“Better not try it. Apparently, I can’t say no to you.” Caleb chuckled and finished washing up. When they climbed out of the shower, Mason put on a pair of his lounge pants and dropped into the bed beside him. “What are you doing?” Caleb asked in surprise.
“Making our moments last,” he whispered. “Don’t worry. I know what time my parents wake. I’ll be out before they realize I was here.”
“You’re living a dangerous life,” Caleb whispered.
“Ah, but at least it is a life.”
Chapter 12
Two months had passed and the Sinclair household was transformed for the holidays. Tiny lights woven through the bannister illuminated the house at night, and Christmas carols filled the rooms by day. The scent of cinnamon and spices made the temporary apartment in the attic feel more like home, making it harder for Caleb to pack for his upcoming departure. He knew he could not stay though, no matter what he or Mason wanted.
It did not help that Mrs. Sinclair had warmed toward him, and frequently knocked at his door with samples of her delicious baked goods. She was a big fan of Christmas cookies, which was something they had in common. Caleb almost felt like a welcome addition to the household instead of the interloper he had been during the previous months. Her husband, on the other hand, stayed out of his way.
Mr. Sinclair was busy encouraging a closer union between Mason and Riesling while wedding preparations for Robert and Belinda picked up speed. The latter project was taking up more and more of Mason’s time. Caleb found himself inventing reasons to see him.
“Are we on for the sitting this afternoon, Mason?” he popped a head into the living room to ask one evening. The entire family was gathered. Was it his imagination, or did Riesling always tighten her grip on Mason’s arm at the sight of him?
Mrs. Sinclair looked up with a smile and gestured at a spread of cookies and cakes. “Ah, Mr. O’Hara! Would you like to join us for tea? We’re sampling wedding cakes from a great little bakery in town.”
“Come try a bite,” Belinda encouraged.
“Thank you, Mrs. Sinclair and Ms. Belinda, but I’m a bit tied up at the moment,” Caleb said. “Mason?”
Mason glanced at his father and back at Caleb with a shy grin. “I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Caleb nodded and exited, smiling to himself as he jogged up the staircase to the rhythm of “Little Drummer Boy.” He burst into his apartment, and his attention was immediately taken by the five paintings he had completed, each singular and unique, but all possessing a familiar pair of almond-shaped eyes.
Caleb had tried to resist the siren call of oil paints and canvases, but he could not give up on the collection, despite Gregoire’s assertion this was not his season. Caleb lived for the Saturday sessions that forced him to keep his hands off his lover and channel his passion into his art. There was a huge difference in his work as a result of the tension. Gregoire would be impressed—that is, if he were taking Caleb’s calls.
He sighed as he doubled back to close his apartment door and settled on the edge of his mattress. Maybe when he made it to San Francisco, he would find a small gallery willing to show his work, but his promise to stay presented a whole new set of problems. If Caleb did not take over teaching for Greg’s friend, he would show up without a sponsor, making it harder to break into the scene. Caleb pulled out his half-packed suitcase.
Riesling was growing more attached to Mason. He rolled the thought around in his head to determine if it inspired the same jealousy it had when he was not sure of Mason’s feelings for him. Caleb continued to believe she was the better match for his lover, but he would never be able to convince Mason of that even if he wanted to. The twenty-one-year-old was such an idealist.
“Hi Caleb,” Mason opened the door without knocking.
Caleb looked up and smiled. “Ready to get started?”
Mason shook his head apologetically. “Riesling has been invited to a Christmas party just off campus, and my father would like for me to escort her to make sure she is safe.”
“Oh,” Caleb murmured, looking away. “Alright, well, I can get some other things done while you’re away.”
“I don’t want to go, but really do have no choice. I wouldn’t send her out there alone, anyway. Those sorority parties can get a little wild.” Mason moved toward him and laced his fingers through Caleb’s. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“No, take your time.” Caleb’s brow furrowed. He hid his disappointment and even managed a convincing smile. “Hey, try to enjoy yourself out there. You never go out, and it’ll be good to be out around people your own age,” he teased.
