“You do, too!” She dropped back into her seat.
“Hey, Flanagan,” Cade greeted her. “We were just taking a poll to see who had a French maid costume.”
“I’ve got one you can borrow,” Seren assured him as she placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Can I borrow it while you’re wearing it?” Cade cocked his face in her direction.
“That depends on how many drinks you buy me.”
Cade pulled some money from his pocket and tossed it on the bar in front of Mason. “Get her whatever she wants.”
Mason gazed at Seren as he waited for her to order.
“What’s good?” she asked me.
“Everything Mason makes is good. You want to try a Pear Martini?”
“That works,” she agreed and looked back down at Mason. He nodded to her, picked up Cade’s money, and went to make the drink.
“So when did you get in town?” I asked.
“Today.”
“It’s been forever since I’ve seen you in person.”
“I know, and now here we both are, back in the big city of Creekview.”
Mason set her drink down in front of her, and she immediately took a sip. “That is good.” She clasped my hand. “Too bad you’re working. I wish you could have a drink with me.”
“I’m off tomorrow. If you don’t have anything planned, we could get together.”
She frowned. “I’m tied up with family stuff for a few days, but I promise I’ll call you after that.”
“Maybe we could all go out together.” Seren motioned in a circle that encompassed Mason, me, her, Cade, and Hawk.”
“That would be fun, wouldn’t it?” I turned to Mason, hoping he agreed.
“Absolutely. We should do that.” While his answer was pleasant enough, he seemed a little less enthusiastic than usual.
“I’m in,” Cade agreed. He turned to Hawk. “How ‘bout you?”
He sighed dramatically. “Somebody’s got to make sure y’all don’t get arrested.”
“That’s the spirit.” Cade slapped him on the back.
***
At the end of the shift, Mason drove us home. We’d begun riding to work together more and more frequently, and I enjoyed our conversation in the car. But he was quiet tonight.
I sat at the kitchen bar, watching him as he made kamikazes. He pushed the drink across the bar until it stopped in front of me.
I took a sip. “Whoa!”
“Yeah, they’re pretty strong.”
He took a long gulp of his while I took another tiny sip.
“You’re never going to get drunk at that rate.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No, but how am I going to find out what you want me to do when you’re drunk if I can’t get you drunk?”
“What makes you think I wouldn’t want you to do the same thing when I’m sober?”
That got his attention. He was propped against the counter in front of me, his angular jawline shadowed by whiskers, his eyes partially hooded as he studied me. My breath caught in my throat at his intense perusal. I had the urge to slip my fingers into his hair as it brushed against his shoulders, to pull him to me. But we were separated by the bar, and I was frozen in my chair.
He downed the rest of his drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. The empty glass clinked against the granite as he set it down.
“You drink too much,” I whispered.
“I drink because I have no reason not to.” He poured himself another one and downed it. “You going to drink with me?”
I took another sip, and he laughed.
“Yep. You’ll definitely be the only bartender I know who’s never gotten drunk.”
And it was true. I had never gotten drunk. I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to get drunk. When I was out with my friends in college, I was usually the designated driver or the only one who was responsible enough to make sure everyone got home in one piece. I stared at the barely-touched kamikaze in front of me. He already thought I was a prude. I picked the drink up and mimicking Mason, I downed it.
I don’t know how much longer we went on like that, talking and drinking. I couldn’t remember how many drinks I’d had, but I was pretty sure Mason wasn’t filling my glass nearly as full as his own. It didn’t take much more until I was feeling the effects. I said something incredibly silly and giggled like a twelve-year-old.
“You’ve had enough,” Mason said from his stool beside me. He picked up my glass and finished it for me.
“And you haven’t?”
“Yes,” he agreed, “I probably have.”
I smelled alcohol, although I couldn’t be sure whether I smelled it on me, him, or both of us. “Now you can’t accuse me of never being drunk.” I straightened up on my stool. “I hope I don’t get sick and puke.”
“You haven’t drunk that much,” he whispered as he stared into his glass and swirled his drink. He turned to look at me. “You’re a little tipsy, but you shouldn’t get sick.”
“That’s good to know.” I giggled, though I had no idea what was so funny about that.
“You should probably go to bed,” he said softly.
“Don’t you want to know?”
“Want to know what?”
I reached out and rubbed my fingertips along his jawline. “Don’t you want to know what I’d want you to do to me if I were drunk?”
He captured my wrist in his long fingers and brought the fingertip of my index finger to his lips. Placing his lips around it, he gently sucked it, his warm, wet tongue gliding over it. “Hell, yeah, I want to know, which is exactly why you should go to bed.”
I leaned into him, pressing my shoulder against his arm to steady me. “I want you to kiss me,” I whispered. “I want to feel your….”
“Shh.” He released my wrist. “Let’s not talk about it tonight, love.”
“But….”
“You can tell me tomorrow.” He stood and pulled me to my feet.
I stood, slightly swaying, my feelings hurt. “Okay,” I agreed, suddenly wanting to retreat to my room. I turned and headed toward the hall.
