by Emma Hart
“Dear fucking God, that was enlightening.”
I looked up from my sketchbook and grinned as Mason stepped out onto the back porch. “I told you it was interesting.”
“I think I know more about their sex lives than I do about my own.” He ran his hand through his hair and sat on the chair next to me. “I’m sorry, but I think I have to break up with the book club.”
I laughed, setting the book down on the table. “Lucky you. I can usually work while they yammer on, but I wanted to experience your reactions the first time.”
“How did you get away?”
“I went to use the bathroom.”
“That was forty-five minutes ago.”
“I know.” I smirked. “I figured you could look after them until their cabs all showed up.”
“Thanks for that,” he said dryly, leaning right back in the chair. “Like I haven’t looked after a child and a poop-happy puppy all day already.”
“You come to the madhouse; you’re responsible for the madhouse.” I shrugged and put my pencil on top of the pad.
“What are you drawing?”
“Whatever comes out of the pencil. Just letting it run free.”
He leaned over and turned the pad so he could see. “Flower garden?”
I shrugged. “Probably. There aren’t any squirrels, though, wonky-eyed or otherwise.”
He met my eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “Shame. Your squirrels are the best squirrels.”
I pursed my lips and grabbed the sketchbook, closing the cover over it. Partly to protect the drawing, but also to protect me. My sketches were such a part of me that were so personal, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to open that part to him yet.
I mostly didn’t want him to flip through the pages and see everything I’d drawn. Not because there was anything I wanted to hide, but because, well… I just didn’t want him to see them.
“Are they always that crazy at book club?” Mason nodded toward the house. “It seems like the books are just an excuse to get drunk and talk shit.”
“That’s exactly what they are.” I fought a smile. “Like eighty-year-olds need an excuse to get drunk and talk shit. When I’m eighty, I’ll do that just because I’m eighty and I’m allowed. Hell, I do that now, and I’m twenty-six.”
“I don’t think you should need an excuse to get drunk and talk shit.”
“I agree with you. Lord knows I did it enough six years ago.”
A little darkness flashed in his eyes, and guilt immediately pinged inside of me. There was no way I could move on if I kept throwing the past back at him. He’d already apologized for hurting me, and going on about it just made me a huge bitch.
“Mason, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
He shrugged one shoulder and looked out at the dark backyard. “You’re allowed to feel the way you do, Immy, and you don’t have to apologize to me for it.”
“No, but I do have to apologize to you for being a raging bitch.” I scooted forward on the chair. “It happened. You apologized. You want to be friends, and we do have to get along, especially if Grandma is gonna keep sending me over with baked goods.”
A smile ghosted across his face, and he turned his head back so he could peer at me out of the corner of his eye. “She’s going to keep sending you over with baked goods until one of us gets engaged.”
“The horror. I might have to move.”
“That would solve the issue. Or you could get married.”
“I don’t know. That’s expensive.”
“And moving house isn’t?”
“I don’t mean financially expensive—although it is. Emotionally expensive. Didn’t you hear Francesca earlier? She doesn’t have a future mother-in-law; she has a future monster-in-law.”
He tilted his head to the side. “You’re right. I’ve met the woman and I can tell you she’s a micromanager to the extreme. She wants to control the entire wedding, and I don’t know how long Fran can handle that.”
“You’re close, aren’t you? You and Fran.”
“Does that freak you out?”
“Why would it freak you out? How close you are is none of my business.”
“Why did you ask then?”
“Because I’m nosy as hell.”
He laughed and swung his feet up onto the table, crossing his legs at the ankles. He relaxed right back in the chair and rolled his head side to side before he focused on me. “She’s like my little sister now, honestly. I still wonder how we dated as long as we did before it all went to shit. I think we just got along so well that breaking up didn’t really occur to us. Then we found out she was pregnant and thought we’d try again. We even lived together then because we thought it would be easier, but our relationship hadn’t changed at all.
“Now, it’s just normal for us. It means Maya’s happy and it makes everything run much smoother. If she wants to go on vacation like she just did, I’m cool with changing my schedule. If I get wrapped up in a case and need to skip a Saturday to work or something, we add the day on later in the year.”
“I think it’s great, especially for Maya. She’s obviously a well-adjusted kid and that’s down to both of you.”
“What does hating her mom achieve?” His lips tugged to one side. “Lots of fighting and bickering back and forth? How does that help anyone? All our lives are easier because we get along, and in twenty years, Maya will look back and while she won’t have memories of us being together as one family, she’ll have a whole host of memories of two families that were always there for her no matter what. Even if we get married to other people and have more kids, she’ll always be important.”
“Do you think about that? Getting married and having more kids?”
“Why? Are you offering?”
I threw my pencil at him.
He laughed, tossing it back. “Sure I do, but moving closer to her has been my priority for the last year or so. I work a lot and when I’m not working, I have her. I don’t have time to date much.”
“Don’t tell Grandma. She’ll start trying to hook you up with people.”
