by Jennie Marts
She leaned against his sturdy chest and squeezed his hand. “You know how I told you that my parents died when I was younger?”
“Yeah. You said they were in a car accident.”
“Well, what I didn’t tell you was that it was my fault.”
Chapter 18
“Your fault?” Mason asked. “That’s ridiculous. You were a kid. It couldn’t have been your fault.”
Tess squeezed her eyes together and sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I can assure you it was. I mean, I wasn’t driving the car, but it was my fault that we were in the accident.”
“We? You were in the car?”
She nodded. “The back seat. We were going on a trip to visit my other grandparents, my mom’s folks. It was a four-hour drive, and at the time, I had this little set of dolls that I used to play with all the time. They came in their own special case and had a bunch of different outfits and accessories. I could play with them for hours and had planned to set up a whole adventure for them in the back seat during the trip. Except I forgot to bring them. My dad had reminded me three times to put anything I wanted to bring by the door, and I forgot. I’d been playing with them in my room and got distracted and left them on my bed.”
Her shoulders hunched forward, and she brought her knees closer to her chest, as if curling into herself might guard her from the truth of the story. “We’d only been gone about fifteen minutes. We’d just gotten on the highway when I realized that I’d forgotten them. And I started crying, begging my father to go back, acting like those dolls were the key to heaven instead of some stupid plastic toys. He refused at first, said that I would learn for next time, which is what any good parent would do. And they were good parents.” She choked on her words, then whispered, “The best.”
Mason nodded but didn’t say anything. His expression remained calm, caring, and he acted like he understood. But he couldn’t understand. No one could.
Talking about it brought the memories back, as sharp and as clear as if she were sitting in the back seat again, the gray fabric of the seat belt digging into her chest as she leaned forward to plead with her father.
A shiver ran over her skin, and Mason tightened his arm around her shoulders.
“Normally my dad wouldn’t be swayed, and normally I wouldn’t have pressed it, but I’d had my heart set on playing with those dolls during the whole car trip, and I burst into tears, crying and sobbing and pleading with my dad to go back. I cried so hard I almost made myself sick. And he finally relented. I had thrown a big-enough fit, been enough of a brat, and he finally agreed to turn around and go back. He was angry and frustrated and must not have been paying enough attention when he turned the car around, because that’s when we got hit.”
She heard Mason’s sharp intake of breath, but couldn’t look at him. “Broadsided by another car that sent us off the road. We hit the shoulder and the car slid off the embankment, rolling several times and finally coming to a stop against the side of a tree. The car was tipped forward, and I was hanging from my seat belt. I can still remember the screech of the metal and the sounds of my mom’s terrified screams. Then everything went silent. No engine, no other cars around us, no sounds of breathing from anyone but me.”
She shook her head and swallowed at the thickness in her throat.
Mason brushed away the tears that wet her cheeks. She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying. She sniffed and let out a shuddering breath. “Anyway, after that I went to live with my grandma…my dad’s mom, Mimi. And she is the most incredible woman. She took in this traumatized little girl without a second thought. And I swear, she has the patience of a saint.
“I didn’t talk for a year. Was inconsolable. Mimi tried. She was pretty much the only person I could stand to be around. And she never pressured me. Never tried to make me to talk. She just loved me. And she brought me journals and markers and reams of notebooks to express myself, but she always told people, ‘She’ll talk when she’s ready.’”
“And obviously you must have finally started talking again at some point.”
“I did. Finally. But I wasn’t really ever the same. I had been a little timid before, but after the accident, I was painfully shy. And suddenly I was scared of everything, scared of my own shadow. And when I eventually started talking again, I had developed a slight stutter when I spoke. I went to therapy for years—speech therapy, physical therapy because I’d broken my leg—and I saw a child therapist for PTSD. I don’t know if they called it that back then, but that’s what it was.”
“But surely if you saw a therapist, they would have told you that the accident wasn’t your fault. You were just a kid.” Mason’s eyes were full of compassion, and he pulled her closer.
She shook her head. She didn’t want him feeling sorry for her. “It doesn’t matter how old I was. I was acting like a brat, and if I hadn’t thrown such a fit, or if I had just remembered my dolls in the first place, we never would have turned the car around and my family would still be here today.”
“You don’t know that. Accidents happen every day. And that’s what happened to your family. An accident.”
He wasn’t going to convince her, but the fact that she’d told him, and he hadn’t seemed to judge or condemn her, loosened a small amount of the tightness in her chest.
“I don’t know why I told you all of that. I could have started with the fact that I used to have a problem with stuttering.”
He brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. “I’m glad you told me.”
She pushed her shoulders back and blew out a breath. “I did eventually grow out of the stuttering. Except for when I get really nervous, then it can come back. Which leads me to the answer to your question of why I haven’t dated in a year.
