by Seton, Cora
Then there was his question. What did she think about them making a child together? When they got married.
Not if. When.
The thought made her hot.
A child with Mason. A child with this man who was turning out to be everything she’d ever wanted. She kept thinking that she’d blink and find herself out of this fairy-tale and back into everyday life.
So she chuckled when they re-entered the house and climbed the stairs to the dilapidated second story bathroom. How much more real could life get? The tiles were cracked or missing. The sink was caked with dirt. There was no shower curtain, but Mason fetched a scrub brush and a can of powdered cleanser and attacked the claw-foot tub until it was spotless while Regan watched, once more astonishing her.
“Learned that in the military,” he said briefly when she raised an eyebrow. “Impressed?”
“Extremely.” She’d never watched a man clean a tub before.
He drew a bath and they both climbed in, taking up positions at opposite ends. The hot water made Regan feel boneless and she lay back against the curved sides of the tub, watching Mason watch her back.
“Like what you see?” he finally asked, tugging on her ankle.
“I do. A lot.”
“Good. I like what I see, too.” He caressed her foot, massaging her instep, and Regan closed her eyes. She luxuriated in the hot water and the feel of his fingers squeezing and kneading first one foot and then the other. Even his fingers were strong, she thought, as well-being spread through her. “Don’t fall asleep,” Mason cautioned her with another tug.
“I’m going to, if nothing exciting happens,” she murmured. She opened her eyes when Mason found her hand and tugged her forward. She grumbled, but allowed him to pull her until she floated above him. He turned her over and tugged her down until she lay atop him, her seat pressed into his lap.
He was hard again. Noticeably so. As Regan wriggled against him, she came fully awake. Mason drew her down until she lay back against his chest, then soaped up his hands and ran them over the length of her body. The combination of the hot water, Mason’s muscled form beneath her and his slick hands running up and down over her skin set Regan on a slow burn all over again. He caressed her breasts, squeezing and kneading and teasing her nipples into hard peaks. In turn, Regan shifted against his hardness, until the hitch in his breath told her he wanted more.
She wanted more, too. They played until both of them could hardly hold back, then there was an awkward moment while Mason sheathed himself, both of them needing to get to their knees in the tub for him to be able to perform the maneuver, after grabbing yet another condom from the jeans he’d ditched on the bathroom floor. Regan thought about teasing him for his forethought, but suddenly Mason was beneath her again, his hardness prodding her. Opening her. And she was far too thankful to tease him.
This new position made for a whole new series of sensations and soon Regan was arched back against Mason’s chest as his hands molded and kneaded her breasts and his thrusts set her body alight. When he gripped her hips and pulled her down against him, he entered her so fully she shattered with an intensity that had her crying out his name. Mason came with her, his movements pushing her to higher heights and when their passion ran its course, Regan could hardly breathe for wanting him more.
Mason circled his arms around her, and she knew what he wanted to say. That she had to stay with him. That he wouldn’t let her go. That was fine with her, she thought as her heart rate slowed.
She never wanted to leave.
* * *
When it was time for dinner, Mason drove Regan back into town to DelMonaco’s. They stopped at a store on the way and picked up pads of lined paper and pens in order to come up with a new plan of attack, as Mason called it. He brought along the timeline he’d already constructed to use as a guide, but told her what they’d found at the ranch had made it obsolete.
“Think of this as your last supper,” he told her after the hostess led them to their table and took their drink order. “Because from here on in it’s going to be work, work and more work.” He looked away as the truth of that statement hit him.
“What’s wrong?”
“I meant to bring you to the ranch and sweep you off your feet. But now—” He shrugged. Maybe he’d bitten off more than he could chew. It would take all his time and attention to have a shot at fixing everything Zeke had broken, even with help from friends and neighbors. What would he have left over to give to Regan?
“You already swept me off my feet.” She must have kicked her shoes off under the table because her toes were caressing his shin through his jeans. Mason smiled in spite of the seriousness of the situation they found themselves in. “We’ll do it together. What better way to get to know each other than by going through a crisis together, right?”
His heart warmed at the way her eyes shone. He knew exactly how she felt. As grave as things were at the ranch, her presence here made it hard to feel fear. Surely there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do with her looking on. Still, Regan had never been on a ranch before—she didn’t know what they faced.
What would his father have done in a similar situation? Would he have shipped his mother off to her relatives while he got to work?
His lips quirked at the thought of that scenario. His mother would have given him hell if he’d tried such a thing. She was small and slight, but she was a firecracker, too. She could work like a demon and still laugh and tease her husband enough to make him drop his tools and tackle her. She would never consent to be sent away when times got tough.
What about Regan, though?
“What do we do first?” She waited for his answer, interest dancing in her hazel eyes. Her auburn hair curled around her pretty face and fell in waves over her shoulders. He wanted to run his fingers through it, pull her close and kiss her again. Her enthusiasm made his heart lift. He wouldn’t send her away. As long as she wanted to be part of the renovation, he’d welcome her with open arms. He just hoped she knew what she was getting into.
