Falling for the Fling

by Lili Valente

  Lark’s eyes go wide.

  “Too soon?” I ask, arching a brow. “Too scary?”

  “Maybe. A little,” she says, pulling her hand gently away. “Let’s take things slow for a while, okay? Just being with you, being happy together…it’s enough to process right now. You know?”

  I bite my lip. “Sorry.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry,”

  “No, I do. I don’t want to mess this up, and—”

  “Relax, Mason,” she says with a laugh. “There’s only one way you can mess this up, and we both know you’re not going to do anything like that again. Now hurry up and grab some eggs before they get cold.”

  “Nothing worse than cold eggs.”

  “Unless it’s cold grits. Better grab some of them, too, before they turn to concrete.”

  And just like that, our perfect morning is perfect once more.

  Because we’re Lark and Mason again, and Lark and Mason don’t let the little things get us down.

  Never have, and never will.

  We tuck into our breakfast with our usual abandon, then take a long walk around downtown, window-shopping and discussing how we want to spend the day. We decide to take the boat out again and head over to the state park with the island in the middle of the lake. It has hiking trails and picnic tables, and we can spend the entire afternoon outside enjoying the perfect weather.

  We stop inside the bookstore to pick out something for Lark to read, and then the sub shop to grab sandwiches, before heading over to my friend, Nash’s, house to fetch the boat.

  On the way to Nash’s, a plan begins to take shape in my conflict-avoidant brain…

  What better way to keep Aria off my case, than to give her someone more interesting than me to engage with?

  “Do you think it would be okay to invite Nash over for dinner tonight?” I ask Lark. “He seemed lonely the other day when I dropped off the boat. His girlfriend moved out not too long ago.”

  “Nash…” She chews on her lip for a minute. “Why is that name familiar? He isn’t one of your old basketball friends, is he?”

  “No, Nash and I worked construction together in the summers. I might have mentioned him.”

  “Maybe,” she says in a noncommittal tone.

  “He left Bliss River to go to the police academy in Atlanta and worked in a precinct there for a while, but he’s been back for a few years.” I turn onto Nash’s street, adding casually, “I think he’s around Aria’s age. Maybe a year or two older?”

  She hums beneath her breath. “Ahhh. I see.”

  “See what?”

  “Don’t play innocent,” she says, with a laugh. “I think it’s a great idea. Something to distract her from trying to prove our second chance is made of fail.”

  “She thinks our second chance is made of fail?” I ask, disappointed though I already knew Aria wasn’t a fan. “Complete fail?”

  She rests a hand on my shoulder. “Right now, she thinks all relationships are made of fail. She hasn’t looked sideways at a man in five months, and that’s got to be some kind of record for her. When we were younger, she was the social butterfly, not Melody or me. She had a different boyfriend every semester.” Lark laughs again. “It got to the point that there were so many I couldn’t keep their names straight. I just started calling every guy who called for her ‘dude’.”

  “Dude?”

  “Yeah, like, Aria, dude is on the phone!’” She shakes her head. “Only way I could keep from calling them by the wrong name.”

  “She and Nash should get along just fine, then. Back before this last girl, he was good at casual relationships. Maybe he and Aria can remind each other how to have fun again.”

  “Good. We’ll invite him,” she says. “But we won’t tell Aria. I think it’s better if it’s a surprise.”

  “That way she can’t yell at us until after it’s over?”

  “Absolutely,” Lark says with a wicked grin.

  “Maybe I like this devilish side of you, after all.”

  She giggles. “A little salt makes the caramel taste sweeter. That reminds me, there’s a new breakfast place near the highway that makes Dutch baby pancakes with caramel sauce on Saturdays. We should hit it up some weekend. But we’ll have to get there early. Otherwise, you end up waiting hours for a table.”

  “Sounds amazing,” I murmur.

  “Waiting hours for a table?”

  “Making plans for the future with you.”

  She sighs and relaxes back into her seat. “Yeah, that is pretty amazing.”

