A band was set up in the middle of the school field, with various small stalls set up around them, and a small crowd bopping their heads and tapping their feet as they ate ice creams or drank beers while keeping a half eye on the wild children running around. The band, an eclectic mix of young and old, with a singer who couldn’t have been long out of elementary school, a slightly older punk kid on a saxophone, a middle-aged woman on guitar, and a graying man playing bass guitar, was playing a catchy and upbeat rhythm. They were the oddest group she had ever seen, and it made her giggle as the graying bass player pranced around as if he were twenty years younger. The music, however, was surprisingly good.
Mason leaned in and whispered in her ear. “That’s the local school band. Mrs. Burns, she was the music teacher when I was at school and she’s still there. Mr. Harrison, he’s the bass player, he’s the school principal. I’m pretty sure they like performing so much they only let a couple of kids join the band each year so they can still get their time on stage.” He chuckled.
She had only half a mind on what he said, and the other half was focusing on the tingle on her neck from the warmth of his breath.
“Have you eaten today?” He gestured towards the stalls. “They have some great food here.”
She looked dubiously at the stalls. “What kind of food do they have?” She wasn’t a huge fan of corn dogs or mini doughnuts.
“Oh, just you wait. I know exactly what you need to try. I hope you like seafood.” And he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the stalls, sidestepping around the many small children clutching ice cream cones and hot dogs. His hand was warm, and he held hers in a firm grip. Her heart quickened and the few steps they took felt like an age before he let go of her hand as he stopped in front of a small stall with a delicious garlicky smell wafting from it. There was a short queue of people in front of them and a small handwritten sign on a chalkboard announced Fresh Mussel Fritters. She could still feel his fingers entwined in hers.
“These are the best mussel fritters in the South Island—they’ve even won awards for them. We might be as far from the ocean as you can get in New Zealand, but she’s got to be the best seafood cook around.”
She focused on the small sign and nodded as he spoke. She couldn’t look him in the eyes and her hand felt too hot. It was nothing, she told herself, it meant nothing. But as she glanced up at him, she could see a flush on his cheeks too. He had put his hands in his pockets now and was also staring pointedly in any direction but at her. Maybe he was regretting it, she thought. Maybe he is feeling awkward because he can see me blushing, but he hadn’t meant anything by it and now I’ve made this whole thing awkward.
They passed the next minute in silence, she scrambling to think of something to say. Luckily there was a lot of noise around them.
“So, what is a mussel fritter?” she finally ventured, deciding that the embarrassment of not knowing what it was, was still less than the embarrassment of standing in such awkward silence after the brief hand-hold they had shared. Her heart was beating so loudly she wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it.
Stop being ridiculous, she told herself sternly. You are crushing on this farm boy like a teenager. Get a grip on yourself. It was simply a friendly gesture from Mason. Nothing more. She shouldn’t try to read things into it that weren’t there.
“Have you ever eaten fresh shellfish before?”
“I’ve eaten fresh oysters before, my boyfr—uh, my friend and I went to a seafood restaurant in New York. I wasn’t a huge fan.” For some reason she didn’t want to bring up James right now. A few more people in the queue in front of them stepped away, holding what looked like a green-tinged meat patty, still steaming, on top of a white napkin. It was very different from the upscale restaurant where she had tried those slimy oysters. And she’d never seen a green meat patty before.
“You’ll love these.”
Finally, they made it to the front of the line. “Two mussel fritters, please.”
A friendly-looking woman with deeply suntanned skin and equally as deep smile lines took the notes that he held out and deftly counted out his change. She turned to Alexis. “And who is this beautiful girl you’re with?”
She quickly shook her head. “Oh no, I’m just a neighbor that he’s showing around.”
The woman took her hand and gave it a firm shake. “He might be just showing you around now my dear but look out for the Quinn brothers. Many a woman around here has fallen for their charms.”
He chuckled back. “Don’t go getting any wild ideas, now. She’s Bert’s granddaughter, come to take over the sale of his farm.”
She bristled at this reference to the sale but tried not to show her annoyance.
“Well, lovely to meet you, dearie.” She handed them two mussel fritters on a napkin, the green tinge even more obvious up close. They were steaming hot and smelt deliciously of garlic. “You seem a lot nicer than that old codger. Hope to see you back here again.”
They walked away, and he dug into his fritter straight away, taking nearly half of it in one bite. “Mmmm, these are so good. Wish she brought out her stall more often, but with her husband having cancer she’s a bit strapped for time these days.”
Alexis put two and two together. “So, she used to babysit you all? That’s why Georgia was so upset when her cake didn’t work out.”
“Yeah, we’ve known her for forever. The plan was to bake a cake and raffle it off with a few other things to fundraise for his treatment. Not sure why Georgia volunteered when she is so terrible in the kitchen! Poor Mrs. Hetherington, she really has had a tough time of it the past couple of years.” He took another big bite of his fritter. “We really gotta go and buy some raffle tickets; gotta give them some support.”