Mason chuckled and fake-punched him in the stomach. Caleb caught his fist and brought it to his lips, and Mason cupped his face, but footsteps in the hallway made them break apart. Riesling peered into the room with a curious grin.
“Sorry to interrupt. Your father sent me up. Ready to go, Mason?” she asked.
“Yes. Uh, would you like to see what Caleb has been working on?” Mason invited. He gestured at the paintings lining the wall beside the bed where Caleb could stare at them all night if he wanted to. Caleb suppressed a sigh at the artwork being shown before he was ready, but he let it slide.
Riesling gushed predictably, “Oh, this is unbelievable! Caleb, you painted these yourself?”
He nodded modestly. Mason’s eyes drifted from the paintings to the suitcase, and he arched a brow. He kept his questions to himself, however. Caleb bit his bottom lip, wondering how to explain that he had to be prepared for whatever unexpected thing happened next. As things stood, he had no reason to be there, and Mr. Sinclair seemed determined to drive that point home.
“I’m so happy Mason is getting the chance to work with you. I know he loves the experience. Now, let’s get on the road before it gets late. I don’t want to be too late home.”
“Of course.”
Caleb watched Mason adjust the collar of her jacket and hold the door for her to leave, following behind her with a backward glance and smile. Where Caleb failed to talk sense into him about his prospects with a girl like Riesling, Mr. Sinclair might well succeed and that was what troubled him. That was what had him packing his bags well in advance of the six months Mason had asked for.
The alcohol flowed freely and the music was far too loud. Mason bobbed his head, attempting to look as if he was having a good time. Away from his parents, her good girl demeanor disappeared and the fun loving, mischievous twenty-something came out to play. She swayed in front of him amidst the rowdy crowd of college students who were yelling the lyrics to a song that Mason did not know.
“Want me to get you another drink?”
Mason shook the red plastic cup he had in hand. “I’m not done with this one yet.”
“You must think I’m a total lush, I am already on my fourth!”
Mason winced at her exuberance. “How long have we been here? Are you ready to go yet?” He rubbed his ear and sighed. Riesling nudged him and pouted.
“Ah, c’mon! It’s only been a few hours. It’s not even close to one o’clock yet, and you know if we go back early your dad is going to know something is up. Don’t worry—your darling artist will be waiting for you no matter when you get home,” she teased.
Mason clutched her shoulders and whispered in her ear, “I just don’t think this is my kind of scene. Why don’t we go grab a bite to eat or something? It’s too crowded, too intense in here.”
“Yeah, apparently two guys from rival frats got into a fight earlier.”
“You could have mentioned that earlier. I would have suggested an alternative. Riesling, you know how things get when a bunch of drunk frat boys square off at a party. This was a bad idea.”
“Relax! As you can see, everyone else is still cool. Why can’t you be? I never get to be myself, Mason. Let me have one night of being myself with you,” she coaxed, toying with his tie. He put his hand over hers and tightened his lips, looking down. “Look, there’s my friend, Tayl
or. I’ve gotta go speak to her. Could you hold my drink for me?”
Riesling darted off before he could say a word. Mason stared after her anxiously as the DJ put on another track that brought everyone to the dance floor. He scanned the room with wary eyes, taking a slow sip of his drink. This was why Riesling needed him as a friend. He was glad he had come, but now he was more than ready to leave.
He watched her toss her long blond hair and laugh loudly at something her friend was saying. She was in her element, and he was completely out of place. In all their pretending, Mason wondered if they ever really knew each another. “Probably not,” he muttered to himself.
As guitar riffs screamed from the speakers, the mosh pit in the middle of the floor became even more unruly. Mason was pushed back by someone barreling into him. Alcohol sloshed over his outfit, and he swore. The guy who had bumped him did not apologize. There were people pushing and shoving in the middle of the pit, and suddenly Riesling seemed a universe away.
