by Parker, Ali
“Whoa!” she called out.
“Where are you going?”
“To the kitchen. I don’t want to get toast crumbs in your bed,” she reasoned.
I laughed. “Baby, you can eat toast in my bed anytime.”
She giggled. “I think the phrase is crackers in my bed, but I get it. I’d prefer a table or at least the counter if that’s okay with you. Besides, it’s so dark in there.”
I didn’t tell her it was purposely dark in there because I never got out of bed before ten on most days. I didn’t want her to think I was a relative of Dracula.
“That’s perfect. I love that shirt on you,” I told her, eyeing her shapely legs and since I’d shredded her panties, she couldn’t have any under it. I could see she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Thank you. It seemed a bit more practical than my dress.”
We sat down at my dining table, something I think I’d only done maybe once before since I’d lived in the place. I got a second plate and scraped some of the eggs onto it. We sipped our coffee and ate our breakfast at a leisurely pace. It was strange to be doing something so normal, so adultlike and so very unlike my typical day.
“You’ll stay with me today?” I phrased it as a question, but it was really more of a request.
She shrugged a shoulder. “I suppose I could. Will your mom be stopping by? I’d really hate for her to pop in with me wearing nothing but your shirt.”
I grinned enjoying the fact she couldn’t be wearing any. She was naked under the shirt. “I’ll text her and let her know I’m otherwise occupied.”
“No!” she shrieked. “Then she’ll think we’re having sex all day.”
I shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t care, and I really do like the sound of that.”
“No, don’t tell her that.”
“Fine. I’ll tell her I have company, is that better?”
She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t know. Maybe I should go home and get a change of clothes.”
“Adelaide, it’s fine. She doesn’t need to come over. I’m a grown man. I don’t care if my mother knows I had a sleepover or if she knows you’re here,” I told her.
“I know you don’t care, but I don’t want her thinking I’m some floozy. I don’t think she’s all that fond of me as it is,” she mumbled.
I got up, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before taking my plate to the sink. I grabbed my phone and quickly sent my mom a text. Then I pulled up the number for the massage therapist I used the other day at the encouragement of my mom. It had actually been a really good idea and it had helped my poor, injured muscles.
When I walked back into the kitchen, Adelaide was at the sink, loading the dishwasher. “What are you doing?”
“It’s called the dishes. Us folks from the lower ranks of society do this fairly often,” she teased.
I rolled my eyes. “I mean, why are you doing my dishes?”
“Because I ate breakfast here and it isn’t difficult,” she replied, not looking at me as she grabbed the sponge from the back of the sink and wiped down the counters.
It was the sexiest thing I’d seen, and I had watched a lot of porn. The shirt hiked up a little inch, giving me a peek of her glorious ass. I watched her, thinking about taking her right there on the counter, but could admit the logistics and my injury would make that a little difficult. I’d shelve that idea for later. I was most definitely going to fuck her on my counter one of these days.
“I have a little surprise for you,” I said.
She stopped what she was doing and looked directly at my crotch. “That’s not so little.”
I grinned. “No, it’s not, but that’s not what I was referring to. I have a massage therapist coming in about an hour.”
“Oh, good. That will definitely help with your sore muscles and don’t say they aren’t sore, because I can see it in the way you move,” she lectured and for a very brief second, she sounded just like my mother.
“It’s a couple’s massage. She’s bringing a friend,” I said with a smile.
“What? No! I wouldn’t know what to do!”
I laughed. “You don’t do anything. You lie on a table and enjoy yourself.”
“Mason, I’ve never had a massage.”
I didn’t like that. I hated that she’d never been treated to a massage or a spa day. In the world I grew up in, women had spa days at least once a month. Some of the more pampered women would have weekly spa visits.
“I’m happy to be here for your first. You’ll like it and I want to do something nice for you. I need a massage and it would be impolite for me to get one alone,” I reasoned, hoping to appeal to her good manners.
“Should I get dressed? I mean, what do I wear?” she mumbled, chewing on her lower lip.
I walked to her, putting my hands on her hips and pulling her close. “Nothing, baby. Not a damn thing. You wear a towel.”
“Naked? That’s weird.” She hissed.
“It’s not weird. You will feel so good afterward. You stand on your feet all day and work long hours, six days a week. This massage will change your life. Trust me, you’re going to be hooked,” I assured her.
“Well, gee, when you put it like that, how could I say no?” She giggled.
“You can’t. There is something I was wondering if you could help me out with before they get here,” I said.
She reached between my legs, cupping me in her hand. “I don’t know if we have the time, but I guess we could make it a quickie.”
I sucked in a breath through my clenched teeth. “While that sounds like a very good idea and I would like to take you up on that very appealing offer very soon, I wasn’t referring to that.”
“Oh. What do you need?” she asked, dropping her hand from my crotch.
I held up my bandaged arm. “Can you help me with this?”
“Yes. Absolutely. What do you need me to do?” she asked eagerly.
I smiled, appreciating her enthusiasm. “I need to put on fresh ointment and a clean bandage. I can put on the ointment, but it’s not so easy to wrap it up.”