  It really is, I think, and getting better with every passing day.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lark

  The day grows hot, but not too hot, and Mason and I spend every minute of it outside, hiking, skipping rocks on the beach, and driving the boat around the lake until the sun begins to slide lower in the sky.

  By the time Mason drops me at my parents’ house to take a shower and runs back to his hotel to do the same, it’s nearly five o’clock. I’m sad to see him go, but less than forty minutes later, I hear a car pulling up to the curb out front.

  I push the curtains aside and peek out the second story window to see Mason emerging from the Audie, proving he’s every bit as eager to get back to me as I am to have him by my side. Grinning, I swing out of my room and race down the stairs in my bare feet. “It’s for me! I’ll get it,” I shout as I throw open the door, fighting the urge to leap into Mason’s arms and kiss him until we’re both breathless.

  He looks…gorgeous.

  His damp hair swoops low on his forehead, stopping just above magnetic blue eyes that practically beg me to drag him to my bedroom, lock the door, and show him just how happy I am to see him. His fitted jeans cling to his strong legs and his black button-down shirt, rolled up on his forearms, emphasizes the sexy scruff on his cheeks.

  He looks good enough to eat, good enough to devour inch by delicious inch. I don’t want to share this man. I want to be alone with him, now, preferably with both of us wearing as little clothing as possible.

  But that’s exactly why I planned this cookout.

  If I don’t surround myself with people, I’m not going to make it another day without pouncing on Mason like a she-cat after a man-sized hunk of catnip, and that doesn’t seem like the smartest idea four dates into our second chance.

  “Long time, no see,” Mason says, his grin as wide as mine.

  “You didn’t take the time to shave.” I lean against the doorframe and cross my arms, not missing the way Mason’s gaze flicks down to the cleavage displayed by my black baby doll dress and back up again.

  “I was in a hurry,” he says, stepping closer.

  “In a hurry for what?” I ask innocently. “Dinner isn’t being served until seven.”

  “In a hurry to get back to this woman I like a whole lot.” Mason reaches for me, pulling me out the door and into his arms. “She’s about your height and wearing this little black dress that I think might drive me crazy by the end of the night. Or ten minutes from now, I can’t be sure.”

  “Is that right?” I put my arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to whisper my next words inches from his lips. “And why’s that?”

  “Because she looks amazing, and I want to touch her so badly it’s probably criminal.”

  “You’re touching me right now.” I lean in, pressing my breasts against his chest.

  A pained expression flickers across his face, and I shiver.

  I understand that pain.

  I feel it all over, in every place that aches for him to touch me, taste me, slip his fingers between my legs and discover how much I want him. I’m so keyed up even a friendly hug on my parents’ front porch is enough to make my panties wet. I’m pretty sure I’m becoming what my Great Aunt Regina would call a “shameless hussy,” but Mason feels too good to care.

  “You’re killing me.” He shifts until my hips are fitted against his, and the hard ridge behind his fly confirms that I’
m not the only shameless hussy around these parts.

  “Killing you?’ I echo.

  “But what a way to go,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends tingles across my electrified skin. His hand skims down to cup my bottom, nudging me closer to the thick length I’m dying to feel inside me.

  “What’s the male version of a shameless hussy?” I ask, my breath coming faster. “A huss?

  Mason arches a brow. “A hoss?”

  “No, that’s like…a cool guy. In the seventies.”

  “A man whore?”

  I tilt my head back, bringing my lips closer to his as I whisper, “No. Hussies don’t get paid. They’re in it for the wicked, wonderful, shameless pleasure of it all.”

  His jaw tightens. “I’m definitely in it for all of those things. God, Lark, you feel so good. Just holding you is…” He trails off with a shudder that echoes through me. His fingers dig deeper into my bottom, making me wonder what it will feel like when he does that with nothing between us but skin.

  From there, my mind quickly spirals straight into the gutter and the last of my reason vanishes in a rush of desire. “Let’s get out of here.”

