by Lauren Canan
“We did. Heather and I named him Benjamin, after my father.” He took out his phone and showed her a picture of his son.
“He’s precious.”
“We think so, too. Thanks.”
“So you and Mason are gonna work together on the fund-raiser.” Risk shifted his glance from her to his brother, a twinkle in his eye. Was he trying to cause trouble, or just being Risk? She didn’t know how much his family knew about her history with Mason. True, it was old news. But not for her.
“That’s the plan,” Mason said, eyeballing her. “After the game tonight, I’d like to talk to you about it.”
“We don’t usually finish up too late,” her father interjected. “It’s a workday for everyone tomorrow.”
“Okay, fine.” She’d just have to put on her big girl panties. She couldn’t postpone it any longer. She’d gotten herself into this and she had a job to do.
Mason gave her a nod and they all sat down at the dining room table. As she chewed her pizza and drank iced tea, every so often she’d steal a glance Mason’s way, and each time, his coal-black eyes were on her, as if she was the only person in the room. He made her jumpy. She didn’t like it one bit, and she fought the feeling.
But there’d always been something between her and Mason. Well, maybe it was all one-sided. At age seventeen her feelings had started out as hero worship for a guy six years older than her and had grown from there. Until he’d shot her down and humiliated her.
After dinner, the men got serious about poker, and Drea busied herself cleaning the kitchen, collecting and trashing pizza boxes and setting the coffeemaker timer to brew a dark rich roast in two hours. The guys had brought beer, something Drea knew her father had insisted upon. He wasn’t going to spoil their night because he had a drinking problem. A tall glass of iced tea sat in front of her dad and he seemed fine with it.
Three years clean and sober.
God, she hoped the worst was behind him now. But there was always doubt in her mind, and maybe her father was trying to make a point by showing her he was a changed man.
During the game, she disappeared into her room and flipped open her laptop. She stared at the screensaver, a golden Hawaiian sunrise, wishing she could jump right into the picture.
But no, that wasn’t going to ever happen. Was that kind of serenity even real?
She clicked open her spreadsheet and calendar and got busy working on items for the fund-raiser. There were dozens of moving parts for the big push and she was beginning to make headway.
After twenty minutes or so, she was totally engrossed in her work. A knock at her door broke her concentration and she jumped.
It wasn’t her father’s light rapping. No, she knew who it was. Ugh. She got up and yanked open the door, ready to face Mason.
Immediately the woodsy scent of his cologne wafted to her as she looked into his dark eyes. It was hard to miss the broad expanse of his chest as he braced his arms against her doorjamb, making her feel slightly trapped. “Hi,” he said.
She’d expected him to be demanding, to insist they get to work, to pressure her. But that one word, spoken softly, surprised her and her defenses went up. “Mason.”
“I, uh, I know it’s late, but we should probably talk. If that’s okay with you?”
It wasn’t late. It was barely nine thirty. On really busy days, she’d often work until midnight. But things in Boone Springs were different than the big city. The pace was slower, the nights shorter, and the mornings came earlier. “It’s fine.”
“It’s a nice night. Why don’t you grab a jacket and meet me out back?”
She blinked. She didn’t want to be alone with Mason on a moonlit night, but she wasn’t about to show fear.
“Your dad’s probably tired. I wouldn’t want to keep him up with our chatter,” he explained.
“Right,” she said. “Give me a minute and I’ll meet you outside.”
Mason nodded and took his leave.
Drea shut the door and leaned against it, her pulse pounding in her ears.
Memories flashed through her mind, but she halted them in their tracks. She had a job to do. She was vying for a vice president position at Solutions Inc. A lot was riding on her communication and marketing skills with this fund-raiser.
And she couldn’t allow Mason Boone to get in her way.
* * *
The screen door opened and Drea stepped outside. Mason shot up from his seat the second he glimpsed her. Her boots clicked on the deck as she approached. She was wearing jeans and a pretty pink blouse underneath a black leather jacket. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, with a few wavy strands falling loose, caressing her cheeks. She looked soft and pretty, so different than the uptight, buttoned-to-the-neck woman he’d met in the committee room yesterday.
Years ago, he’d been attracted to her for a short time, until rational sense had kicked in and he’d backed off from the hell storm it would create. At seventeen, Andrea MacDonald had looked at him with adoring eyes and his ego had taken flight. But she was Drew’s daughter, a mixed-up girl yearning for affection. Affection that couldn’t come from Mason. He’d been twenty-three, six years older than her, and supposedly wiser. He would’ve only screwed her up more.
Now, he wanted to tell her she had nothing to fear from him, that he was dead inside and had been for a couple years, ever since Larissa died. But that was assuming too much. Maybe her coolness wasn’t necessarily aimed at him. Maybe she’d changed from that sweet, caring, innocent girl she’d been to someone he didn’t know, didn’t recognize. Lord knew, he’d changed over the years as well, and he was simply here to work alongside her. The past was the past and maybe it was better to let it alone.
