by Dora Hiers
Nah. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to be close, so he sank down next to her, allowing a couple feet of clearance between them.
Goliath was sacked out in the corner of the family room. A fire glowed from the hearth, casting a soft light across Remi’s smooth face. The only sound in the big room was the dog’s snore and a clock ticking from the kitchen.
Mason sighed and sipped the warm liquid, contentment rippling through his chest. What a perfect way to end the evening.
Remi hadn’t touched her coffee. Her head dipped.
He put the cup down and angled toward her. Reaching out, he nudged her chin up with his thumb. “Remi? Would you rather I leave?”
A sheen glazed her emerald irises, showing off those amber specks. She shook her head. “No!”
“What’s wrong, then?” He toyed with the tips of her silky hair before hooking it back behind her ear.
A huge sigh erupted from her chest. “You’re so sweet, Mason. Even after I’ve been so…unwelcoming.”
“Sweetheart, you don’t need—”
She stilled his hand by bringing it to her cheek and cupping it with her own. “Yes, please. I need to explain.”
He nodded and waited for her to go on. When she released his hand, he draped his arm along the back of the couch.
“When I was ten, my father—” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat.
He stroked her hair. Everything in him prodded to tell her that it was all right. She didn’t need to explain. But the only way she’d heal was to talk about it.
“My father committed suicide. On Halloween night.”
Ouch! Today. How could he have forgotten the significance of the date from all the articles he’d scoured? No wonder her brother was so concerned tonight.
Mason blinked, but other than that, didn’t show any reaction or offer useless words. He just kept stroking her hair, letting her get out of her system words and emotions that hadn’t been resolved for more than a couple of decades.
“You might have heard of him?” Her gaze darted to his, tiny autumn specks of worry shimmering from her eyes now. “Connor Lambright? He was a pro golfer.”
How should he respond? He hadn’t heard of him until Charlie mentioned—
She didn’t wait for his response. “My mom had just filed for divorce. He was the golden boy of golf at the time, and it was unexpected. The newspaper reporters, the tv sportscasters, they all blasted my mother, citing the surprise divorce papers for his suicide. Well, the divorce might have been a surprise to them, but it wasn’t to our family.”
It was his turn to sigh. “I’m so sorry, Remi.”
She nodded. “Yeah. Me, too. Because I really like you.”
Hope blossomed, overflowed in his chest. He scooted closer.
“But it can’t go anywhere.”
Then withered just as quickly. “Remi—”
“Don’t you see, Mason?” She lifted her face, pleading with him to understand.
Wasn’t happening.
“You live, no, you thrive, in the media spotlight every day. As much as I might like the chance to get to know you better,” her eyes, although glittering with uncertainty, narrowed with determination, “to pursue what might be happening between us, there’s no way I could subject myself to that horrendous ordeal all over again.” Her head wobbled back and forth, her face growing more agitated with every warble.
“Oh, Remi.” He curled his arm around her shoulders and tugged her to his side. He held her, his chin resting on her head, until the tremors stopped racking her body and her breathing became even again. His lips whispered a kiss against her silky crown. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. About your dad. About the media attack. I’m sorry for the pain you still feel.”
He tugged her back so she could see the promise in his eyes. “I would never allow the media to hurt you like they did your mother.”
“But that’s just it, Mason.” Pain seeped into her voice, stiffened her spine. “It might have started with the media, but it didn’t stop there. We’d go into town and find people huddled together, whispering and pointing their fingers at my mom and us kids. The kids at school picked fights with my brothers...” Her lips clamped together, and her head and shoulders slumped. “Things got so bad that my mom finally moved us to the country.”
His anger escalated. So much pain directed at her family. He couldn’t do anything about the past, but he could certainly do damage control from here on out.
“If something happened to you…” Her voice tapered off, and her lips quivered.
All that she’d been through, and she was worried about him?
He cupped her cheeks and leaned toward her until only an inch separated their lips, the soft glow of the fire and the warm spicy tones of her perfume a tantalizing combination. “Remi…”
This time her face stretched to meet his, her lips red and full, begging to be kissed.
He took his time obliging, lingering, teasing, tasting the sweetness.
He pulled back and pressed his forehead against hers. “Remi, God decides when I go home to heaven. Whether that’s in a racecar or just sitting in my office chair, it’s up to Him.”
He heard her soft intake of breath, but he had to go on. “You don’t need to face this alone. God will walk this path with you, just like He does with me. He can take that fear and replace it with peace. This is your time to heal.”
****
“I have prayed for healing, for a relief from this dreadful fear. Not just of the media but going out in public. But God doesn’t seem to hear my prayers.” Her voice came out louder than she’d intended, but his words made her downright mad.
She’d prayed for healing to overcome her social anxiety. Many times. But it hadn’t gotten her anywhere. No. God had chosen to respond to her cries by sending Mason Mulrennan into her life.
A racecar driver. Not exactly the perfect recipe for healing. How could being under the media microscope be the answer to her prayer?
Mason must have noticed her throbbing vein. He caressed the stiffness around her neck. “He heard your prayers, sweetheart. I’m here.”
