Dedication
This one is for all the people who’ve emailed me asking for Celia and Mason’s book. Thanks for enjoying the first two books in the series enough to want a third.
Chapter One
Cedarville, Oregon
How did she get herself into these messes? Oh, right. She had friends with the utter gall to be happy.
Celia Occam rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the fact that she was up to her eyeballs in decorations for her best friend’s surprise wedding reception. Aubrey had eloped with her new husband Price a few weeks before, without any of the frills of a real wedding, so a surprise party to celebrate the occasion was in order. Actually, the owner of the local bed and breakfast inn had insisted on throwing the shindig and had roped Celia into helping put it together. Silver balloons and navy blue streamers hung from every surface of the B&B.
“Give me a hand with this, won’t you, dear?” Mrs. Chambers called. The elderly woman—and certified small town busybody—wobbled on top of a stepladder, the white knot coiled on top of her head wobbling even more precariously.
Celia’s heart tripped when she saw the old lady go up on her tiptoes to string more streamers from a doorway. “Get down, Mrs. Chambers.”
“Oh, I can do it. Just hold—”
“No, ma’am.” She leaped up from where she knelt attaching a table skirt, jogging over to brace the other woman’s legs. “Please, stop. I can take care of it for you. Really. Come away from there.”
“If you insist.” Climbing down with more grace than Celia would have imagined, Mrs. Chambers brushed off her dress. Then she wagged her finger. “I’ve told you to call me Tori.”
“Right. Tori.” Celia sighed in relief at having the older woman on solid ground, grabbed the dangling end of the streamer and hopped up on the ladder while Tori watched. “I might slip and call you Mrs. C sometimes, Mrs. C.”
“So I see.” Tori laughed, but then her tone turned coy and teasing. “Mason Delacroix is coming to the party tonight.”
Celia’s heart thumped at the mention of his name. She stomped down on the reaction, ignoring it as she had for the year she’d known him. Forcing her voice into nonchalance, she busied herself with hanging more paper doodads. “Well, he’s the groom’s brother, so I assumed you invited him.”
“He’s such a nice young man. Handsome too.” Tori handed her a piece of tape for the next streamer. “I think he likes you.”
“I think he’d just like to get in my pants,” Celia muttered.
“What was that, dear?”
“Nothing.” She glanced down and smiled as innocently as she could, which wasn’t very, but she gave it a shot.
Tori’s white bun teetered when she tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. Lately, she’d been hell-bent in her mission to fix Celia and Mason up, and she fired a new salvo. “He’d be good for you, and he does like you. You should take him up on it the next time he asks you out. He’s not going to your hair salon just for his looks.”
Of course, everyone knew Mason made appointments at Occam’s Razor to have her shave his head on a regular basis. Each time he’d come in, he’d asked her out. But he hadn’t come in the last few weeks, and his hair had grown into a dark stubble. It did nothing to detract from his good looks. Tori was right about that… Mason was undeniably handsome.
When Celia didn’t respond, Tori heaved a dramatically disappointed sigh. “I’ll just go see if Jerry needs help in the kitchen.”
“You do that.” Celia shook her head as the town gossip bustled away, reluctant affection winding through her. Mrs. Chambers got her hair washed and styled at Celia’s salon at least three times a week, just for an excuse to eavesdrop on any juicy conversations that might be going on. The woman knew everything about everyone—her abilities in that arena never failed to impress Celia. Spending a good portion of her childhood in Cedarville meant everyone knew everything about Celia’s sordid past already, so she didn’t have to worry about what Tori might hear about her. Ah, small town life.
While she twisted and taped up the crinkled paper decorations, she could hear the sound of Tori talking to Jerry. The flamingly gay man was Celia’s newest stylist, and he’d struck up a tight friendship with the gossipy biddy that she couldn’t begin to understand. But as long as they were happy, Celia wasn’t about to question it. She’d figured out long ago that it was best to enjoy the moment she was in, and worry as little as possible about things she couldn’t change. If people were happy, it was all good.