“You mean all the baked goods aren’t her doing that with us?”
“Oh, it is her trying to push us together. But if you don’t tell her it’s not working, I won’t either, and you’ll keep getting your steady stream of cakes and shit.”
“I’ll take the cakes, but you can keep the shit.”
“You’re not funny, Mason.”
“I thought that was witty.”
“You thought wrong.”
He laughed and stretched his hands above his head, making his t-shirt rise up and show a glimpse of his toned, tanned stomach.
That I was totally not looking at, okay?
Okay.
I yanked my gaze away and looked over at his house. The last thing I needed was for him to catch me ogling his goddamn stomach. There was no way of talking my way out of that one, was there?
Ugh.
Being a restrained woman was so much hard work.
Neither of us spoke for a few minutes. We just sat together, listening to the sound of crickets chirping in the bushes that lined the back of the yard, in the dark.
It was nice. Not the thing I’d imagined us doing, but I felt like that was somewhat better than what I had thought we’d do.
Argue.
There was something comfortable about being in Mason’s presence again. Just sitting here with him with nothing more than silence between us was more enjoyable than I expected.
There was comfort in familiarity, I guess.
Could he still be that familiar after six years?
The way it felt to sit here with him… Yes. He could. And he was.
And that was scary. To feel the way I did right now, where I felt like I didn’t want him to leave at all, was absolutely terrifying. I could sit here all night with him without saying a word and I knew it wouldn’t feel weird.
And it was a weird thing to not feel weird about.
> It’d been so long since I’d felt this way about anyone.
Why did it have to be him? Why, after all this time, was it Mason who made me feel this way? Granted, it wasn’t like I’d dated a whole lot since I’d graduated. I didn’t really have a whole lot of time between Grandma and the store, and honestly… I hadn’t wanted to date.
I still didn’t really want to date.
Was it because of Mason? There hadn’t been closure and I still clearly harbored something for him, otherwise I wouldn’t feel this way.
I wouldn’t feel afraid to speak in case I broke the moment.
So I didn’t. I said nothing. I just sat, unmoving except for the rise and fall of my chest and the blinking of my eyes, staring at nothing in particular, while I felt almost everything.
It was equal parts exciting and terrifying to feel so much all at once.
Especially when, at the same time, it didn’t really feel like I was feeling anything at all.
It made no sense, and I knew that, but the point still remained. I felt everything and nothing and all the things in between.
I didn’t really know what to do with myself.
“I should get going,” Mason said after a few more minutes of silence. “I have to be at the office tomorrow at eight-thirty ready for a meeting.”
“Oh, of course. It’s late. Here, I’ll walk you through.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I need to lock up anyway. Grandma probably already went to bed.” I gathered my sketchbook and pencil and followed him into the house. I made sure the back door was locked and the porch lights were turned off before I walked to the front door.
Mason pulled it open and stepped onto the dimly-lit front porch, back out into the warm night air. I set my sketchbook and pencil on the side table that held the bowl for our keys and took a step outside with him.
It was a perfectly pleasant night, but I already knew that. I was just thinking about all the things I could so I didn’t have to think about the fact he was right next to me.
“Thank you for this enlightening experience, but I think I’ll be busy next week.” He grinned down at me. “And I definitely don’t want to be sitting on a knitting needle again.”
“Ah, in my defense, I did tell you to watch out for them.”
“You did.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I should have known something was up when you were all watching me like a hawk—or is that just their usual modus operandi?”
“Their usual M.O.,” I confirmed. “Little more because of the needles.”
“Figures.” His lips tugged to one side. “Anyway. Like I said. Gotta go.” He cocked a thumb toward his house. “I had fun tonight.”
I swallowed, glancing away before I met his eyes. “Me, too.”
He reached forward and pushed hair from my face, then before I could say a word, he dipped his head and brushed his lips over my cheek.
Blood rushed to my face, heating my skin to a volcanic level that he had to be able to feel, never mind see.
“Goodnight,” I said quickly, rushing back inside and slamming the door shut. I turned the key and slid the deadbolt across as if he were going to burst in after me.
Which, of course, he wasn’t.
Grandma hobbled out of the living room with her cane tapping against the floor. She was already dressed in her pajamas and bathrobe, and her slippers slapped against the wood panels. “Should have told him to kiss you properly or not at all.”
My jaw dropped. “Were you spying on us?”
“Keeping the neighborhood safe,” she said without batting an eyelid. “Now go to bed before I go and tell him to shove his cheek kiss up his ass and kiss you properly.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t. But do you really want to risk it on the off chance that I might?”
I stared at her for a moment—with her silver hair in rollers, not a lick of makeup, but a damn mischievous look in her eyes.
“Damn you, woman,” I snapped, storming past her to take to the stairs.
Grandma yawned. “That’s for God to decide, dear.”
***
The knitting needles weren’t enough payback.
That’s what I’d thought all last night while lying in bed. Not about the feeling of Mason’s lips on mine.
Nuh-uhhh. Not at all.
