by Mary Manners
8
Mason set the Skill saw on the floor and shook sawdust from his hair. The sweet scent of lumber, both familiar and oddly comforting, mingled with dust motes that danced through light. Heat from sunshine spilling over the display window he’d just installed at Posts and Pages warmed his back through a navy T-shirt, and one glance in the direction of the bustling street told him last week’s monster snowstorm was all but forgotten. The boulevard was clear of the white stuff and the last of stubborn icicles dripped along gutters to disappear into sewer drains. The temperature had climbed to a balmy fifty-five degrees and held—perfect weather for a construction project.
“Wow, this looks great.” Josie strode into the room, carrying a carton of paperbacks. “All this space…it’s lovely.”
“I’m going to finish the shelving by day’s end.” Mason took the box from her and set it on the counter. “That will give you even more display room.”
“You’re fast.” She smiled, but the light didn’t quite meet her eyes. “At this rate you’ll be done by the end of the week.”
“I can’t take all the credit.” He wondered if she felt as off-kilter as he did. Since the snowy night at the inn he felt like he’d come to the end of a chapter where a couple pages were missing, leaving him wondering. “Ryder’s in a down time now at work so he stopped by this morning to help. You just missed him.”
“My errands ran longer than expected. I took a quick detour to the grocery store, too.” She stroked a spatter of sawdust from his cheek, causing his pulse to kick into overdrive. “We were out of coffee and since I was there, I picked up a couple of steaks. I thought you might want to come over for dinner tonight.”
“Are you asking me out?”
“Uh-uh.” She grinned impishly. “I’m asking you in. On one condition, though—you do the grilling.”
“Next thing I know, you’ll have me washing the dishes, too.”
“My dishwasher is on the fritz, so…” The grin turned to laughter. “Since you mentioned it…”
“I put my foot down at drying, though.” Mason flicked one of the silver teardrop earrings that dangled from her lobes. He wanted more, so much more, but he held his emotions by the reins. Each night while he lay in bed waiting for sleep to claim him he heard her voice—the three words she’d murmured as he covered her with the comforter—over and over again. She’d never mentioned those words again though, not in the entire week since then. Life was business as usual around Willow Lake, whatever that meant. His finger slipped from her earring to graze her cheek. “I have to run out to Hunter’s first. He mentioned something about a bid on the City Hall’s expansion. He wants to go over the details and see if the project fits into my schedule.”
“Is that a possibility?”
“Maybe. As long as you don’t work me to death here.” He stepped away from her and drew a carpenter’s pencil from his tool belt, measured a mark on a two-by-four, and reached for the saw. As he engaged the blade, Josie covered her ears at the grating shriek. Mason laughed and shouted over the commotion. “In the meantime, I could use a cup of coffee, heavy on the cream.”
****
“Those are some steaks.” Mason motioned to the thick-cut T-bones marinating in a glass baking dish on Josie’s kitchen counter. “Did you go out and kill the fatted calf?”
“Hardly.” She tossed him an impish grin. “I just know your appetite. Nothing’s safe from the clutches of your cavernous belly.”
“Ouch.” But he patted his stomach, grinning. “I can’t help it if I enjoy my food.”
“I suppose not.” She removed a bowl of salad from the fridge. Music drifted from a radio on the counter as Kenny Chesney crooned about the good stuff. Mason knew all about the good stuff—he was living it right here with Josie. “I remembered the dressing you like.”
“Peppercorn ranch?”
“That’s right. Homemade, too.” She set the bowl on the table, added two settings of plates and silverware.
“That sounds great. You don’t forget much, do you?”
“No.” As she crossed back to the fridge, he caught the subtle scent of her perfume—musky and filled with sass. Her sable hair, shimmering beneath sunlight that spilled through an over-sink window, was gathered back in a silver butterfly clip that illuminated the blue of her eyes. “Sweet tea OK?”
“Perfect.” He nodded and reached for the steaks as his heart morphed from muscle to a cluster of nerves. “I’d better get these on the grill. Just point me in the right direction.”
