This time, Skylar’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”
“With a name like Lemon, I have to be serious, or else no one would take me seriously.”
Skylar couldn’t possibly argue with that logic. “How do you know Mason would go for it? I mean, he’s not…he’s not easy to get along with.”
Lemon waved a hand in the air. “That’s not a problem if you know how to manage him.”
“Manage him?”
“Yes.” Lemon frowned. “Maybe managed is the wrong word. How about get close to him?”
“Oh, we’ve gotten close. So close he undid my bra without me knowing it,” Skylar confided, then wanted to smack her hand over her mouth.
Obviously impressed, Lemon said, “You might not need my help after all.”
“I’m not looking to start a relationship with him.” But she did want to help him. “But I am interested in—”
“Healing him?”
“I’m not a doctor.”
“I wasn’t talking about physically. Though sex would probably help both of you.”
“Sex?” Skylar squeaked. “I—are you serious?”
“We’ve already covered that,” Lemon replied. “Mason used to love eating crab and his favorite beer is Fat Tire. Wouldn’t you know that the Piggly Wiggly is having a sale on those two very things this weekend?”
She was so not going to the Piggly Wiggly to buy crabs and beer for him. No matter what, she would keep her dignity and forbid herself from turning up on his doorstep.
Lemon stood, her red hair gleaming in the sun. Her yellow and white eyelet sundress wasn’t even wrinkled. So unfair, Skylar thought. “I have to get back to work, but I’ll see you this Thursday.”
Did she really think Skylar would show up after all this?
Lemon’s gaze turned vulnerable. “That is, if you want to, and you haven’t decided that I’m some crazy woman with nothing to do but keep up on gossip and stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”
For some reason, Skylar’s heart went out to her. She gave Lemon a little smile. “I’ll be there.”
Lemon tossed her head, her expression changing so rapidly from vulnerable to triumphant that Skylar wondered if Lemon was a very accomplished actress. “Very nice talking to you, Skylar Jernigan.” Then she sashayed in the opposite direction.
A seagull landed in front of Skylar, catching her eye. One of its friends joined him, and then another one. Their beady eyes unnerved her. The trio hopped closer and closer.
“I’m going. I’m going.” She jumped to her feet and started for her car.
Chapter Six
‡
“I bought too many, so I thought I’d share the extras with you,” Skylar said. Her explanation sounded perfectly reasonable to her, even if her reason for being on Mason’s front porch was entirely unbelievable.
She had caved, faster than a sandcastle taking on high tide.
Mason stared at her as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what she was saying. “That’s a hell of a lot of crab for only being extra.”
“My eyes were bigger than my stomach.” She held out the large bag of crabs to him. “And I can’t resist a sale.”
He leaned against the doorframe, his light hair pulled back off his handsome face. She studied him for a minute, taking in his blue t-shirt and loose jeans. He was too skinny for the jeans, but the t-shirt stretched out rather nicely over his shoulders and the indentions on each side of his hips were not hard on the eyes at all.
“Anything else you can’t resist?” he asked and she jerked up her gaze, blushing hotly at being caught ogling him.
“Beer?” She held up the six-pack. “Fat Tire was on sale, too.”
He narrowed his sexy, blue eyes at her. “You’ve already eaten?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. I need to search for a recipe for the crabs I kept for myself. I’ve never cooked them before.” The crabs moved in the bag, and she almost dropped them. The cold had kept them immobile, but the longer she stood in the heat…the more awake they became.
Stepping to one side, he motioned for her to come inside. “Might as well eat with me. I already have a recipe,” he said as he closed the door behind her and started for the back of the house. Instead of using his cane, he limped as he walked and Bomber stayed at his side.
“I can just write it down,” she said, following him.
He tapped the side of his head. “Secret family recipe.”
She laughed. “But I’ll see what you use.”
“You won’t know the exact amounts and that’s important.”
Mason’s kitchen was huge, with stainless-steel appliances and more cabinets than anyone could ever need. In the center stood a large island with a prep sink and a butcher-block top.
“Really nice kitchen,” she said, admiring the wavy glass in the doors of the nearest cabinet.
“I like to cook.”
“You do?”
“I like to eat,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“Who doesn’t?” she replied.
“Lately, I haven’t.” He turned around and leaned against the counter. She set the bag of crabs in the sink and the beer on the island.
“Do your meds make your appetite go away?” They had for her dad, in those awful, final months. He’d practically wasted away to nothing. Maybe that was why she wanted to help Mason so badly. She didn’t want another person to just waste away, especially if she could help. Mason didn’t have cancer either.
He nodded stiffly. “You’re the first person to ask me that…besides my doctor.”
“The alcohol doesn’t help.” She wasn’t stupid. She’d seen the half-empty bottles and had smelled it on his breath. “It’s a good thing you exercise or you wouldn’t look like you do.”
She half expected him to take offense, but he only lifted a brow and said, “How do I look exactly?”
“Like a man who used to take care of his body.”