“Lexi?”
I stopped and glanced over my shoulder, my hand groping for the wall to steady myself.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Mason.”
***
A loud noise yanked me from sleep. My heart thudded as I tried to orient myself to the room. I could tell it was still dark outside, so I couldn’t have been asleep long, maybe a couple of hours.
“Dammit!” I heard Mason’s muffled curse.
Springing from the bed and realizing all too late that it probably wasn’t a good idea, I stumbled to the door and opened it. Mason’s door was slightly ajar, dim light spilling from the vertical slit. I crossed the hall, groping for the wall in case my footsteps faltered.
He sat at the edge of the bed in his boxers, his head in his hands.
I watched him through the crack, but he said nothing further. The reek of alcohol was strong, and I wondered how long he’d stayed up drinking after I went to bed.
His door creaked as I pushed it open wider, but he didn’t look up.
“Mason?”
He lifted his head and tried to focus with bloodshot eyes. “What can I do for you, love?”
“Is everything okay?”
He grunted, his lips curving into a sad smile. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” he muttered, his words slurred. “Between my mother and her….”
I stepped into his room. A small broken picture frame lay across the room, a scuff mark marring the beige wall where he had thrown it. I gingerly walked over and picked it up, careful not to step on glass with my bare feet. The photo was of a young blonde in her twenties, a little boy and girl on either side of her. “Is this your mother?” I hadn’t seen this photo the last time I was in his room. And I had no idea to which other female he referred.
Instead of responding, he clutched his head and let out a fru
strated groan.
I crossed the room, bringing the photo with me, and knelt at his feet. “Mason?”
“I’m drunk, Lexi. You should leave.”
Unsure what to do, I watched him a moment more, but he never looked up. The whole time I had known Mason he was quick to smile, always in a pleasant mood. It was difficult to watch him flounder in pain, especially when I didn’t know how to help him.
Rising to my feet, I straightened his pillows. Maybe if I could get him to sleep, he would be back to himself in the morning.
I patted his pillow. “Why don’t you lie down?”
“I can’t sleep. I got all this shit in my head, eating at me. I need another drink.”
“That’s the last thing you need,” I said softly, kneeling at his feet. “Look at me.”
When he made no effort, I gently pulled his hands away from his face and cupped his cheeks in my palms. “Just lie down. Everything will be much better in the morning.”
“I can’t sleep.”
“You don’t have to sleep. Come on. I’ll lie down with you.”
I coaxed him to stretch out, his tall frame covering one side of the bed. I crawled onto the mattress and leaned over him. “Isn’t that better?”
“Lay down with me.”
“Okay.” I stretched out on the pillow beside him.
“Come over here.” He motioned to me with his hand.
I sat back up. “What?”
“I want you to lay down with me.”
He stretched his arm across the pillow and motioned for me to lie next to him. Not sure if he knew what he was saying but wanting to keep him calm, I laid my head on his arm and stretched out beside him, leaving a modicum of space between us.
His arm wrapped around my shoulders and pulled me over next to him. His shoulder was warm beneath my cheek, and I maneuvered onto my side, wondering where to lay my arm. He grabbed my wrist with his free hand and pulled my arm across his torso.
I could hear my heart beating in my ears, and I wondered if he heard it, too. His muscles were sleek and hard, and I exhaled a shattered breath.
He squeezed me to him, his hand resting at my waist. “You’re the first girl I’ve had in bed that I didn’t want to have sex with.”
“Thanks?”
“I mean…I want to have sex with you, but not like this. Not when we’ve both been drinking. You’re the kind of girl who deserves romance and flowers and all that kind of shit.”
He blew out a breath, and I could tell he was trying to eliminate whatever poison had distressed him. He was beginning to quieten, and I imagined the alcohol was probably pulling him into a deep sleep. “I spend a lot of time listening to people’s stories, Lex, but I have no one to listen to mine,” he said quietly.
His chest rose and fell, and I traced his tattoos with my fingertips. “I’ll listen, Mason.” I didn’t know what he was keeping pent up inside of him, but it was causing him to self-destruct in kamikaze fashion.
But instead of telling me his story, he replied with soft, even breathing.
Chapter 7
Kiss Me
Lexi
I woke up to my butt firmly snuggled against Mason in an air-tight spooning session in which I didn’t recall participating. His arm was wrapped around my waist, his fingers tucked between me and the mattress.
A shot of adrenaline rushed through my system, making me wide-eyed and a bit nervous. I was no virgin, but it’d been a while since I’d been with anyone other than my last boyfriend. And being this close to Mason put a little extra zing in the lower half of my body.
He was just so…male. As if to prove my point, he stirred in his sleep, and I felt his erection press against my bottom.
I held my breath, waiting for him to still.
His even breathing confirmed that he was asleep. I gingerly attempted to move his arm. Just when I was making progress, he stirred again and tightened his grip. As I lay there wondering how I was going to get out of this predicament without embarrassing myself, I couldn’t help but notice that I actually liked this feeling. Mason definitely drank too much, but he had a lot of personable qualities that made him endearing.