“Ries!” he called out. She threw up both arms and flashed rock star fingers, shouting gleefully. He hoped she would avoid the mosh pit. Jumping into it seemed exactly like something she would do, though. Just as he was coming to terms with the thought of Riesling in the midst of a heaving mass of sweaty bodies, someone threw a punch and all hell broke out. Mason shook his head in annoyance as Riesling locked eyes with him across the dance floor.
“Mason!” Her pale eyebrows shot upwards, and her red lips parted in alarm. She struggled to get to him, but Mason threw up his hands in warning. She could very well be trampled in the melee if she tried to wade through.
“Stay there, Ries! I’m coming to you!” He was not sure she heard him over the noise of people cheering on the fight. The rival fraternities converged and limbs and drinks flew in all directions. Mason’s heart leaped into his throat, and he dove into the crush to try to reach her. “Riesling!”
Three loud explosions in quick succession rocked the room, and the world became still. Mason’s ears rang. The music went silent, and people screamed as they tried to get away from the chaos. Mason was not sure what was happening. He poured out of the house with the ocean of party goers, unable to break free of the mass of bodies.
He shouted Riesling’s name repeatedly, but there was no sign of her. In a panic, he jerked his cellphone out of his pocket and called his brother. “Robert! I need your help.”
“What’s going on? What’s all that noise?”
“Send Caleb. Riesling is in trouble. A fight broke out at the party, and I think there were shots fired. I can’t get to her.”
“Oh, my God! We’re on our way!”
Robert hung up before Mason could remind him not to let their parents know what was going on. He gripped the phone and ran between groups of shocked people who were standing in the front yard of the house where the party had come to a crashing end.
“Were those gunshots?” someone asked.
Mason’s heart constricted. Where was Riesling? He would never forgive himself if anything had happened to her.
The Jeep slammed to a halt, and Caleb hopped out, shouting Mason’s name. Robert scrambled out of the passenger seat behind him. Flashing lights from police cars blinded him. People crowded around the house where the fight had broken out. A crying girl huddled within a circle of comforting friends. Caleb’s eyes zeroed in on two people being placed into police cars.
“Were there shots fired? Does anyone know?” Robert asked a passer-by. The young college student shrugged and shook his head before hurrying on. “Does anyone know?”
Someone answered, “False alarm. It was the smoke machine backfiring. Everybody freaked out and bolted, but nobody got shot. I think some people got hurt trying to get out, though.”
Caleb headed straight for the police officers blocking entry to the house. He snatched down the yellow police tape and an officer shoved him. “Get back behind the tape!”
“Fuck that! My friend is in there!” Caleb shoved him back.
Robert hurried to his side. “I’m Robert Sinclair from Commissionaire International. Where’s your commanding officer?”
The officer looked uncertain at Robert’s no-nonsense attitude, but he pointed out the man in charge. “Chief Nile. He’s right over there.”
“Thank you.” Robert beckoned for Caleb to follow.
“What’s the plan?” he whispered.
“We have to get Mason and Riesling out of there,” said Robert. “The cops are likely interviewing everyone still on the property, but it shouldn’t be too hard to convince them it’s in their best interest to let them go. Chief Nile?”
A balding man in uniform turned at their approach. “Yes, sir? What can I do for you?”
“Hello, I’m Robert Sinclair of Commissionaire International. Our corporation routinely donates to the police union, and I’m a senior corporate officer. So I’m sure you understand my expectations. My brother is in that house, and I need him released immediately.”
“Hang on one second,” Chief Nile chuckled. “You don’t get to just barge in here and throw your weight around.”
“Understandable, sir. Let me place a call to Mr. Bichsel, himself, then. He can vouch for me.” Robert hid a half-smile as the chief’s expression changed. Apparently, the name Bichsel rang bells. Caleb put his hands on his hips and glared until the officer backed down.
“What’s his name?” asked Chief Nile.
“Mason Sinclair. He’s accompanying Ms. Riesling Potter. I’d like to ensure they’re both well.”
“Stay right here,” Chief Nile ordered as he breezed away.