“There,” she said, affixing the last bunch of balloons to the corner of the doorframe. Clamoring off the stepladder, she executed a slow spin to take in the whole room. She propped her hands on her hips and grinned.
“It looks great,” a deep voice rumbled from directly behind her.
A high-pitched squeak erupted from her throat, and she whipped around. “Damn it, Mason! Don’t sneak up on people like that. Make a noise or something.”
“I did make a noise. I said it looked great. Good to see you again, Celia.” One dark eyebrow rose, but not an ounce of chagrin crossed his face. Instead, he just grinned at her, a slow, wicked smile that would make any woman’s toes curl.
Any woman except her, damn it. She was immune, and that was final. Her body could just get with the program and stop melting down every time he came near her. She crossed her arms over her breasts to cover her beading nipples, which just drew his gaze down to her cleavage. A wave of heat sluiced through her, and she dropped her arms. “What are you doing here?”
If she sounded breathless and her heart beat too fast, she blamed on it the fact that he’d startled her. It was a lie and she knew it. The man was hot enough to be hazardous to her mental well being. Just having him this close made her pulse flutter. The truth was, the man was sex on a stick. At well over six foot tall, he was a solid wall of muscle. Then again, firefighters had to be in good shape. His sub-bass voice and emerald eyes just completed one scrumptious package. She cleared her throat, tearing her gaze away from every luscious inch of him. The last thing she wanted was to encourage him to come on to her. Again. He’d slacked off lately, and she shouldn’t mess with that progress.
One of his broad shoulders dipped in a shrug, his smile never faltering. “Jerry asked me to come over early to help out. Price is my brother, after all.”
Mrs. Chambers had done the same thing with her. Aubrey was Celia’s best friend, after all. It was all she could do not to roll her eyes. From the moment she’d hired him, Jerry had jumped on Tori’s bandwagon to try to hook Celia up with Mason. Why they were so interested in playing cupid, she had no clue. Her love life—or lack thereof—was no one’s business but her own. Mason seemed amused by the extra help in his pursuit of her, which had been beyond persistent until recently.
She was firing Jerry’s ass the moment she saw him again.
“Well, I’m sure they could use a hand bringing up bottles of champagne from the cellar. Jerry’s not one for heavy lifting.” Her über-effeminate employee never hefted anything weightier than a pair of trimming shears. She tossed her head and looked anywhere except at Mason. “People should start arriving in about half an hour.”
He stepped closer, and a shiver of awareness went down her spine. His breath brushed against her skin when he spoke. “You look beautiful tonight.”
Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to suppress the longing that expanded inside her. This happened whenever he was near. Her hormones reminded her how long it had been since she’d had a man moving over her, in her. She could only be thankful that he didn’t touch her, that he’d never reached for her. It had taken everything inside Celia not to give in all these months. Her
sanity might not survive if he pushed any harder, but her body’s needs had nothing to do with reason or sanity. She pulled in a slow breath, inhaling the potent masculine scent of him. She had to get away from him before she jumped him. Scuttling back, she turned to face him. “Thank you. It’s a new dress.”
“Only you could pull off combat boots with a dress and make it look good.” He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. It made her want to rip his clothes off, throw him to the ground, and have her way with him.
She stuck her foot out, trying desperately not to think about things that might encourage her wayward hormones. “Knee high, shiny blue patent leather combat boots, thank you very much. The blue makes all the difference.”
“I’ll take your word for it. It works for you.” His eyes narrowed as he looked her over. “You changed your hair.”
Her hand rose to touch her hair self-consciously, but she stopped herself and lifted her chin. “Yep, I did. A stylist has to update so her clients see her versatility.”
“It’s cute. I like the red.”
Her insides warmed at the compliment, and she stomped down those soft emotions. “Thanks. You seem to be changing your style too.”