His lips thinned. “How is the air working in your house?”
“Like a freezer.”
“Good thing?”
“Very good thing. I actually wore pajamas to bed last night,” she said. “But I’m going to have to bring you a lot of noise-cancelling headphones in order to pay you back. They had to replace the entire thing.”
“What did you used to wear?” he asked with a grin that almost made her forget her own name.
He would focus on that. “Nothing. I mean…” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t try to change the subject. I will pay you back.”
“Crab and beer are a good start.” He pushed away from the front of the island and opened a deep drawer, pulling out a large pot and handing it to her. “Fill this halfway up with water and put it on the stove to boil. Gas burners okay for you?”
“Yes. I have one, too.” She took the pot and filled it, then set it on the stove and turned on the gas while he poured in a dash of vinegar and sprinkled in some spices. “What’s next?”
“We fix the sides—I’m thinking fries and hushpuppies.”
She glanced at the crabs and shivered. They were moving more vigorously now. “What about them?” She whispered the last word.
“We’ll get to them in a minute.” He nodded to the right. “There’s a bag of potatoes in the pantry. Get those out and we’ll make fries.”
Thankful for something else to do besides worry about the stupid crabs, she hopped right to it. “I guess this is as good of time as any to confess that I’ve never cooked live seafood before.”
“Figured as much.”
She glanced up into his blue eyes. “I can do whatever I need to in order to cook them.”
“I’ll take care of the crab.”
How could something so simple, and about cooking of all things, make her want to swoon?
He touched her face, starting at her cheek and ending up at her lips. His thumb brushed her mouth. The smell of liquor wafted over her. “You’ve been drinking.” So that explained his
easygoing mood. It wasn’t her presence. “Did you take your meds with it?”
“Always do before bed.”
She frowned. “That’s not safe, Mason.”
“You’re worried about me?”
Instead of answering, she nodded.
“Why?”
“Because we’re neigh—”
“Don’t.” His thumb made another pass, and she shivered again. This time in pleasure and not fear. His touch was making her weak in the knees. “The real reason, Skylar.”
“Because when I saw you on the ground, I thought that if anyone needed love, it was you.
“Not that I’m in love with you. I meant a neighborly type of love. Love for fellow man type of love,” she added. “What would Jesus do love.”
Mason stared at her, searching her pretty face. She seemed sincere enough, and despite what she assumed he’d been doing, he was stone-cold sober. The one shot of vodka he’d downed right before she knocked on his door wasn’t enough to do anything to his system. As for the meds…he hadn’t touched those after the first day, but he’d wanted to see her reaction.
“You really care, don’t you?”
“About people? Yes. I enjoy helping people.”
“I never liked people pleasers.” But he did like her. Despite his best judgment, he liked her a lot.
He let his thumb touch the corner of her mouth, and then her chin, before slowly gliding down her neck to touch that rapid pulse at the base. She was incredibly soft and warm. He wanted to sink into that warmth, fill his body and soul with it until the cold that lived within him faded away.
“Are you scared of me?”
She swallowed and her pulse kicked up. “No.”
“Do I make you nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Are you seeing someone?” He had no idea why he asked her that. It wasn’t his business, and it wasn’t like he could do something about it if she were.
But what if she wasn’t?
Don’t get your hopes up.
Gee, thanks.
Just keeping it real.
“Did your brother put you up to this?” Her pretty eyes clouded. “I told him I was seeing someone.”
That was enough to get him to stop touching her. “Did he ask you out?”
She nodded once. “I told him I was in a serious relationship.”
Well, shit. “Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah, he won’t bother you now. My brother doesn’t mess around with other men’s women.”
“What about you?”
“I don’t either.”
“No, I mean… are you seeing someone?” she asked.
I see you, he wanted to say. “No.”
A guilty look covered her face. “Can I tell you something, and you have to promise not to tell Tristan.”
This he had to know. “Promise.”
She tipped up her chin. “I lied. The only serious relationship I have is with chocolate.”
Damn if his mouth didn’t twitch at that. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I didn’t want you to think I was seeing someone else.”
“Are you playing hard to get? Tristan likes that sort of thing.” But he didn’t. He liked straightforward, honest women who knew what they wanted and told him so.
“I’m not interested in Tristan.”
“Who are you interested in, sweetheart?” Stupid, Mason. Incredibly stupid. Forget that you asked. Make something up. Tell her you’re drunk. But he did none of those things. He simply waited for her response.
The water on the stove boiled over and sizzled. She took a step back and busied herself with getting out the potatoes and washing them off in the other sink.
“How many should I cut up?”
Damn it. She would never answer him now. And why should she? He’d been nothing but a pain in the ass to her. “Four or five.”
Pushing the thought out of his mind, he got out the Fry Daddy and plugged it in, before cleaning the crabs and throwing them into the pot. Then he went to the fridge to get out the supplies he needed to make hushpuppies.