“So you’re saying you’re God’s answer to my prayers? How can a racecar driver possibly be the answer to heal a social phobic?”
“That’s not what I meant. I’m here with you. When was the last time you made a new friend?”
Ouch.
“Or allowed someone besides Jillian and your family to help you out here at the sanctuary?”
Double ouch. His words pinned her against the couch with laser precision.
“And you survived an invasion of about fifty people yesterday.”
She had, hadn’t she? A tiny seed of triumph sprouted in her belly. “Well, I hid most of the day.”
“But you didn’t bolt.”
“I thought about it, but there wasn’t a clear getaway. God would have had to part the Red Sea for me. Apparently, He didn’t see fit to make that happen.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “You are so refreshingly honest.”
She liked the hearty sound of his laughter, the little crinkle lines that shot out from his eyes, his relaxed posture. Mason Mulrennan was totally okay with his own skin, whether he was here at the sanctuary or standing in the winner’s circle with a microphone sticking in front of his face.
Maybe God had put him in her life so she could learn from him.
He rose onto those incredibly long legs of his and held out a hand. She took it, and he tugged her off the couch. And right into his chest.
“Come to the race, Remi.” Simple words that meant so much more coming from his husky voice.
“Mason, didn’t I just—”
He sheltered her in his embrace, tugging her so close that her words were muffled against his shirt. She breathed deep of citrus and spice, of fresh outdoors and fried chicken. He made saying no so hard.
“Mason, I can’t.”
“Maybe not yet. But I know you will.” His words rumbled against her h
ead where his cheek rested.
Did he? Because she sure couldn’t see it happening.
Not in her lifetime.
11
“Come on. No arguing. It’s time for you to relax.” Mason tugged Remi’s hand until she stood up. She’d been holed up in the house all afternoon, and now she sat hunched over the keyboard of her laptop. Invoices, checks and paperwork scattered across the kitchen table.
Since he’d arrived at the ranch this afternoon, she hadn’t made it outdoors one time. Too busy or was she avoiding him?
His lips quirked up on one side. That wasn’t happening. Not if he could help it. Especially since he’d rearranged his schedule so that he could fly out in the morning rather than tonight.
“Relax?” she muttered, sliding her warm hand from his grasp to stretch her arms above her head and then roll her shoulders. “Who has time to relax? I’ve got a ranch to run. Animals to feed and take care of.”
“Not tonight. You have the night off. The animals are all fed and tucked in for the evening.” He dangled the bursting-at-the-seams picnic hamper in front of her. “And you have to eat.”
Her eyes brightened, and she perked up. Now he knew what motivated her. Food.
“You did all that?”
He waggled his eyebrows. “The animals part. Not the picnic. I thought we could spend a quiet evening together. Just you and me.”
Goliath let out a single bark, loud and echoing through the tiny house.
Mason’s gaze shot to the Golden sitting on his haunches next to them. He rubbed the soft fur on Goliath’s head, trying to glare at him but not succeeding all that well. The dog couldn’t take a hint, and he surely wouldn’t stay behind. “Correction. You, me, and Goliath.”
Remi tossed that mane of silky dark hair back and laughed. She crouched and rubbed the canine’s ears. “That’s a good boy. You’ve trained your master well.”
She rose and lifted her pretty nose in the air. “Thank you, Mason. Actually, something to eat sounds awesome and it smells divine. What’s in there?”
“Dinner.”
She gave him a playful swat on his upper arm, and he felt the magnetism that constantly drew him to her all the way through his denim jacket. He grabbed her hand and took his time bringing her palm to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.
Amber specks burned like melted gold against the backdrop of her green eyes. She drew in a sharp breath. Her body stilled in anticipation.
He kissed the soft flesh on her palm and then guided her hand gently back to her side. This woman made his heart flap like crazy, but he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the tenuous thread that held them together.
“Ready?” Willing his primary organ back to a normal rate, he swept the air with his arm, inviting her to the front door.
She might have smelled crusty bread from the roast beef sandwiches, strong cheese, and oatmeal cookies with chocolate chips from the basket, but all he breathed in was her jasmine and spicy cinnamon scent as she passed by. That, and a slight whiff of chocolate and peanut butter from her latest candy binge.
In two long-legged steps, he beat her to the door and opened it with a flourish. “After you, milady.”
Smiling, she complied, and they stepped onto the porch. Brilliant white stars glittered across a not quite dark sky, the giant moon already hanging high and bright on the horizon.
Dinner under a star-studded sky with Remi. Was he sure he could handle this? No. Not at all. But he was going to give it his best shot.
****
The wonderful fragrance of a surprise dinner enticed Remi off the porch. She followed Mason’s boots closely, just like Goliath.
He was so sweet to feed and take care of the animals, but he hadn’t stopped there. Somehow he’d managed to scrounge up dinner for them, too.
When had he done that?
She ran a hand through her hair, flipping it away from her face. So absorbed in paying bills, she really wasn’t sure what time he had arrived at the ranch. Or even what time it was now.
Judging by the darkening sky, it had to be late. And it was…wasn’t it Thursday? He should be gone already!