“I was working for this company, in a leadership type role, I guess.” She’d been with another magazine, one that appreciated stories about kitten rescuers, and had worked her way up to being an associate. “I met a guy who had just started, and he must have thought dating me would somehow help his chances of moving up in the company. It wouldn’t have. I had zero pull. But anyway, I didn’t know that’s what he was doing at the time, and I really liked him. He seemed cute and funny and acted like he liked me too. But then I had to give this big presentation to a bunch of people…”
She paused and looked at Mason. “You can see where this is going, can’t you? Me, speaking in front of a bunch of people. It doesn’t matter what it was about. All that matters is that I got through it. I was nervous as hell, and my stutter came out a few times, but I thought I’d done okay. After it was over, I went to find Rob, the guy I was dating. He’d been in the room, and I guess I was looking to celebrate a little, or for some confirmation that I’d done okay.
“I found him in the break room with a group of our colleagues. He didn’t know I’d come in, because he was too busy telling a story.” She took a deep breath. “A story that involved an imitation of a part of my presentation where I’d really stuttered.”
A small hangnail had formed on her thumb, and she picked at the loose piece of her cuticle. She couldn’t look at Mason. It was too humiliating. “He was apparently mocking me and the thing about myself that I was the most self-conscious of. And everyone was laughing, like he was hilarious and I was a big joke.”
Mason’s hands clenched into fists. “What an asshole. I would have punched the guy in the throat.”
She blinked at the tears pricking her eyes and let out a light chuckle, surprised that she could laugh at all. She tried to keep going, but couldn’t seem to find her voice. “It was the single most humiliating moment of my life,” she finally whispered. “I was mortified.”
“Why? You shouldn’t have been embarrassed. That idiot Rob is the one who should have been embarrassed. And all the jackasses standing around listening to him make fun of you. One of them should have stepped up and knocked ou
t a couple of that jerk’s teeth. See how good a storyteller he’d be then.”
A small smile pulled at her lips. She liked the way Mason’s body tensed, the way his brows knit together in obvious anger, the way he stood up for her and wanted to belt the guy instead of awkwardly listening, then changing the subject as fast as he could. Which was what she’d expected him to do.
Another piece of the hard shell sealed around her heart cracked and fell away.
She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Mason’s whiskered cheek.
“What was that for?”
“For wanting to punch Rob in the throat.”
“I want to do more than that. I’d like to hook him by the leg to the back of my tractor and haul him around the pasture for an hour or so. Do you have his address? I could find this guy.”
She shook her head, a real grin forming on her face. “No. I deleted his contact from my phone. In fact, I quit my job. That day. I never saw or talked to him again.”
“Why did you quit? He should have been fired. You could have called HR, got him and the rest of them sacked.”
“I didn’t want to. I didn’t ever want to face those people again. He eventually realized that I was standing there and everyone tried to apologize, but it was too late. I couldn’t stand to be there another second. So I left. I eventually found another job, but I didn’t go out with another guy, until…well, you, I guess.”
“Wow. I can see why. But Tess, you gotta know, most men—hell, most human beings—aren’t like that.”
“I know. And I know there are good guys out there.” She offered him a shy smile. “Present company included. But it wasn’t worth the risk. It was just easier to stay home.” She looked down at Dewey, who was curled between Theo and the side of the sofa next to Mason’s legs. “I can see why some women prefer the company of dogs.”
He chuckled, then rested the back of his fingers against her cheek. “Thank you.”
“For what? For bringing down the mood with my sad story and depressing life.”
“No. For sharing your story with me. It means a lot.”
She tried to swallow around the swelling in her throat, then cleared it instead. “Well, enough of this gloomy stuff.” She offered him a brave smile. “Let’s go back to talking about pecan pie and soft-serve ice cream and your favorite country-and-western singers.”
His eyes narrowed, and he looked like he was about to say something else, but instead, he smiled back, letting out the tension in his shoulders. “Okay. Who are your favorite country singers?”
“No way. I’m done talking about me. I’ve already said more words in the last twenty minutes that I usually do in a whole day.” It was true. She’d shared more with Mason than she had with most of her girlfriends. She wanted to move on, talk about something lighter, something that would make him smile again, make him laugh. “Tell me more about some things that you love. Besides maple frosting, I know you love your mom and your brothers—”
“And my horse and my dog.”
“That goes without saying. Of course, your horse and your dog.” She tapped her lip, searching for another question to ask. “How about this… Have you ever been in love?”
His eyes widened, and he studied her face as if trying to decide if she wanted a serious answer or a light one.
“I thought I was,” he finally said. “Once. But I was mistaken.”
“Mistaken? What do you mean?”
“It was a long time ago. I was a kid. I had all these big feelings, and I thought they were love.” He picked up a strand of her hair and wrapped it around his fingers. “But just recently, I met someone who is challenging everything I thought I knew about love. Who makes my heart pound in my chest so hard that I think it might break through my skin.”