“I’ll do it. Where’s the bandages and stuff?” she asked, getting very serious.
“Bathroom,” I said, walking toward my bedroom.
She followed me in. I showed her the bandages and ointment I had been given. She nodded, picking everything up and ordering me to take a seat in the bedroom. I sat down and could hear her washing her hands. She was taking her nursing duties seriously.
“Okay, is this going to hurt when I take it off?” she asked, picking up the scissors.
I shrugged a shoulder. “Not much. It’s supposed to be nonstick bandages.”
She nodded, carefully cutting the bandage. I watched her face as she very gently stripped away the bandages. Her brow furrowed as she pulled off the numerous gauze pads. I watched the look of sympathy and concern play across her face as she surveyed the damage.
“Damn, this has to hurt,” she whispered.
“A little. Not so much anymore.”
She made a tsk sound with her tongue as she inspected the arm. Watching her made me feel funny. My mom had been taking care of the bandage changes and I had never got the warm and fuzzy feeling I got with Adelaide’s gentle touch. She was very efficient as she spread the ointment with a light touch before carefully putting on the gauze pads over the worst of the injury and then slowly wrapping it with clean gauze. She was an excellent nurse, I decided.
“There, all good. It seems to be healing well,” she said.
I heard a knock on the door and knew our massage therapists had arrived. “Ready?”
“I hope so. You’re going to be in the same room with me?”
“Yes, I will be right beside you.”
I stood up from the chair and gave her a kiss. I had a warm sensation in my stomach. It was a strange, but good feeling.
Chapter 40
Adelaide
I felt completely relaxed, like I had been on vacation for a week. I was almos
t dreading going back to work tomorrow. I let out a long sigh as I stared out over the water, the sun going down and bathing the city in a beautiful orange-and-pink combination. Mason had been an absolute gentleman all day. It was strange to see this side of the man. That tough exterior was still there, but it was softened by his kind words and gestures.
“Here you go,” he said, handing me a glass of wine.
I looked up and smiled. “Thank you.”
He was wearing a pair of basketball shorts and nothing else. I was finally getting used to seeing his bare chest. It was like staring at a scrumptious piece of cake all day and not gorging myself on it. We’d had a few little quickies here and there throughout the day, but mostly, we did nothing. We got our massages, which was absolutely amazing, and then he ordered in lunch followed by dinner.
He sat in the lounge chair beside me. I turned my head to look at his profile. He caught me looking and gave me a sexy smile. “Wanna come over here and have a seat?” he asked.
I laughed. “No, thank you. You are insatiable.”
“Your body is hard not to want,” he replied.
I looked down at my bare legs. I was wearing another one of his shirts. I felt completely sloth-like. I had done nothing all day long except be pampered and have sex. I hadn’t even gotten dressed. I had stepped into a fantasy world. It wasn’t a world I lived in and I was simply visiting. It had been nice, but it was way out of my league.
“Thanks,” I said, looking back toward the skyline.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I smiled, shaking my head slowly. “Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect. I feel kind of like an interloper into this world you live. I don’t belong.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I don’t deserve all of this luxury. This is so over-the-top. I can’t imagine living like this,” I said with a wistful sigh.
It was nice and a break from my normally scheduled life, but the truth of the matter was, I didn’t know if I wanted to live in this world. It was a nice escape, but I would grow very bored. I turned to look at him again and had a new understanding for the man. He’d grown bored and chosen to rebel against everything he’d known growing up. His walk on the wild side was an attempt to get away from the confines of a wealthy lifestyle.
“You, out of anyone I have ever met, absolutely deserve this. You work your ass off day in and day out. You need a chance to turn off and enjoy life. You deserve to be spoiled, pampered, and given a chance to just be,” he insisted.
“That’s very sweet, but I live in a world where this is a fantasy. I work six days a week because I have to in order to keep the lights on and a roof over my head. I can’t shut off and spend a day doing absolutely nothing,” I explained, not wanting sympathy, but wanting him to understand why I was always so serious.
“You need an investor,” he replied easily.
I guffawed. “Oh yes, that’s what I need. I’m sure there are hundreds of people lining up for the chance to give my struggling, nearly bankrupt coffee shop money.”
“I am. Let me help.”
My mouth fell open as I shook my head. “No way. Nope, not even going to get into that very messy situation.”
“How is it messy? I invest in a lot of different things. Usually it’s my money guy making the investments, but I can make my own decisions,” he reasoned.
“Mason, no thank you. It’s a nice offer, but I don’t want to get money mixed into this,” I said, gesturing between him and myself.
“This?” he asked, one dark eyebrow raised.
“Yes, you know what I mean. We’re friends or whatever,” I said, not sure what to label our so-called friendship.
“You work with Deanna,” he pointed out.
My immediate response was I wasn’t falling in love with Deanna. I managed to keep that from slipping out. “I’m not sleeping with Deanna,” I said instead.