  He blinks. “We can’t… Can we?”

  “Sure we can,” I say, fisting my hands in his shirt. “We can go to my place. It’s close.”

  “What about the cookout?” But Mason is already backing away from the door, drawing me with him.

  “We’ll be fast,” I say, not caring that I’m barefoot or that I’m leaving without telling my sisters where I’m going, not caring about anything but getting closer to Mason. “We’ll be there and back before anyone—”

  “Lark! Mason!” calls a light voice from inside.

  A moment later Melody appears at the front door, her eyebrows shooting up when she sees us practically humping each other on the front porch. But she quickly recovers, playing it cool as she adds, “Um, hey you two! Sorry to bother you, but I think I messed something up.”

  “Messed what up?” I run a hand over my hair, fighting to breathe normally as Mason sets me back on my feet. I turn, blocking his body with my own, hopefully providing some cover for the hard-on situation. I’m sure Melody won’t be looking in that region, but Mason isn’t small and the strained front of his jeans would be hard to miss. Hopefully we can keep this short and sweet and Melody will head back into the house.

  “Am I supposed to bring the basting sauce to a boil and simmer it for a few minutes, or just bring it to a boil and then remove it from the heat?” she asks. “The notes on your old recipe card are smeared.”

  “Let it simmer,” I say with a nod.

  “How long?” Melody asks. “Because there isn’t a lot of excess liquid and I don’t want to run out of—”

  “Just put it on to simmer and I’ll be in in a second.” I widen my eyes at my sister in a silent plea for a moment of privacy.

  “Oh. Okay. I’ll go get the grill started then.” Melody backs away with a little wave. “Glad you’re here, Mason!”

  “Thanks, me too,” he calls after her.

  I turn to glance at him over my shoulder, biting my lip. “I think our escape has been thwarted.”

  “Probably for the best. Nash will be here soon.” He takes my hand and pulls me through the door, adding in a softer voice, “And I don’t want a quickie with you, Sunshine. Not the first time. I want all night, hours and hours to worship every inch of your beautiful body.”

  “Same,” I murmur before pressing my lips lightly to his.

  It’s just the ghost of a kiss—only a few seconds long and the barest nudge of my warm skin against his—but it’s enough to make me feel like someone set a swarm of bees loose in my belly. In seconds I’m buzzing all over, from the tips of my fingers to the soles of my feet and everywhere in between.

  God, this man just…does it for me. All of it. All the tingling and humming and aching and needing and wanting that I wasn’t sure I was capable of feeling again until he swept back into my life.

  “Knock, knock,” a deep, male voice rumbles from the open doorway. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

  Mason pulls away and turns to greet the other man with a smile. “Nash, hey man. Good to see you. This is Lark, hostess and the best cook in Georgia.”

  “Hey,” I say, laughing as I take Nash’s outstretched hand. “Not sure about ‘best,’ but top hundred at least. So glad you could make it.”

  “Thanks for inviting me.” Nash grips my hand firmly, but gently, as he smiles. It’s a wide, friendly smile that showcases very straight teeth set in an undeniably handsome face.

  As I take the bottle of wine Nash brought as dinner tribute and lead the way into the kitchen to open it, I give Mason’s friend a subtle once over.

  Nash is about Mason’s height, but thicker all over, with muscles that strain the sleeves of his tight, red t-shirt and jeans that were obviously purchased at some kind of specialty store for men with giant quadriceps and tiny waists. Mason is an athletic, muscular guy, but Nash has the body of a professional athlete. Between the killer physique, tan skin, white teeth, bright green eyes, boyishly short brown hair, and sweet, lazy drawl, Nash is any red-blooded woman’s dream come true.

  If Nash doesn’t remind Aria why she used to like spending time with boys, no man will.

  Yes, indeed, I think as I pour myself a glass of the Chardonnay Nash brought and get both of the boys set up with a beer. Aria is going to love this one.