“The grill’s out there.” Josie nodded toward double French doors. “On the deck. I lit the coals a while ago, so they should be good to go.”
“Coal instead of propane, huh?” Mason was pleased. Nothing beat the flavor of a steak slow-grilled over charcoal. His belly cried out in anticipation, easing his pulse down a notch. “I’m impressed.”
“I’ll bring your tea in a minute.”
“Take your time.”
Mason slipped through the doors and onto the small, neat patio where the coals of a small grill sent smoke curling into the late-afternoon sunlight. The temperature had held and even climbed a bit more since he’d called it a day at Posts and Pages and headed to meet Hunter to discuss the City Hall project. Joined with the heat of the coals, the air was mild and pleasant.
He tossed the steaks onto the grill’s grate and grinned with satisfaction as the meat began to sizzle. The rich aroma of beef swirled around him, making his mouth water. Through the glass doors, he watched Josie pour two glasses of tea and garnish each with a wedge of orange—her favorite. She called herself clumsy but he knew the truth—she moved with a fluid ease that was pure grace. She was beautiful in every way, yet she had no idea.
She’d worked hard to give the small house a warm, homey feel. Walls covered with earthen tones calmed those who entered, while potted plants carried a splash of green. A collage of photos—a testament to friends, family and fun—tacked to the fridge were proof that Josie belonged here in Willow Lake.
Where did he belong? He’d once thought the answer to that was Atlanta—the very place where he’d nurtured the business of his dreams into something more than he ever hoped it might be. But somehow, that wasn’t enough. The thought of returning to the city filled him with a sense of sadness and disappointment. There had to be more to his life than work—even work that had grown into such an unfathomable success.
He turned toward Josie as she stepped onto the patio, bringing the music with her.
****
“We must be crazy to grill in this weather.” Josie handed him a glass of tea, then set hers on a small wrought iron table beside a single lounge chair. She tugged the belt of her chunky cardigan tighter. “But the steaks sure smell good. I think I have spring fever.”
“So does your garden.” Mason took a swig of his tea and then set his glass down beside hers. “Looks like something’s beginning to bloom.”
A splash of yellow caught Josie’s attention. “Oh, my!” she gasped. “That’s your mom’s rose bush.”
“My mom’s?”
“Yes, but it’s impossible. It’s way too early for blooms and with the recent snow...”
“Tell the plant that.” Mason smirked. “What do you mean, it’s my mom’s?”
“You’ll probably think it’s silly.”
“Why would I think that?” He sat on the lounge chair and patted the cushion, drawing her to join him. “Tell me how those knock-out roses came to be.”
“Well…when I bought this house and moved in, I guess I felt a bit reminiscent.” Josie eased onto the cushion beside him. “Four walls, a roof, and no family. My parents had just moved to Portland. I guess missing them made me think a lot about your mom, and how much you must have missed her when she was gone. I remembered how she used to bake those fabulous oatmeal-raisin cookies for us to snack on while we studied. Despite the fact that your dad was gone all the time your mom made your house feel like home.”
“It was ha
rd. Dad worked so much. It really hurt to know Mom and I weren’t his priority. But Mom…she was always there. It was so hard when she got sick, and after.”
Josie shifted her weight to face him. “Every time I see the roses bloom I think of her…and you.”
The steaks sizzled and juices hissed as they splattered against the coals. Mason stood to flip them as the music drifted. When he turned back to Josie his eyes were round and so dark with emotion that the chill left her. She melted as he reached for her hand and tugged her to her feet, drawing her toward him.
“May I?”
“What?” The word was barely a whisper.
“Dance with you.”
“Yes.”
The breath rushed from her as Mason placed his hand on the small of her back, coaxing her to join him as he swayed along with the music. Mingling with the clean scent of his aftershave, she swore she smelled the sweet aroma of roses. She pressed her head to his chest and felt his heartbeat, steady and true. In the distance, a flock of birds, lured by the warmth, began to chatter.