She gasped and touched his forearm, feeling her pulse rocket at the muscles that bunched underneath her fingertips. “Mason, why are you still here?”
He grabbed her hand with his free one. “Worried about me?”
“Of course not.” Well, maybe just a little.
Llama heads popped up as they trekked across the yard and toward a grassy knoll. A couple hums sounded, but they were too far away that Mason didn’t even flinch.
“My flight isn’t until tomorrow.”
“So does that mean the race is later?”
“No. That means I rearranged my schedule so that I could spend more time with you.” He angled his gaze in her direction. In the waning light, she made out his boyish, hopeful expression.
He’d already given her the gift of time on so many occasions, and again tonight. Her heart soared with this tiny glimpse of his vulnerability.
But, what was she supposed to do with that?
12
“I told him no.” Heat blasted Remi’s face as she opened the oven door and slid the cake pans out. She placed the round pans on the counter and turned around, planting fists on her hips, the hot pads dangling from her fingers. She shot her best glare at her mother. “Whose side are you on anyway?”
“I’m not taking any sides, honey.” Lessa looked up from tossing the salad.
Jillian’s blonde eyebrows arched, but she kept silent. She poured iced tea into a glass then moved on to the next. Was that a smirk she was trying to hide?
Everyone was ganging up on her. Well, not quite everyone. Not yet, anyway. But Remi was sure that once Camdon and her stepfather Ryan came inside from checking and feeding the animals, they’d join in the fray.
“Well, it sure seems like you’re taking his side. You, too, Missy.” Remi narrowed her eyes at her friend.
“Wait a minute. I didn’t say a word.” Jillian held up her palms in surrender and blew her wispy bangs up with a puff.
“You didn’t have to. I saw that smile trying to creep out.” Remi folded her arms.
The front door opened, and Camdon and Ryan walked in. Both men glanced around the room.
“What’s got you all worked up, Remi?” Camdon’s hands connected with her waist to guide her away from the sink. He pumped soap into his hands then scrubbed them under the faucet while Ryan headed to the bathroom to wash up.
“Mom thinks I should have gone to the race this weekend with Mason. And Jillian’s siding with her.”
“From what I’ve seen and read about him, Mason seems like an honorable fellow.” Camdon reached around her for the towel and dried his hands. “I don’t think he would expect you to sleep with him if that’s what you’re worried about.”
She scoffed. “That’s the last thing I’m worried about. He’s been a perfect gentleman.” Too perfect. He was bound to have a dark side. Wasn’t he?
“Then why say no?” Lessa opened the fridge and pulled out bottles of salad dressing.
Remi took a giant gulp of precious air then let it out slowly. Focused her attention on stirring the stew simmering in the crock pot. “Because I couldn’t say yes.”
“What are we talking about?” Ryan joined them in the kitchen and planted a kiss on the top of Lessa’s head.
Lessa gazed up at Ryan, adoration softening her face. Years after the divorce, her mother had found peace and contentment with her high school sweetheart. Ryan had left right after graduation to pursue his dream of flying planes for the military. How different their lives might have been if Ryan had stayed.
Maybe then Remi wouldn’t fear people so much that she couldn’t even eat in a restaurant or break out in a cold sweat when someone walked toward her. Or panic when a kind and generous man set his heart on getting to know her. She set the wooden spoon down, closed her eyes and rubbed her face.
“Not what. Who.
Mason Mulrennan. The racecar driver.” Camdon rehung the towel.
At the mention of Mason’s name, Remi’s hand dropped away, and her eyelids bolted open.
“Ah.” Ryan nodded, but he still looked confused. “Why?”
“He invited Remi to the race. Actually, he’s invited her a few times now.” Jillian retrieved bowls and salad plates from the cabinet.
“Way to throw me under the bus, girlfriend.” Would sarcasm work with this crowd? Remi didn’t think so.
“Well, we can at least watch it on TV.” On the way to track down the remote, Ryan stopped to cradle Remi’s cheeks in his thick palms. He gave her a peck on the forehead. “If he’s the man for you, honey, eventually saying yes will become easier than saying no.”
Remi couldn’t stifle the sigh that leaked out. Was that why it had been so difficult? Why she felt so torn up inside about not going? Because saying no was becoming harder every day?
“He’s right, you know.”
Remi stared at her mother, saw the love and understanding on her face. The hope that Remi might finally conquer this battle.
The television flickered on, and Ryan flipped through the channels until he found the race. “Here it is. They haven’t started, yet.”
The camera panned the colorful cars lined up behind the pace car. Remi spotted Mason’s number. Her heart stuttered. Her jaw slacked.
The green flag waved, and the car engines roared as they accelerated. Jillian and Camdon stepped closer to the screen.
Not Remi. Her legs threatened to give out. She planted her hip against the kitchen island, covered her mouth with her hand. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the tingling, the playful teasing of his lips. Could still picture the tenderness of his smile, the tiny crinkles around those warm brown orbs.
She let out a long sigh and looked up, catching her mother’s concerned gaze.
Her mother curled an arm around Remi’s back. “Don’t give up on the power of love, honey.”
“Love?” Remi stuttered. Her palm flattened against her heart.