Together, they constructed lists of the chores they’d need to accomplish before they brought cattle and horses to the ranch, and Mason was pleasantly surprised by Regan’s quick understanding and helpful suggestions. She may not know ranching, but she had common sense, and that counted for a lot. As they worked he found his thoughts growing graver again, though. The task ahead of them was just about impossible to achieve in the short time they had. He wasn’t a quitter any more than his father had been, but this was more than an uphill climb—it would be like scaling a cliff.
“Mason Hall? Is that you?”
Mason looked up to see their waitress at the end of the table. She was young and blond with her hair pulled back into a high pony-tail.
“Sarah-Jane?” Mason blinked. “Well, I’ll be…”
“I’m surprised you recognize me,” she said with a laugh. “I was only ten or eleven when you left town.” She turned to Regan. “I don’t think we’ve met before, though.” She extended a hand.
Regan shook it. “I’m Regan Anderson. This is my first time in Chance Creek.”
“You’ll love it here,” Sarah-Jane said confidently. She turned back to Mason. “Are your brothers back?”
“Not yet, but they will be. We’re the advance guard—just arrived today. We plan to fix up the Hall so it’s ready for them to come home to.”
“Sounds great. Let me know if I can be any help.” Sarah-Jane took their orders and then paused, her expression turning serious. After a moment, she said, “You know, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but maybe I should give you a head’s up. If you just got here, no one else might have said anything yet. I’d hate for you to hear about it from someone who’s angry.” She bit her lip, still holding her order pad and pen in her hand. “You know Zeke was having money trouble when he passed, don’t you? I mean, I heard the Hall had gotten pretty rough.”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure where this was headed, but he didn’t like
the sound of it. Sarah-Jane obviously had some bad news to impart.
“He left some debts.” She made a face. “He left a lot of debts, actually. If you’ve taken over the Hall, people might expect you to make them good. I don’t think that’s fair,” she rushed on to say, “but it’s the way things are.”
Debts? Mason’s heart sank. “Do you know who he owed?”
“He had a tab down at Rafters, I know that for sure. Heather told me.”
“Heather Ward? She’s still in town?” That name was a blast from the past.
“Yep—she’s right over there, actually. I imagine the others will make themselves known. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”
“That’s all right. I’m glad you told me.” But he wasn’t glad to find out that Zeke had thrown another stumbling block in his path. Now he was responsible for his uncle’s bar tab? What about Darren? Why didn’t everyone Zeke owed knock on his door instead?
Mason knew the answer to that. For one thing, Darren lived over near Bozeman now, and by all accounts he was barely scraping by. If Zeke had run the Hall into the ground, he probably didn’t have much money to leave to his son when he passed away. Plus Darren had a passel of kids who still lived at home. And he wasn’t the one who had inherited the Hall. It was family tradition to pass the ranch down as a single parcel from generation to generation, which is why Mason’s father had co-owned it with Zeke, and why Mason would co-own it with his brothers. As long as any of them was alive, the ranch would remain in the hands of this generation. Only when all four of them had died would it pass on.
No, it was Mason that people would come to. He shook his head. He was beginning to think he’d stumbled into quicksand when he’d come back home. He searched the restaurant until he spotted Heather seated at a table with another woman and a man. She had dark, curly hair, and wore a yellow shirt and jeans that looked poured on. She was still as slim as she’d been in high-school. Just as curvy, too. She’d been one of the prettiest girls in his school, and she and Austin had hardly left each other’s side until their messy breakup just before his father had died. Mason hadn’t thought about her in years.
“What are the chances you’d know our waitress?” Regan said when Tracey left.
“Around here? Pretty good.” He was still looking at Heather, though. He could picture her and Austin walking arm and arm through the halls of Chance Creek High. It made him feel old.
“Heather certainly is pretty.”
Mason’s attention snapped back to Regan. He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. “She’s Austin’s old girlfriend. They dated in high school. Broke up just a few weeks before my father died.
“Are you sure she’s Austin’s old girlfriend?” Regan asked lightly when he glanced her way again.
“What? Yeah, I’m sure.” He was glad when Sarah-Jane arrived with their salads and rolls. Anything to break the sudden tension. He supposed he should be grateful Regan cared enough about him to feel jealous, but he was wary of anything that could change her mind about sticking around long enough to fall in love with him.
“Are we going to sleep at the Hall tonight?” Regan asked him.
“I planned on it, if that’s okay with you. Now, if there was hay in that hayloft, I’d show you a real good time.” Or he would if the hayloft didn’t have a sag to it that had him worried.
“I didn’t notice any furniture.”
She was right. Uncle Zeke had stripped the place bare. Most of the curtains were gone along with the beds, dressers, desks and other furniture. He reached across and took her hand. “Do you mind roughing it for one night? Tomorrow we’ll buy a decent bed.”
She looked at him. “One bed?”
“After this afternoon I think we can share a bed.” He grinned. “Don’t you?”
“I suppose. As long as we can grab that tower room.” She ducked her head.
He liked the way a blush pinked her cheeks. If they weren’t in a public place, he’d lean over and—
“Mason?”