Whether she meant growing his hair or halting his quest to get her to sleep with him, she wasn’t sure. As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, she’d missed his visits to her salon. When he wasn’t doggedly set on breaking down her defenses, he was an entertaining person to have around. She sighed. That seemed to be the biggest problem for her. When it came to Mason, she never knew if she was coming or going. Hell, she didn’t know if he was coming or going. What did he want from her? What did she want from him?
He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled head. “Yeah, well… Sometimes change is a good thing. Makes people see your versatility.”
And that was a direct hit. A chuckle bubbled out of her. “Right.”
Charming, funny, even occasionally sweet. Also a sarcastic, stubborn pain in the backside.
At first, she’d thought he’d pursued her seriously. She’d even once told Aubrey he was the marrying kind—and Celia had tried and failed at that twice now. But she’d heard him make disparaging remarks about matrimony. That, combined with his three short-lived engagements, told her he wasn’t planning to commit to anyone anytime soon. Which was just as well, since she wasn’t looking for that.
Then again, she wasn’t looking for anything. Not even a date, which was just one of the many reasons she’d continued to turn him down this past year. The three broken engagements under his belt didn’t speak well for how he handled relationships. She wasn’t one to judge, considering her failed marriages, but as far as she could tell his persistence was about a boy being denied the toy he wanted to play with.
She had to wonder if his fiancées had resisted him, too, and he’d grown bored when he got what he wanted. The thought made her stomach twist. It did nothing to make her think she should go out with him.
She’d stopped dating after her last divorce and had no interest in a real relationship. Not that she slept around, but she had a few guys in town who were available when she had an itch to scratch. It kept things simpler that way. They weren’t interested in more and neither was she. It was safer than trying to pretend this was going somewhere it wasn’t. Relationships tended to be a one-way freight train toward marriage, so why bother faking it?
No way in hell was she getting married again. Ever.
“Are you sure there’s nothing in here I can help you with?” His voice startled her out of her musings. “Everything already looks great.”
His gaze moved around the room, taking in the decorations, the empty buffet tables, and the fancy Victorian décor of the B&B. Then he looked her over just as thoroughly, and heat touched her everywhere his gaze went.
“Um…” She swallowed, scrambling to think of something non-pornographic that he could help her with. Chemistry was such a bitch. She gestured to the tables. “I’m guessing Tori wants those loaded up.”
“Tori?”
“Mrs. Chambers. She’s decided I can call her by her first name.”
“Huh.” He folded his arms, and his shirt molded to his heavy chest. “I didn’t even know she had a first name. I mean, obviously she has one, but I’ve never heard anybody use it.”
“Yeah, the first person I ever heard use it was Jerry.” She turned and headed toward the kitchen. The longer she stood staring at his flexing arms and feeling the magnetic pull he had on her, the more likely she was to do something stupid. Like offer to serve herself up as his personal naked buffet.
“Those two are quite the odd couple now, aren’t they?” Affection echoed in his voice, and Celia glanced back to see a grin crinkling the corners of his eyes.
Jesus, the man needed to be licensed, his smile was that lethal. She forced herself to face forward again before she ran into something. But the quiet fondness in his expression also said he cared about the older lady, and that was…nice.
She shook her head at that kind of thinking. She had to be brutally honest about why she didn’t want to go out with him, and it had little to do with her no-dating, no-relationship policy. The real problem had never been Mason, had it? No, the problem had always been that whenever Mason came near her, she started to dream of things that didn’t exist. He was rock-solid, the kind of guy everyone could count on. The whole town knew he was the heir apparent for when then fire chief retired in a few years. He was big, strong, good-looking, sexy as hell and a nice guy. He was perfect, a modern day Prince Charming. The type of man every woman wanted in her life and in her bed. Forever.