Mason’s lips brushed the crown of her hair before feathering down to claim the sensitive skin along her temple. “Do you ever think about that morning…the first time we kissed?”
“All the time.”
Her pulse skittered as his lips inched ever closer to hers. She could barely breathe…barely speak.
“You were working on the deck at the inn with the guys and Mr. MacLaren. It was nearing the end of summer, and hot that day.”
“That’s right.” His lips brushed hers.
“It was almost too hot to read.” She could feel the warmth of sunlight as it spilled over her shoulders. “But there you all were, hammering away.”
“I could see you from the deck, sprawled out along the shore with your toes dipped in the water.”
“The heat made it hard to focus on the story.” Her brain had felt like tangled spaghetti noodles, same as it did now, as he kissed her once more. “The lake water made the heat bearable.”
In reality it had been the sight of him that heated her more than the sunshine. She’d read the same paragraph four times and still failed to absorb the content.
“Mr. MacLaren told us to take a break while he and Mrs. MacLaren ran into town for more supplies.”
“You ran out of nails, right?” They swayed in time to the music, the rest of the world fading away. Josie was aware of nothing but the warmth of his breath along her cheek, the touch of his hand along the small of her back. His heartbeat mirrored hers.
“That’s right. Ryder went after Ali—he was itching to talk to her about something. Brody sulked off—he and Catherine had had a disagreement the night before and they were still working through things. Hunter…he headed for the lake.”
“And you came after me.” Josie pressed a hand to the nape of his neck, her fingers twining along his dark hair. “You frightened me, sneaking through the brush. I dropped my book in the lake.”
“You almost fell in, too. If I hadn’t caught you…”
“But you did. And when you kissed me, the whole world seemed perfect.”
“It was, for that moment in time—a new beginning. But then Josh fell, and my mom died. The whole world crumbled away.”
“Not the whole world. I was still there, Mason.” Josie paused and slipped from his embrace. “In that moment I loved you—as I’d always loved you. But you threw that love away.”
“It’s the biggest regret of my life.” He reached for her. “Don’t go…don’t retreat. Just let me love you.”
“That’s easy to say.” Josie pressed a hand to her kiss-bruised lips. Hunger fled as she imagined a life again without Mason. The fact that he was here now, with her, was simply more than she could bear if she lost him again. “But, what about your job in Atlanta? What about when the renovations at Posts and Pages are finished? What then?”
“It will all work out.”
“That’s not enough, Mason.” She shook her head. “Not this time. Maybe you should just wrap up the steaks and go. I’m not very hungry anymore.”
9
Mason shook sawdust from his hair and grimaced. It was nearly noon and Josie had yet to show at Posts and Pages. In fact, she hadn’t shown for three days running, but had relegated tasks to her college help, instead. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was avoiding him.
Maybe she was, and he guessed he deserved it. He’d had the chance to move forward with her, and he’d failed miserably, letting her slip away once again. But he refused to lie to her, and the truth was that he just didn’t know what he planned to do when he was finished with the job in Willow Lake. So much played into the mix, with most of it beyond his control. A guy didn’t just pick up stakes and leave a business he’d built from the ashes because he wanted to. He had bills to pay and customers waiting. He had to make a living.
The bell over the front door jangled as Ryder strode through, carrying Rory in his arms. “Hey, Mace.”
“Hey yourself.” Mason drew a carpenter’s pencil from his back pocket and used it to scribble a note on a small pad of paper. “What’s going on?”
“I finished a job this morning and had to run by the pediatrician for Rory’s check-up. I noticed your truck out front so I thought I’d head in to see if you need any help.” Ryder smoothed a hand over the counter of the new information kiosk that Mason had just finished installing. “The place is really shaping up. It looks amazing in here. What does Josie think?”
“How should I know?” Mason tossed the pencil and pad onto the kiosk. “She hasn’t come around in three days.”