He laughed, clearly not put off by the idea of mixing business with pleasure. “That’s good to know. I want to help. I have the means to help. You know I have a pile of money and you always said I did nothing with it. Let me do this.”
I groaned. “Mason, can we agree to bring up nothing that was said prior to that first night we shared together? We both said some pretty harsh things and had some opinions about each other that may have been misguided. We’re beyond that, right?”
He sat up in his chair, turning to face me. “We are way beyond that. I will never look at you like the stone-faced ice queen again.”
“I thought I was a princess?” I retorted.
He grinned, shrugging a shoulder. “I called you princess because you always acted like royalty. At least, I felt like I was unworthy of being in your presence back then. Things are different, for both of us.”
I sat up and faced him, our knees brushing against each other. “Thank you for your offer, but I cannot accept.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Mason,” I said his name, but had nothing else to offer in the way of an argument.
“Adelaide,” he teased.
“It’s not a good idea. I didn’t sleep with you because I was interested in your money.”
“I know that.”
“But that’s what people will think,” I pointed out.
He shook his head. “I don’t give a fuck about what people think. You have got to stop worrying about what other people think about you and what you do with your life. You do you and let everyone else worry about shit that is none of their business.” He growled.
I put my head back, glancing up at the sky before looking at him again. “Mason, I wish I were like you. I wish I could disregard everyone else. I can’t. I do worry about what people will say. I don’t want your family to think they were right about me.”
“Right about you?” he questioned.
“Yes, that I’m only with you for your money. I take pride in doing for myself. I am independent and I don’t like to rely on anyone,” I told him.
He reached out and grabbed my hand. “Listen, this has nothing to do with us sleeping together. I like your shop. I think it has a lot of potential. Your customers like your coffee and I like that you only serve the best. You have good business practices. I know I don’t seem like the business type and most people don’t think I can add two plus two, but I did learn a little something growing up in the Bancroft household. My dad was always talking business and then Grayson and my dad were always talking about it. I want to invest in something I believe in, something I think is worth investing in. Your shop needs a break and I can give it.”
His offer was hard to pass up. My coffee shop was going to sink if I didn’t get an influx of cash. “I don’t know.”
“Adelaide, tell me something, how is the shop doing?” he asked with concern.
I scowled at him. “Why do you ask?”
“I heard what you told Dalton that night and Deanna told me you were struggling. I see how hard you work. You shouldn’t have to work that hard to keep the doors open. I want to help. Think of it as me being selfish if that makes you feel better.”
“What? How are you being selfish?”
He grinned. “Because I want you all to myself. I want to be able to spend more time with you. I want to be able to sleep past six with you in my arms. If I invest, you can hire a couple extra staff and work less.”
I stared into his eyes and saw the sincerity. He was dangling a giant carrot in front of me and it was hard to refuse. He was saying all the right things. Hiring another full-time employee would be nice. I would appreciate being able to take a step back from the grueling twelve-hour days. I wanted the coffee shop to be successful not just for my sake, but for my father’s. It was supposed to be his legacy.
“Can I think about it?” I asked softly.
He nodded. “Of course. Take all the time you need. Don’t overthink it. I would never let business interfere with my pleasure and you are definitely my pleasure.”
“What if—” My stomach was in knots over
the idea we would be through in a couple weeks and I would still have to see him regularly because he was an investor.
“Don’t,” he said, reaching up to cup my cheek in his hand. “Don’t think like that.”
I nodded, wanting to believe this was my way out from under the doom hanging over the coffee shop. I had so many feelings swishing around in my brain, I couldn’t quite sort it all out. I wasn’t the type of woman to fall head over heels in love with a man on a first date, but Mason was different. He was strong and challenged me in every way. I shouldn’t be drawn to that, but I was. I liked that he was my equal, yet stronger and could take care of me.
I had always taken care of myself, at least after my father died, I had. It was exhausting to always be strong and independent. I wasn’t a woman’s libber, but I was also not a simpering woman who needed a man, but I could certainly get used to sharing my life with someone. Celebrating the good days and having someone to lean on during the bad days. I wanted to be that someone for him. I knew he was strong but seeing him in that hospital bed had shown me he could also be in need at times.
I felt like we were a good balance for each other. Together, we would be unstoppable. My pride was holding me back. I didn’t want to need him. I didn’t want to lean on anyone. I wanted to prove to myself and the world I was a powerful woman, capable of doing great things without anyone helping me.
It was arrogant and foolish, and I knew I was only making things harder on myself. Accepting help now and again was the sign of a truly strong person. That’s what my dad always said. It was a lot easier said than done. I didn’t want to show any signs of weakness, and in my eyes, asking for help or accepting help was definitely a weakness.
“You okay in there?” he asked in a gentle tone.
I closed my eyes, shaking off the downer thoughts and smiled. “I’m good, I’m just thinking things over. I’ll think about your offer. No matter what, thank you. It’s very kind and generous.”
He shook his head. “I’m not being kind or generous. This is about business. Your coffee shop is a good business decision. I’m not giving you a handout or anything like that. That’s what you need to understand. I would be an investor.”