And forever wasn’t on Celia’s agenda. There was no such thing, at least not in her experience. So, she wasn’t going to pretend there was, and she didn’t want anything to do with a man who made her fantasize about it. That was just emotional suicide in the making, and she refused to go there. It wasn’t his fault, and she wished he’d taken no for an answer the first time he’d asked her out.
In the end, it didn’t matter if he was the marrying kind or if he just wanted to shag her brains out for a night. What mattered was that he made her want him to be the marrying kind, and that way lay disaster. She had the divorce papers to prove it. Two sets of them. She couldn’t risk letting him in, even for a night.
Most of the time, she’d just bang him and hope that got him out of her system, but the chemistry with Mason was way too explosive for that. Without even trying, he was dangerous. Nope. No way. No how. She wasn’t going there.
If there was one thing any idiot knew, it was that people who played with fire got burned.
“Price is the best brother anyone could ask for, and one of the best men I know. No one is more worthy of happiness than he is, and I couldn’t be happier for him.” For a moment, Mason almost looked like he was going to get choked up, but his hand tightened on his champagne flute and he flashed a brilliant smile. “And since Aubrey is as intelligent as she is gorgeous, she knows that even the best men appreciate what they have to work for, so she gave him a run for his money.” Anyone who had witnessed the couple’s tumultuous courtship knew that was the understatement of the century. Laughter rolled through the small gathering at the party, a few people letting out wolf whistles. “But in the end, I think they both got what they deserved. Each other. So, if you’ll all raise your glasses with me. To Price and Aubrey.”
“To Price and Aubrey,” the crowd echoed.
Even though marriage wasn’t Celia cup of tea, she couldn’t help the way her throat closed at the expression of open adoration on her best friend’s face. And Price looked no less besotted.
Jesus, she was going soft. She leaned her hip up against a nearby table, coughed and took a deep swig of the bubbly. The institution of marriage hadn’t done well by her, but for her friend’s sake, she hoped this one lasted. Then again, until Price, Aubrey had been as cynical about matrimony as Celia. A cheating ex tended to turn a girl bitter.
“Excuse me.” Mason appeared beside
her and offered that same over-bright smile, but it couldn’t hide the shadows in his eyes. The grin crumbled after a moment, and he scooped up the champagne bottle from the table beside her to refill his flute. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Mrs. Chambers and Jerry know how to throw a great party.”
Her eyebrows drew together as she watched his closed expression. An unexpected dart of concern went through her. Mason was usually the more easygoing and cheerful of the Delacroix brothers, so his seriousness at such a joyous occasion was more that a little strange. “You okay?”
“Great. I’m…great.”
“Great. Can I get another word?”
He huffed out a laugh and downed half his booze. “I’ll be fine. I’m happy for my brother, but these kinds of events aren’t really my thing.”
“I hear you.” She tapped his glass with hers, empathy twisting inside her. Yeah, she could see how three broken engagements would make this sort of party salt on the wound for him. She could relate—and sympathy for Mason was the last thing she’d expected tonight, which just made the Twilight Zone experience of being at a wedding reception that much freakier. “I usually avoid them like the plague. But for Aubrey…”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “For Price.”
He shifted where he stood, his arm brushing hers. It was like touching a live wire. Tingles skipped from her shoulder down to her fingers and up again, spreading throughout her body. Fire flowed in the wake of the tingles. It was ridiculous, the way this man got to her. Too bad he was too dangerous to play with. Clearing her throat, she looked away and made herself focus on something else.
“Everyone besides us is loving this though.” She looked around at the bright lights, the laughing people, the happy couple. Music played and couples danced. It was loud and boisterous and exactly what a party like this should be. Good for Aubrey and Price, bad for those who had nothing but ugly memories associated with marriage.
“Of course, they are. I know how to entertain.” Mrs. Chambers’s tart voice preceded her as she bustled up to the table to survey the spread of tasty food. She peered inside the champagne bottle. “Though I become far less entertaining when there’s nothing to help the guests loosen up.”
Make Me Believe: Unbelievable, Book 3 Page 1
