headache.”
“I did. I do.” It had only been a dull throb before, but it was pounding against her forehead now.
“It didn’t look like it to me.”
His tone was starting to annoy her. A spark of temper lit, and she lashed back, “Surely you don’t think I was trying to come on to your brother!”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” he muttered.
“Well, it would be for me,” she spat back, her anger really rising now. “What kind of woman do you think I am?”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I only just met you yesterday.”
“Well, that fact didn’t seem to affect your earlier decision to take me to bed.”
“Hey, don’t get mad at me. I didn’t do anything wrong here.”
Except jump to some pretty terrible conclusions.
“Neither did I.” Guilt slammed into her like a Mack truck. Because she knew she had been doing something wrong. Nothing like he was suggesting. She wa
sn’t interested in Rock romantically, but she was interested in his story, in finding out the facts behind his hasty wedding to the girl back home.
Mason scrubbed a hand across his eyes and forehead. “I think you should go.”
She clutched the dog tighter to her chest, holding on to him as if he were a life vest in a raging storm. “Yeah, I think I probably should.”
He shoved his hands in his front pockets and stared at the ground next to her feet. “We can talk tomorrow.” He turned his back and headed toward the bunkhouse.
* * *
Home sweet home.
Tess glanced around the parking lot before pulling her car into the spot behind the library.
It was already past eight, and the sky had gone dark, with just a sliver of a moon shining through the clouds. The rain had returned, and a light mist and fog blanketed the trees behind the alley. She hoped the darkness and the gloomy weather would help conceal her car.
When they’d finally crawled out of bed again, she’d tugged her hair into a ponytail and put on the sweats and T-shirt that Mason had dropped on the floor. Her bra and underwear were still soaked, so she’d gone commando, and when she’d left the bunkhouse, she’d felt sexy and a little racy.
Now she just felt cold, and hurt, and ashamed. And anxious about spending another night in her car.
Dewey whined in the seat next to her, almost as if he could sense her apprehension.
“I know, boy. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s all we’ve got for tonight.” She stroked his head and tried not to think about her wonderfully comfy bed at home.
Or her anxious grandmother.
Thankfully, she’d left her phone in her purse so it hadn’t gotten soaked along with her clothes in the afternoon rainstorm. But when she’d finally gotten back to it, she saw several missed calls and worried texts from Mimi.
She’d called her grandmother as she’d pulled away from the farm to let her know she hadn’t fallen victim to a horrible accident or a serial killer—Mimi had the same kind of imagination she did—and that she just hadn’t had her phone on her.
Her chest ached from wanting to tell her grandmother everything that was happening—the cute guy, the dilemma of the story, the predicament of having to hurt and deceive people she was really starting to care about. There wasn’t much she kept from her grandmother, but this was a hard one.