He turned to her and noticed that her fritter sat untouched in her hands still. “You gonna eat it, city girl? Only I’ll totally have it if you’re not going to. But at least give it a try.” When Nate called her city girl it was an insult but coming from Mason it was almost flirty.
She turned to the green meat patty in her hand. It smelled great, but the color was definitely putting her off. She tentatively took a nibble. It was slightly chewier than a hamburger patty, but a similar consistency, with a garlicky, seafood taste. Surprisingly, it tasted much better than it looked. She chewed it slowly, then took another bigger bite. “This is actually pretty good.”
“Darn, I was hoping you didn’t like it. I’m pretty hungry. Could have taken it off your hands happily.” He was beaming though and looked pretty happy with himself.
They spent the next two hours wandering between the market stalls, watching the band, buying raffle tickets for the fundraiser and sampling various weird and wonderful traditional New Zealand foods. One of the stalls sold pulled pork on homemade buns. The men running the stall, two friendly and burly farm men, proudly declared all the pork was free range because they had hunted it themselves. “Took us all day to nail this one,” one of them declared proudly. “Can’t get more free range than this. It’s had more exercise over its life than I have, that’s for sure. Could barely keep up with the sod.”
All day, Alexis was struck by how friendly the town was. Everyone seemed to know Mason already and they all introduced themselves to her with smiles and jokes. Several of them outright asked whether she and Mason were a couple and grinned at her when Mason said he was still working on it. New Zealanders, she decided, were much more friendly than New Yorkers.
What was most astonishing was how they all accepted her presence straight away. Not one of them looked her up and down and asked why a city girl was here trying to pretend she was one of them.
Her time with Mason was fun too, their conversation flowing easily.
He didn’t take hold of her hand again though.
She tried hard not to be disappointed.
They left late in the afternoon, full of food, with Alexis holding the handmade cushion she had won in the raffle. The tickets had only been a few dollars
each and she had bought ten of them, thinking it was the least she could do to help the friendly woman who had made such delicious fritters. She wasn’t sure exactly how many Mason had bought but she had seen him hastily tuck what looked like a full raffle book into his back pocket when he thought she wasn’t looking. She had a sneaking suspicion that he had just bought several hundred dollars’ worth of tickets.
He dropped her to the front door of the Quinn family home right next to where she had parked her car earlier that day and hesitated before cutting the engine off. He slid the gear stick into neutral, and as he did his hand brushed against her leg, only very slightly, but it was enough to give her goosebumps.
“Thanks again for what you did today, with the cake,” he said, locking eyes with her. His eyes were a deep brown, and he had thick lashes that could have made any other man look feminine, but on him it only slightly softened his rugged exterior. “I know Georgie can be a bit hard to get on with sometimes, but I know she appreciated it.”
His gaze was fierce, and she could feel herself wanting to pull closer. But no, her heart had been broken once and she wasn’t going to let her stupid feelings get the better of her again. She mustn’t get attached to someone who only wanted her for her farm. And with a reputation in town for being a heartbreaker to boot.
No, she should stay well away from any of the Quinn brothers.
Even if he was sitting right in front of her, close enough that she could almost feel his breath, and his eyes were boring into hers.
She steeled herself and sat up straighter, and quickly opened her door and jumped out of his truck before her body could betray her. “Thanks for today, I had fun,” she chirped and ran to her car, turning the engine on and backing away as quickly as she dared without stalling.
As she drove down the driveway, she could see his outline as he sat in his car, not moving.
He was still there when she turned off the end of the driveway and down the winding road, where the tall trees lining the road eventually blocked his car from view.
Her house was cold and dark. She walked in and flicked on the lights, wishing that Mason was here with her. He would soon warm the place up.
She sat down in a kitchen chair. Why shouldn’t she invite him over? She wasn’t pining for James any more. Even if she was, what did it matter? James was out of her life. He had taken himself out of her life. It was high time she replaced the memories of him in her bed with new memories. And who better to make those memories with than Mason?
Before she lost her courage, she grabbed her phone and texted Mason. Want to come over tonight?
His reply came flatteringly quickly. I’m on my way.
She barely had time to second-guess her decision when she heard Mason’s car growl to a stop in front of her house, soon after followed by a loud knock on the door.
She opened it and let him in.
He’d changed since they came back from the fair, and his hair was damp around the edges.
She didn’t know what to say, and clearly, he didn’t either. They stood in the kitchen and looked at each other awkwardly for a moment.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “So, did you ask me over for a cup of coffee? Or to have a chat? Or…?” His voice trailed off into nothingness.
He was as unsure as she was, she realized. It would be up to her to make the first move. “I could make you coffee if you wanted,” she offered. “But I was thinking more along the lines of...of dessert.”
His eyes gleamed as he took in her meaning, and he moved towards her. “What kind of dessert is on offer?”