He stared at her mouth and ran the edge of his thumb along her bottom lip. “Who flashes me a smile and makes me feel like I’m a superhero. Who trusted me enough to share the deepest story of her heart.” He brushed the back of his fingers along her side. “And who keeps me awake at night thinking about the feel of her skin and the taste of her lips.”
“Just how recently did you meet this person?” she whispered, her own heart beating a quick staccato rhythm.
“Just a few days ago.”
“A few days ago, huh? How did you meet?”
A grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “She flashed me her bra, and I was lost.”
“Wow. That must’ve been some bra.”
“It was. In fact, I’m hoping to get another look at it soon.”
She let out a small chuckle, then pulled her jersey over her head and tossed it behind the sofa. What was it about this man that had her whipping her shirt off every time she was around him? “Is this soon enough?”
He glanced down. “Mmm-hmm. And it still looks pretty good. But I know how it could look better.”
“How’s that?”
“If it were lying on the floor.”
* * *
Tessa sat at the kitchen table the next morning and watched Mason pull on his boots. Her hair was loose, and all she had on was the hockey jersey from the day before and a pair of panties.
He’d made her breakfast, and the scent of bacon and maple syrup still lingered in the air. “I’m sorry to leave you like this,” he said. “But it can’t be helped. This is the only morning I can get to auction, and I need to take care of some ranch business.”
“Are you kidding? You made me bacon and fed my dog. As far as I’m concerned, my day has already been made.” It was funny how she was already thinking of Dewey as hers.
“You’re easy to please.”
She offered him a naughty smile. “I think that’s already been established.”
He let out a chuckle. “I still feel bad leaving you alone.”
“I’ll be fine. Really. I know you’re a busy man and you have things to do.” She had things to do too. Like write an article about his famous brother.
She’d lain awake the night before trying to come up with a way to get them all out of this mess. And she might have come up with a halfway decent idea. An idea that involved neither her naked body nor selling illegal drugs.
If she could get all the pieces to fall into place, she might be able to save her grandmother’s house and still salvage a relationship with Mason and his family. And after everything they’d talked about the night before, she felt like a relationship, a real relationship, was actually in the realm of possibility.
“I was thinking I’d like to take the dogs for a walk around the ranch, but I can go into town and hang out at the library as well,” she told him.
He gave her a look, suggesting his thoughts had gone to the night he’d found her at the library. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s fine for you to stay here. You can walk all over the ranch. And if you’re looking for reading material, I have plenty. My shelves are stacked with books. And if you can’t find something there, I’m sure you could borrow something from my mom.”
“I can find plenty of things to amuse myself. Plus I have a zillion books on my to-be-read list on my Kindle.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He crossed the room, leaned down, and captured her mouth in a kiss. “Maybe I should blow off the auction and get you naked and back into bed.” He ran his hand up her thigh and under the hem of the jersey as he eyed the kitchen table. “Or right here would do nicely as well.”
The idea of Mason getting her naked and having his way with her on the kitchen table had surges of heat licking up her spine. And his hand between her legs had her mind spinning with dark, delicious thoughts of indecent behavior.
He groaned and pulled his hand away. “But I can’t. I’ve got to go.”
She sighed, already missing the heat of his large palm as she patted the wooden surface. “Don’t worry. The table
will still be here when you get back.”
He chuckled and gave her one last kiss, then whistled for Theo, and the two of them headed out the door.
Tess spent the next hour taking a luxurious bath and reading a book.
Digging through her bag, she pulled out a pair of jeans and her last clean shirt, a light-pink cotton V-neck that hugged her body. Thank goodness she’d thrown in so many choices for alternative outfits. Sometimes it helped to be a shameful over-packer.
She had applied her makeup and fluffed out her hair, letting it air-dry as she settled on the sofa with the notepad and pen. The idea that had come to her was about a different kind of story to write. She prayed the magazine would still want it because of all the details she would layer into it, details that the public—especially the single women of Colorado—would want to know about their favorite hot hockey-playing cowboy.
The magazine wanted a story about the bad-boy bachelor and his sudden wedding, and that’s what she would give them. It would still be a story about Rock and would star him and Quinn, but it would highlight their love story instead of smearing it.
She worked on the article for several hours, scribbling and scratching and perfecting the wording. She could type it up later.
But for now, she just needed to get the story out and on paper.
Finally finished, she let out a sigh and closed the notepad, happy with the results and hoping this would be the answer.
Now came the hard part. She had to talk to Rock and Quinn—had to come clean with them about who she was and what she was really doing there. Or what she’d been doing there in the beginning. She prayed they would see her sincerity and believe she really cared about Mason, cared about the whole family.
But they might not. Rock hated reporters. Her palms began to sweat, and she started to hyperventilate just thinking about admitting to him that she was one. Dread consumed her as she imagined their response.