“Brought you some coffee,” he said, grabbing for the cup on the wicker table beside him.
She smiled, apparently surprised at the gesture. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t know how you like it.”
“Black is fine.”
He handed it to her, their fingers brushing in the transfer, and he gazed into her pretty eyes. She lowered her lids and looked away. Those sage-green eyes were the same as Drew’s, and her long, lustrous dark hair and olive skin were all her mother, Maria. Drea was a striking mix of Irish and Latina.
“You want to have a seat?” He gestured toward the bench he’d been sitting on. He could feel her reluctance, sensing she’d rather have a root canal than sit with him, but she finally perched on one end. He sat as far away from her as possible, which was all of twenty-four inches, if that.
“So, you still resent all the Boones?” he asked on impulse. The question had been bugging him since he’d laid eyes on her yesterday.
Her head snapped up and coffee sloshed in her cup. Luckily, it didn’t spill onto her hand. He would’ve never forgiven himself for that.
“Some more than others.” Her eyes narrowed on him and suddenly she wasn’t looking quite so pretty anymore.
“We tried to help your father, Drea. He was in desperate need and—”
“I know the story your family tells. I don’t need to hear it from you.”
“Maybe you do. Maybe that’s the only way this is going to work between me and you.”
“So, I’m supposed to forget all about the fact that when my father came to yours, asking for help with Thundering Hills, asking for a loan to tide us over for a few months, he was flat-out refused. Our families had been friends for years. And then, the next thing I know our land was bought out from under us and all we got were crumbs. Dad had to swallow his pride and take a job on Rising Springs. I had to move off our land to come live in this little cottage. We lost everything.”
“That’s not the way it happened, Drea.”
“That’s the way I see it, Mason. Total betrayal.”
“Your dad...”
“What? What about my dad? He took to drinking
heavily after mom died and...he’s never been the same.”
Mason didn’t have the heart to tell Drea the truth. If Drew hadn’t after all these years, then it wasn’t his place to tell her that her little girl’s perception of what happened had been all wrong. Drew had made Mason’s father promise not to reveal details of the deal. Since both of Mason’s folks were gone now, victims of a small plane crash years ago, he felt it was up to him to see that vow was upheld. If Drew wasn’t willing to set his daughter straight, Mason surely wasn’t going to do it.
“Drew’s doing real good now.” It was all he would say on the matter.
“So everyone in Boone Springs is telling me.”
Mason didn’t understand her. He was just barely coming out of his own grief, and related to how Drew MacDonald had been in the same situation, losing his wife the way he had, so unexpectedly. Mason hadn’t taken to drinking the way Drew had, but everyone coped with heartache differently. He wasn’t excusing Drew’s bad behavior, but he knew what the man had been feeling.
Mason shook his head. “Aren’t you glad he’s getting better?”
“Of course I am. If it’s the real thing this time.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I’ve been disappointed before.”
Mason ran his hand down his face. “I know it wasn’t easy on you, Drea.”
She shook her head, and he took in how her long hair flowed in natural waves down her back. “You know nothing about me, Mason.”
He met her sad green eyes and something shifted in his heart. She tried to talk tough, but she wore her pain on her sleeve and her vulnerability grabbed him. “I know more than you think.”
“That’s a Boone for you, claiming to know every—”
He pressed two fingers to her lips, quieting her tirade. “Shh, Drea.”
Her eyes snapped to his.
He couldn’t believe he’d done it, touched her this way. But grazing her soft lips, looking into those defiant eyes was like a live wire sparking and jolting inside the dead parts of him. He felt alive for the first time in years. It was heady and he wanted more. He wanted to hold on to that spark that told him he was a living, breathing man.
Sliding his fingers off her mouth, he cradled her face, his thumb circling her cheek, strands of her hair caressing the back of his hand.
“Mason, are you crazy?” she whispered, yet the look in her eyes told him she was thinking something different.
“Maybe.”
“You’re not going to—”
“Yes, I think I am.”
He put his mouth to hers and tasted her sweetness, the plump ripe lips that were meant to be kissed. Sensation flooded him. He remembered her. As a teen. A girl who’d needed affection, and he’d given it to her without question, until the night that she’d bared her soul to him and offered her body.
He’d had to turn her away.
Any decent man would have.
But she wasn’t a kid anymore. And it was good, so damn good that instant guilt flooded him. His heart belonged to another and always would. That jolt of life he felt worried him and scared him silly. It was as if he was losing his wife all over again. He hadn’t done anything this impulsive in years, much less with Drea, the very last woman on earth he should be kissing.
Copyright © 2019 by Charlene Swink
ISBN-13: 9781488046537
Marriage at Any Price
Copyright © 2019 by Sarah Cannon
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