“That’s not like her.” Ryder’s gaze narrowed as he jostled Rory onto one hip. “I’ve never known her to miss work for more than a day at a time. What did you do?”
“Me? Why do you assume I did something? And, your kid’s drooling.” Mason pointed toward the baby’s puckered mouth as he jammed one fist between his lips and gnawed. “What’s up with that?”
“He’s teething.” Ryder wadded the hem of his T-shirt and swiped the tiny mouth. “It comes with the territory and makes him fussy as all get-out.”
“Well, I didn’t do anything to Josie.” He studied Rory, who gazed up with dark, innocent eyes shadowed in a wave of chocolate curls. The kid was cute, even in his fussy mood. Mason couldn’t help but smile. “Why is it my fault?”
“Who said anything about fault?” Ryder jostled the baby gently on one hip as he began to squall. “But since we’re on the subject…”
“She started pressuring me.”
“Pressuring? That doesn’t sound like Josie, either. Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand?”
“Of course I didn’t misunderstand.” Mason reached for Rory. “Let me take him for a few minutes. I think you can use a little help.”
“Have at it.” Ryder handed over the baby, grinning as he wiped his spittle-slimed hands along the thighs of his jeans. “Maybe you have the magic touch.”
“Of course I have the magic touch. Kids and dogs…they both love me.”
He paced in a small circle, pausing to gaze through the display glass as a cardinal flitted by. The burst of red captured Rory’s attention. The baby’s squall stilled, and he sighed as he gobbled his fist, his head lolling to rest on Mason’s shoulder. “Why are you taking her side, anyway?”
“I’m not taking anybody’s side.” Ryder ambled over to the coffee counter and poured himself a cup. “I’m just asking questions.”
“Well, I don’t have any answers.” Rory felt warm in his arms. Mason splayed one hand along his back and felt the slight rise and fall of each tiny breath. “And that stinks, because Josie’s asking questions, too.”
Ryder drew a sip of coffee, grimaced. “Ugh, this brew is terrible, and cold.”
“I know. No one makes it like Josie. Talk about a magic touch.”
“So, what has she been asking?”
“I don’t know. I was at her place the other night, grilling steaks and enjoying the conversa
tion. Everything was good…more than good. Then, suddenly she shows me this rose bush she planted in memory of my mom. I have to admit, it got me a little choked up. We started dancing—“
“Wait a minute. You danced with her, out on the deck?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Just getting all the facts straight. OK, continue.”
“And out of the blue she starts asking me stuff that I can’t answer…What do I want? What do I plan to do when I’m finished here?”
“You’re gonna dance with a woman on the deck, beneath the stars, I think she has a right to ask questions like that.”
Mason dumped the ruined coffee into the sink and tossed the foam cup into the trash.
“Sounds fair enough, all things considered,” Ryder said.
“It’s not fair. It’s…tough.”
“Nobody ever said relationships were easy.”
“Right.” A glance to the side told Mason that Rory had fallen asleep with his fist stuffed into his tiny mouth. “The kid’s out cold.”
“I see that.” Ryder grinned. “OK, maybe you do have the magic touch. But you’ll have to get one of your own, because he’s mine. So why do a few questions have you so riled?”
“I’m not riled. I’m just…frustrated.” Mason felt like picking up his hammer and pounding a box of nails, one by one, into a two-by-four. “I can’t just drop everything in Atlanta and move back here because I’ve fallen in love.”
“Wait. Whoa. What did you just say?”
“I said, I can’t just drop everything in Atlanta and move back here because—” Realization dawned like a punch to the gut. “Oh, no…oh, great…”
“Easy there. Don’t wake my son.” Ryder burst into easy laughter. “But you’ve got it bad, Mace.”
Mason felt as if he’d just leapt from the ledge of a high rise. He clung to the baby, who was a perfect fit bundled in his arms. It gave him pause. “What am I going to do?”
“I suppose that’s something you will have to decide.” Ryder reached over to take Rory from him. “And sooner better than later, my friend.”