Caleb shared a look with Robert. “Some trick.”
Robert shrugged. “Perks of being connected to some of the biggest names in the region. That’s what Mason has to look forward to as soon as he gets his mind made up about what he wants to do with his life.” Robert looked him over. “No offense, but the push and shove method doesn’t usually work with officers.”
Caleb sighed. “Yeah, well, some of us don’t have the luxury of big names, sociopathic tendencies, and matching egos.”
Within moments, Mason appeared at the open door to the house. He was shaking his head and looking worried. “I can’t find Riesling anywhere.”
Caleb stared at the door. “When the push and shove method is all you have in your arsenal, you use what you have. I’ll find her.”
Caleb jogged into the house, ignoring an officer who called after him. He darted past interviews in progress. The inside of the house was trashed. Shaken up teens and college students milled the rooms, being held until their statements were given. Caleb jogged up the stairs and peered into bedrooms.
“Riesling?” he called out.
An officer stuck a head out of another door. “You can’t be in here.”
“Chief Nile knows I’m here. I’m looking for Riesling Potter.” Caleb looked down the hall as she stepped out of a closet with wide, scared eyes.
“Caleb!”
“Thank God! Mason is worried sick about you. He couldn’t find you,” Caleb said as he made his way to her. He pulled her into a hug. She was trembling. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
“I need her statement first,” said the officer. She haltingly described how she was chatting with friends near the dance floor when the fight broke out and a sound like gunshots prompted her and her friend to run and hide. “Why were you hiding?”
“I was scared,” she whispered.
Caleb clutched her tighter. “I think you have what you said you needed,” he said forcefully. “She’s been through enough. Is she under arrest?”
“No, she is not.”
“Then, we’re leaving. Come on, Ries.”
He ushered her out of the house, and past a stunned Chief Nile who was talking to Robert and Mason. “I thought I told you to stay outside,” said the chief.
“I must not have heard that part,” Caleb lied. “We got what we came for.”
Robert interjected, “Thank you for y
our service, Chief Nile. I’ll be sure to let Mr. Bichsel know what a top-notch job you’re doing out here.”
The look on the cop’s face made it perfectly clear that he thought Robert was an entitled asshole. Caleb breathed a sigh of relief, however, as the chief backed away without giving them any hassle. His eyes darted to Mason. Riesling was safely tucked under Mason’s arm now. Caleb looked aside. “Let’s go,” he muttered.
Once in the Jeep, Robert started up. “Why did the two of you remain at the party when things were getting out of hand?”
Mason whispered, “It was a mistake. I should have trusted my better judgement.”
Riesling shrugged guiltily. Caleb shook his head and squeezed the steering wheel tighter. He could not help but feel she had taken Mason into a dangerous situation for kicks. All his thoughts about Riesling being the right kind of woman for Mason went out of the window.
“Thank you for finding her for me,” Mason replied. “Do my parents know?”
“No.” Caleb killed the engine as he parked under his customary tree.
Robert explained, “We told them you two missed the bus.”
Caleb suddenly wanted to get far away from the charade that his life had become. He could not stay another six months in this purgatory with heaven forever out of reach and hell always beckoning. He did not want to break his word to Mason, but the one month he had initially promised was over. Also, Gregoire had emailed him the plane ticket to San Francisco.
If he did not take the job there, he would be all out of options. Every rational thought in his head pointed him down that path. Caleb swallowed the lump in his throat as he reconsidered his fanciful daydreams of running away with Mason Sinclair. He had nothing to offer, but there again, neither did Riesling Potter.
Was there a chance he could convince Mason to go with him to the Bay Area? There was only one way to find out. He locked eyes with Mason. “Can I talk to you?”
Chapter 13
Mason climbed into the passenger seat that Robert had vacated. As soon as his brother and best friend were out of the way, Caleb pulled him into a kiss. His lips were warm and insistent. His hand clutched the back of Mason’s neck. It was dark out and no one could see them, but Mason’s heart raced at the possibility of getting caught.
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