She closed the gap between them and tilted her head back to look at him. Her breasts were pressed against his chest. Judging by the baton poking against her stomach, he was no more interested in coffee than she was. He was seriously turned on. “What are you hungry for?” Her voice was a mere breath of sound, but it was enough.
He put his arms around her and clasped his hands around her buttocks, pulling her closer against him. “I think you know the answer to that.”
Their first, brief kiss had been gentle, the feeling of warm rain on a spring morning. This was fierce, hot, demanding. A forest fire of need. He wanted her, and he was not afraid to show it. Undeterred, she met him halfway, as eager for him as he was for her.
Just when she thought she was going to expire of heatstroke, he broke their kiss. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Heck, yes.”
“I was sure you had friend-zoned me,” he muttered, as she pulled him down the hallway and into the bedroom. “I knew you’d recently broken up with someone who meant a lot to you. I didn’t want to push your boundaries or hassle you. It was killing me.”
She didn’t want to think about James. Not now. Maybe not ever again. “So you let me push your boundaries instead?”
“My boundaries are flexible,” he muttered, as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. “Especially when it comes to you, city girl.”
The nickname didn’t bother her when Mason said it in that affectionate tone. She had better things to do than worry about a silly name anyway. She ran her hands appreciatively over his torso, glorying in each dip and hollow. It was just as hard and muscled as she thought it would be.
Then she moved her hands to the waistband of his jeans, unsnapped the dome and pushed them over his hips. “Going commando?” she teased, as his impressive erection came into sight.
He kicked his jeans off, standing before her naked and unashamed. “I’d just had a shower when your text came through. I got dressed again in a hurry.”
She ran her hand down the length of him and suppressed a giggle. Yep, his feet were definitely bigger than James’s.
He stilled her with a hand on top of hers. “Too much of that and this evening will be over before it’s begun. Besides, you’re overdressed.”
She gave him one last squeeze, reveling in the groan she elicited from him. “So, take care of that for me.”
“Challenge accepted.” He reached out and unsnapped her jeans, pushing them over her hips, while she pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it into a corner, and then just as quickly dispensed with her t-shirt as well.
He swallowed convulsively at the sight of her favorite set of pink and black lace bra and panties. “Wow,” was all he managed.
She kicked off her jeans and did a little pirouette. “Like them?” she asked with a grin. The push-up bra made the most of her assets, and the tiny g-string didn’t leave much to the imagination. She’d chosen them that morning to make herself feel good. It had proven to be a wise decision.
He took her in his arms. “I like them so much that I can’t wait to take them off you,” he growled, as he unhooked her bra.
His touch was everything she had ever fantasized about, and more. Gentle and caring, but with a well-deserved confidence that he could make her body purr with delight.
And purr she did.
Chapter Six
It was close to midnight before they settled down to sleep, exhausted. Alexis was just drifting off in a pleasurable haze when a sudden thought made her sit bolt upright in bed and shake Mason awake. “Oh, no, you can’t stay here tonight. What on earth will your family think?”
He groaned and turned over reluctantly to face her. “It’s none of their business.”
“It’s my business though. I don’t want everyone in the town to know that you stayed the night here.”
“Who would tell them?” His voice was genuinely confused. “And why would it matter anyway?”
She wasn’t sure herself why it mattered so much to her. Sure, they were both consenting adults, but this was a small town, and she was a visitor here and she simply didn’t want the entire place knowing about her love life. She’d been fine with James staying over in New York—the place was so big that it was perfectly anonymous. But here? The thought made skitters run down her spine. It just seemed so...so tawdry.
She got up and wrapped herself protectiv
ely in a robe. “It just does.”
He stumbled groggily to his feet and scrabbled around for his clothes. “Okay, I get it. I’m good enough for a bit of fun in the sack, but not good enough for you to be seen out in public with me.”
She heard the hurt in his voice. “That’s not it at all,” she protested weakly. Though, if she were honest with herself, she really didn’t want anyone knowing about them. “It’s nothing to do with you—” she began.
He cut her off. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you around.”
She lay in the dark, listening to the sound of his car driving back up the hill. She’d never intended to have a relationship with Mason. It had just sort of happened when she wasn’t looking.
She still wanted James, didn’t she? He’d just asked for them to take a break, not to break up forever.
Had she ruined everything that she could have with James in the future for the sake of a night with a farm boy?
Okay, so it had been a great night. The best night ever. But still...
Maybe she had jumped into bed with Mason too soon.
It was understandable, really. She was a long way from home, and she had been so sad and lonely when she first arrived, and he had been kind to her.
She needed to cool things off between her and Mason for a while. Get her thoughts in order. Work out what was really important to her.
Then, and only then, could she start to move on with her life.
She spent the following week working from dawn to dusk on the farm and avoiding any contact with Mason.
It was not difficult to do. He seemed to be avoiding her with equal determination.
Her phone was quiet. She didn’t meet his truck on the roadway and stop for a chat with their windows rolled down. There were no off-the-cuff invitations for dinner.
Head First (Quinn Brothers Book 1) Page 10