  As if summoned by my thoughts, Aria appears in the doorway with Felicity balanced on her hip. She’s wearing a burnt orange sleeveless sundress that brings out the auburn in her hair. She’s actually wearing makeup, for once, and her chunky turquoise jewelry emphasizes her green eyes. Best of all, she’s smiling her big, bright, unguarded Aria smile down at Felicity.

  It’s a rare smile these days, but it reminds me of why, when I was growing up, I always wanted to look like my big sister. When Aria smiles she’s more than just pretty, she is break-your-heart stunning.

  There isn’t a man alive who can resist her.

  I peek over at Nash to see if his jaw has dropped, to find an unexpected frown pulling at his handsome face.

  “Hey, Lark, I turned on the bug lights, but I can’t reach the torches. Daddy put them up so—” Aria looks up, breaking off as her gaze skims over me and Mason to settle on the man beside us, her eyes widening with shock before her brows pull together in a frown that matches Nash’s to a T.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lark

  “What’s he doing here?” Aria’s voice is cold enough to make me wish I’d grabbed a light sweater before coming downstairs.

  Something is definitely wrong. Very wrong.

  My nerve endings are sending out red alert signals even before Nash drawls, “Nice to see you, too, Aria.”

  Mason and I exchange panicked glances behind his back.

  Aria and Nash know each other? How?

  Crap on a cracker, what have I done? My sister isn’t going to be distracted by a handsome single guy; she’s going to be livid with me for inviting someone she obviously can’t stand to a family barbeque.

  “Looks like motherhood’s been good to you,” Nash continues. “Pretty as ever.”

  Aria’s eyes narrow, but her lips stretch into a tight smile. “And it looks like you’re still a gym junkie. Still measuring your thighs every night before you go to bed?”

  Nash chuckles, a warm sound that fills the kitchen, banishing the prickle left behind by Aria’s words. “Nah, now I measure my biceps. It’s harder to get the tape around my arm with one hand and you know how we backwoods hicks love cheap entertainment.”

  Aria visibly bristles, like a hen ruffling her feathers.

  I jump in before my sister can lob another verbal hand grenade.

  “I invited Nash, Aria. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I say with an apologetic smile. “He’s an old friend of Mason’s and we thought we might need some help eating all the steak. You know it’s never as good the
next day.”

  “That’s all right.” Nash sets his beer on the counter, shooting me a warm smile that makes me want to beg his forgiveness for exposing him to my sister in her current, caustic state. “I can go. It’s no big—”

  “No, stay,” Aria says calmly, making Nash turn back to her with eyebrows raised. “I’m sorry I was rude. I was surprised, but that’s no excuse,” she continues, making my eyebrows shoot up right along with Nash’s.

  Who is this woman, and what has she done with my refuses-to-apologize-unless-she’s-caught-with-her-hand-in-the-cookie-jar-sister?

  “We’re not kids anymore,” Aria says as she shifts Felicity to her other hip. “There’s no reason we can’t all have a nice evening together. Especially since Daddy won’t be home until next week.”

  “Well, that’s good news,” Nash says, but he makes no move to reclaim his beer, obviously still on the fence about whether to stay or go.

  I honestly can’t say which I’d prefer. I don’t want to offend one of Mason’s friends, but I can’t deny I am dying to know what the backstory is between Aria and Nash.

  Why do they despise each other?

  And what the heck does Daddy have to do with it?

  “I honestly had no idea this was your house,” Nash says, a hint of embarrassment in his deep voice. “Mason didn’t mention his girlfriend’s name, just gave me the address and a time to show up.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Stay, eat with us,” Aria says in a breezy tone only a sister could tell is forced. “Come on into the backyard. You’re tall enough to light the Tiki Torches, and I’ll introduce you to Melody, my other little sister.”

  “All right.” Nash grabs his beer and slips by Aria, out into the backyard.

  Aria waits until he’s out of earshot before whispering through clenched teeth, “I’m going to kill you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper back. “I had no idea. I didn’t—”