I still had to pay him back for the clown in the box.
I knew exactly how I was going to do it, too. Now that Maya was gone until Friday night, the gloves were off, and the prank war was officially on.
I locked the store, pocketed the keys, and headed for my car. After a quick stop at the bank to deposit the cash I’d taken on this unusually busy Monday, I hid my house key in the zip pocket of my purse and turned for home.
I had it. I was a genius.
I knew Mason was at work and Grandma was off doing something with Evelyn. That in itself was alarming, but I was going to give the old ladies a pass today so that I could pull off my next prank.
It was really kind of hard when you didn’t have full access to the place where the person lived.
I pulled up on my driveway, happy to see Mason’s car parked up on his. I got out of the car and made a show of digging in my purse for keys I’d already hidden, then spent the next two minutes “emptying” my purse on the porch table.
Damn.
No keys.
Oh, the shock!
I threw everything back in my purse and pretended to make several phone calls. I had no idea if Mason could see me, but I also knew that my grandmother wasn’t the only curtain-twitcher in this neighborhood, so I had to ham it up a little in case anyone decided to mention anything to him.
That’s right. I’d thought this through.
I tossed my phone back in my purse and walked across both mine and Mason’s yard to get to his front door. I knocked, and when there was no answer, I knocked again.
Harder.
“Who is it?” he yelled from inside.
“Imogen!”
“Oh!” A moment later, he opened the door wearing nothing but a towel for the second time since he’d moved in.
I blinked at him. “Why are you always in a towel when I knock?”
“Trying to tempt you into realizing what you’re missing, obviously. What’s up?”
“My cousin took my keys this afternoon and didn’t bring them back and Grandma isn’t home. I’m locked out. Can I stay here until she comes back?”
His eyebrows shot up. “You’re willingly asking to hang out at my house?”
“You won’t even know I’m here.” I held up my hands.
“I doubt that.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. Come in. I’ll go and put some clothes on, unless you’d rather I wore less.”
“I take it back. I’ll sit in my car.”
He grabbed my arm, laughing, and dragged me inside. “I’m screwing with you. Make yourself comfortable while I get changed. I’m sorry if the dog slobbers on you. She’s a little needy.”
“Noted.” I went through to the living room and perched on the edge of the sofa. Dolly ran over to my feet and wagged her tail, jumping up at my legs in a bid for attention.
I was happy to oblige her, and I spent the next few minutes scratching behind her ears and on her belly until Mason came back downstairs and she was distracted by the sound of food from the kitchen.
“Good day at work?” he asked, joining me in the living room.
“Busy,” I replied. “You?”
“It was good to be back. It’s been a while, with moving and everything. I’m happy to get some consistency back.”
I nodded slowly. “Totally. Sorry to bug you like this.”
“You’re not bugging me at all. It happens. Why did your cousin take your keys?”
“She left something here when she was here the other day. She’s a pain in my ass.” I sighed. “It shouldn’t be long. Grandma should be back soon.”
; “Doesn’t make a difference to me, Immy. I have a turkey chili in the slow cooker if you need to eat.”
“You have a slow cooker?”
“No need to sound so surprised. I like to eat dinner like everyone else.”
“No, I didn’t—” I stopped to fight a laugh. “I just never associated you with cooking, that’s all.”
“I’m not the worst, but I’m not exactly a Gordon Ramsay either. Roasting a chicken is about as fancy as you’ll see me get.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a roast chicken,” I replied. “It’s a versatile meal.”
Mason grinned. “Do you want a drink?”
“No, I’m good. Can I use your bathroom, though?”
“Sure. Want me to show you where it is?”
“Your house is laid out like mine. I think I can figure it out,” I teased. “Thanks.” I grabbed my purse and headed for the stairs.
I locked myself in the bathroom and quickly got to work. After locating the toothpaste, I removed the Ziplock bag from my purse and squeezed all the toothpaste into it. After that, I closed it and tucked it into my purse.
I removed the can of shaving cream and turned on the tap so he wouldn’t be able to hear what I was doing. I quickly filled the toothpaste tube with the cream and secured the cap, then cleaned the tube off so he wouldn’t know anything was up.
I turned off the tap, flushed the toilet, and pulled the spare t-shirt from my purse so it looked as though I’d simply freshened up after a long day at work. A quick brush of my hair finished it off, and I returned both the hairbrush and the half-empty can of shaving cream to my purse and made my way downstairs.
“Are you all right?” Mason asked, his brow furrowed.
“Yeah. Sorry. I just needed to freshen up.” I motioned to my new shirt. “Do you know if Grandma’s back yet?”
“I haven’t heard any cars. I’m about to eat if you want to join me.”
I smiled. “It’s okay. I’ll go sit on the porch, but if she’s not back in half an hour, I might just take you up on it.”
“Plenty here.”
“Thanks.” I waved and let myself out before he could draw the conversation out any longer. I knew my big mouth would give it all away, so I needed to get as far away from him as possible.
Until tomorrow, that was.