Was it crazy that I liked the security I felt in his arms?
But he’d been drunk last night. I wasn’t even sure if he would remember what had happened, how I had wound up in his bed.
I knew Mason didn’t generally have lasting relationships with women, and as much as I was attracted to him, I had no intention of getting mixed up with someone who wasn’t serious about me.
I needed to get out of here before he woke up. Once again, I tried to maneuver his arm. This time I was more successful, and once I’d raised it enough, I twisted out of his grasp, nearly rolling into the floor in my haste.
As soon as I was on my feet, I rushed from the room, moving silently across the carpet.
Eager to wash off the smell of last night’s alcohol, I stripped and stepped into a steaming hot shower. After washing with scented body wash, I took the time to shave. Being that close to a man had suddenly made smooth legs a top priority.
Unable to shake the feeling of being in his arms, I started focusing on it instead. I was fooling myself if I didn’t admit that I liked it. In fact, knowing how much I liked it worried me.
I hadn’t come to Spanky’s Bar to get entangled with a bartender.
And Mason had been right.
I was the kind of girl who deserved romance and flowers. In fact, I required it. I’d never been involved in flings, and I certainly didn’t plan on starting now, no matter how attracted I was to Mason.
I dressed, dried and straightened my hair, and carefully applied makeup. As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I wondered what I should do now. My tightly strung nerves wouldn’t let me forget that I had woken up in Mason’s arms.
Needing to busy myself, I decided to take a walk.
I circled the perimeter of the apartment complex and moseyed over to the pool. Now that it was the middle of June, a few early-bird sunbathers and swimmers dotted the fenced-in area. Many of them were teenagers, out of school for the summer. The sight brought back fond memories of my own teenage years. The community pool was where I’d met many of my new friends after I’d moved away from Creekview. It had made starting a new school less awkward, which had not only relieved me but had relieved my parents, also.
I found a seat near the diving board. Shielding my eyes from the rising sun, I watched as a boy back-flipped off the board and landed with a major belly buster. He surfaced, unperturbed, hurried up the ladder, and rushed back to the diving board, trying his best not to break the rules by running.
His eagerness made me smile as I remembered how magical summers were in my youth. He dared his friend to do a back flip, but in the end, his friend decided on a cannonball, and a few splashes of water actually hit my legs.
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed my mother. I hadn’t talked to my parents in a few days, and I’d missed a call from my mother the night before.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Lexi, I tried to call you. Dad wanted to check on you since we hadn’t heard from you lately. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I’ve just been busy working. Guess who came to see me?”
“Who?”
“Seren.”
“How’s she doing? Her parents okay?”
“She didn’t really mention them, but she’s doing fine. We’re supposed to get together in a few days and hang out.”
“So is Creekview everything you remembered it to be?”
“Yeah, it is, actually. It’s easy to see why Papaw wanted to come back here. Everything’s slower paced than it is in the city. It has a more intimate feel, you know?”
“I remember. Maybe after you get settled, Dad and I will come down for a visit. I think it’ll help him not to worry so much.”
“Dad does realize I’m in my twenties, right?”
“And what difference do you think that makes? You’re his only chi
ld, and even if you weren’t, he’d still worry about you—no matter how old you are.”
“Tell Dad I love him and not to worry. I’m perfectly fine.”
“I’ll tell him.”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
“And I love you. Take care of yourself, and come home for a visit soon.”
I watched the boys take turns jumping off the diving board a few more minutes before I finally headed back to the apartment.
Mason lay on the couch, wearing only his jeans, one hand splayed across his face as his thumb and fingers clutched his temples.
When he heard the front door close, he raked his fingers through his damp hair, his muscles rippling below his skin with the movement. “I’s gonna cook you breakfast, and then I realized I had one hell of a hangover. Take a rain check?” A dimpled smile spread across his face.
I had thought this moment, the moment that I first saw him after waking with his warm body covering me like an electric blanket, would be awkward. But it wasn’t. One smile from him made everything so comfortable, so normal.
“Sure.” I walked to the kitchen, fixed him a glass of ice water, and brought it to him. “Here. It will help hydrate you.”
He pulled himself into a seated position and took the glass. After taking a sip, he said, “Thanks. My friends usually just let me suffer.”
“I have a one-time rule. I’ll help someone with a hangover one time. After that, if you’re stupid enough to get drunk again, then you have to fend for yourself.”
He chuckled. “Ouch.”
“Hey, it’s one more time than my mother would give you. She warned me during my teenage years that if I ever came home drunk, she’d make me even more miserable than my hangover ever could.”
“Funny how different mothers are, isn’t it? My mother used to encourage me to drink beer. Said it would make me a man.”
I gasped. “How old were you?”
“I think she started when I was twelve.” He shot me a sad smile. “It was all good until she got drunk and realized that every beer I drank was one less for her.”
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