“You have your own deep fryer? How cool!” She raised the basket and carefully placed the thinly sliced potatoes in it before lowering it in the hot grease and shutting the lid. “I’ll get a plate and some paper towels. Salt and pepper okay for seasoning?”
He smiled as he watched her out of the corner of his eye, then began to mix up a quick hushpuppy batter. He liked seeing her in his kitchen. Hell, he was flat out enjoying her cooking with him. “Works for me.”
“You’re easy to please tonight.”
You have no idea. “Think so, huh?”
“Compared to the man I met a week ago…or even in passing when I first moved here six months ago, yes.” She bit her lip and concentrated on the fries.
“I took your advice,” he said, mixing the batter.
She paused for a moment, and then glanced at him. “And?”
“I want you to come with me sometime.”
“What did you do?”
Tapping the whisk on the bowl, he made his way to the stove. “Went out on my boat.” He began fishing the crabs out of the pot. “Swam a little. Bomber did some doggie paddling.”
A grin curved the corners of her lips. “How about next Saturday?”
“Maybe you should reserve your answer until after dinner. Who knows what mood I’ll be in by then?”
Her gaze caught his as she smiled. “I’ll take my chances.”
*
“Mind if we sit outside?” he asked once everything was ready. “The porch is screened in on the back, so no worry of mosquitos.”
She nodded, sending dark, glossy strands sliding along her jaw. “Sounds like a plan. You go sit and I’ll bring everything out.”
“Skylar.”
“What?” She hefted the platter of crabs. “Oh, this. Don’t worry about it. I used to wait tables in college.”
He took the platter from her. “I’m not worried, and my arms aren’t broken.”
“I didn’t say they were, but the longer you stand, the whiter the skin around your mouth gets.”
“While I appreciate the observation, I can—”
“Great. Then I’ll take the beer, hushpuppies and fries. You grab the plates and napkins,” she interrupted.
“Told you my good mood wouldn’t last,” he said as they stepped out onto the porch.
“Told you I’d take my chances.”
“Bossy.”
“Bossier.” Suddenly, she gasped. “This is beautiful, Mason. I’ve never seen your porch with all the fairy lights on. It’s like I’m in an enchanted forest.”
“It’s ambient lighting,” he grumbled as he set the platter of crab, napkins, and plates on the table.
“What about all the plants and flowers?”
“I’m doing my part to go green.”
After she set down the rest of the bowls, she immediately began to study the hundreds of lights twining around the posts and beams in the ceiling. If anyone was fairy-like, it was her. She flat-out enchanted him, and it was damn unnerving.
“Where did you get them?” she asked, craning her neck as she looked around the room. He couldn’t take his eyes off her face, her smile, and absolute wonder.
“Jessamine General Store.”
“I’m totally going there next month.”
“Can we eat this month, or even better—how about right now?”
“But I can’t look away from the lights,” she said with a laugh. “I’m like a bug going to my death.”
“That’s better than comparing it to fairy lights.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think. The crabs will come back to life if we don’t eat them.”
“Coming,” she sang out.
Holding out her chair, he patiently waited for her to sit down before joining her. Bomber exhaled and settled down beside him.
She held out her bottle of beer. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
For long minutes, they simply ate, drank, and listened to the frogs and crickets singing. Every so often, a fish would jump and hit the water with a splash.
“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten crab this good,” Skylar said.
“Did you grow up near here?”
“No.” She took another drink of beer and set the bottle down, playing with the label. “We moved around a lot when I as little—my dad followed the circus and fairs.”
“You lived with the circus?”
She laughed, and he almost smiled at the sound of it. “No. We followed them. He worked the rides…but my mom told fortunes on the side.” Her laughter faded. “She didn’t stick around very long.”
“That had to be tough.”
“It wasn’t easy, but my dad and I did what we had to.” She glanced away, seemingly uneasy to talk any more about her past.
“Until I joined the military, I never lived anywhere but here,” he offered.
“Joining the Navy is an extreme way to see the world.”
He placed his elbows on the table, something that at his parents’ house would have gotten him a lecture growing up. “I wanted to do something different. Tristan and I had always played soldiers growing up.”
“Why didn’t Tristan join the Navy like you?”
“No idea, he just always had it in his head that he would be a Marine when he grew up. Got out earlier than I did and went back to college. He’s working on his master’s now, but they let him have the job at the library anyway—not that he doesn’t deserve the job.” He grimaced. “I think he gets as excited about books as you did about my lights.”
“You should see me when a new packet of sheet music comes in,” she said with a wink. “Is there anything that gets you excited?” She scooted closer to him, and he leaned back in his seat, not because he was trying to get away from her, but because he wanted her much closer.
Like in his lap.
“At times,” he admitted.
“Will you go out on your boat again before our, uh…date?”
He sliced his gaze to her.
She blushed. “I mean—”
“I plan to go again tomorrow.”
“Find your passion again, huh? I might be only a music teacher but I know a thing or two,” she said.
Love So Irresistible Page 6