He dropped Regan’s hand and faced Heather Ward, who stood at the end of their table, her face slack with shock.
“Heather…”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come home to fix up the Hall and get the ranch on its feet again. Good to see you.”
Her glance fell on Regan and he hurried to introduce them. “Regan, meet Heather Ward. Heather, meet Regan. My… girlfriend.”
Regan’s gaze snapped to him and she smiled. He smiled back. She hadn’t denied it.
“Are the rest of your brothers here?”
He noticed her attempt at nonchalance and matched it, wondering if she still carried a torch for Austin after all these years. “No. Not now. Are you… okay?” Heather was looking paler by the minute.
“Fine, just fine. That’s great. You’ve decided to come back home.”
“Yep.”
“Well, come by the store if you need any supplies. I work at Renfree’s now.”
“Renfree’s Home Décor?”
“That’s the one.”
“Sarah-Jane said you worked at Rafters.”
“You were asking about me?”
“Not exactly. She was telling me Zeke owed you money.”
“Not me—Rafters. And Sarah-Jane’s right on both counts. I work there too, and Zeke had racked up quite a tab when he passed away. You’ll have to take that up with the owner.”
“I’ll do that.”
She looked them over again and shook her head. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Regan. I hope you’re happy here.” She turned on her heel and strode from the restaurant.
“She seems… nice,” Regan said uncertainly.
“I’m not sure nice is the word I’d use. Did she seem uneasy to you?”
Regan nodded.
He rubbed his chin. “She and Austin split up on bad terms. That was a pretty crazy time.”
“Seems like a long time to hold a grudge about a high school breakup.”
“My thought exactly. Well, they’ll sort it out, I guess. Meanwhile, I’ll have to sort out Zeke’s debts before we can do anything else.
* * *
Regan woke when a beam of sunlight shone through the dirty bedroom window and nearly blinded her when she opened her eyes. She rolled onto her side and took in Mason’s broad shoulders poking out from the sleeping bags they’d zipped together the night before. The day was already warm and the confines of the sleeping bags were downright steamy, but she hated to move and wake him. She wanted to prolong the glorious night they’d spent together in this fairy tale tower bedroom.
What were the chances she’d meet a man who could set her on fire again and again? Mason had been tense through dinner and while they shopped for the sleeping bags, and when they’d returned to the Hall he’d paced the rooms for a while. But later he’d calmed down as they sat on the back porch drinking beer and watching the sunset. It was cool, so Mason had tucked her in close to him and kept an arm around her. Slowly but surely his anger had dissipated until he could laugh again. They made out a little, and soon couldn’t keep their hands off each other. When Mason led her upstairs to bed, her whole body had thrummed with anticipation. They’d stayed up for hours exploring each other’s bodies, murmuring about their plans together, touching and stroking and teasing each other until they had to make love again.
The angle of the light told her it was still early. She did her best to slide out from the sleeping bags without waking him, but Mason’s eyes snapped open the moment she moved. He smiled a slow, tender smile that left her weak in the knees.
“Hello.”
“Hi.” She felt shy suddenly, as if she hadn’t given him access to every secret part of her the night before.
“You’re even more beautiful in the morning.”
Regan blushed. She knew her eyes must be shining with everything she felt for this man. She didn’t mind; she wanted him to know her heart.
“I had a great time last night,” he said.<
br />
“Me, too.”
“I wish we could stay here all day, but there’s lots to do.”
“Including buying a real bed.” She was sore from sleeping on the hard floor.
“Uh-huh.”
“What about your brothers? Should we buy beds for them, too?”
Mason frowned and she wanted to smooth away the lines on his forehead. “Austin won’t arrive until the middle of June. Zane will get here in the fall. And Colt,” he shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows about Colt? I hope to change his mind by next spring. We’ll wait to buy their beds.” The thought of replacing all the family heirlooms with impersonal store bought furniture depressed him.
“What’s wrong?”
He shrugged. “Zeke sold all our stuff. It won’t be the same with all new things.”
“Were your furnishings antiques?”
“Not really. Just… old friends, I guess you could say.”
“Do you have any pictures of the Hall from when you were young? Photos that might show the furniture?”
“My mom does. Why?”
“Have her send some over. We could hit estate sales and thrift stores. Auctions. I bet we could find some similar pieces.”
It was a good idea. Except for the money. “Our furniture budget will be next to nothing.”
To Mason’s surprise, Regan smiled. “That’s the challenge of it, then. Leave it to me. I’m the financial wizard, remember?”
“Okay.” He bent down and kissed her. He’d gladly leave the furniture up to her. “I thought I’d have to work a lot harder to convince you to stay. It seems like the place is growing on you.”
“It is,” she admitted. “So are you.”
“Oh, yeah? I hope you still feel that way tonight.”
“Why, what are you going to do to me today?” She wriggled her eyebrows. He could do just about anything he liked, as far as she was concerned.
“Put you to work. I want to test your small engine repair skills.” He scooped her into his arms and blew a raspberry against her throat. Regan struggled to get away, laughing.