Written in the Stars

by LuAnn McLane

  Avery held up a cauldron of ale. “We held some back for an after party. Payment enough, and we’re glad as hell to have a craft brewery in our hometown.”

  They all lifted a glass in salute. “To Broomstick Brewery!”

  18

  Hope Floats

  SOMETIMES A PLAN CAN WORK TOO WELL, GRACE thought as she carefully walked down the long dock to her cabin. With each step she took, the cabin somehow seemed farther away. An eerie mist hovered over the river, making her imagine the Loch Ness monster making an appearance. Perhaps he’d be a friendly sort and hang out near her back deck. Grace chuckled at the silly notion, but her laughter faded into the fog, leaving her feeling empty and rather forlorn. Mason’s earlier comments no longer seemed to matter quite so much, but there was no turning back the clock, so she might as well just...just what? She wasn’t sure.

  Grace shivered when a damp, cool breeze made her palazzo pants flap around her legs. A glance over to the covered slips showed no signs of light at Mason’s houseboat, so he must still be up at the brewery. Grace felt a little guilty about leaving without helping to clean up, but Sophia and Danny said that they were going to hang out with Colby and Avery and maybe a few others for an after party, cleaning up little by little. A crew had been hired to pick up trash on the lawn, so they insisted that she was good to go home if she wanted to leave.

  Another gust of wind lifted her witch’s hat from her head, sending it flying into the river. “Bollocks!” Grace grumbled, and then felt tears spring to her eyes. “No! You will not cry,” she said firmly, and then sniffed. Looking back, she realized her plan to avoid Mason was bloody stupid to begin with. She should have swallowed her pride and mingled with him. But no, she had to go and prove some misguided point. Why did people do that to each other, especially to the ones they loved the most?

  Grace should be ecstatic over the overwhelming success of the soft opening, but sadness weighed on her like a wet wool sweater. When the dock bobbed just a bit, she hefted her purse tighter to her shoulder and clung to the bottle of Black Magic that she’d taken home with her. A little later she would be crying in her beer, like the lyrics in one of Shane McCray’s country songs.

  If that wasn’t enough, Grace’s stomach growled in protest; she hadn’t eaten more than a few bites of this and that while she chatted with the guests. In truth, she’d not had much of an appetite after walking out on Mason, but low blood sugar made her a crazy person, so she knew she needed to eat something.

  Only a few more steps. “Thank God I’m finally home,” Grace said when she finally reached the front door of the cabin. She fumbled for her keys, praying that she had something in the fridge without mold on it to stuff in her mouth.

  After flipping on the lights to scare away anything that might emerge from the mist, Grace put the porter in the fridge. And just as she’d thought, there wasn’t anything remotely worthy of consumption on the nearly bare shelves. She looked at the shelves again, as if staring would somehow conjure up some River Row pizza. “Maybe if I still had the hat on, I could make some magic happen,” she said with a sad little laugh. “Poof!” she said, waited, and then closed the door.

  Grumbling under her breath, Grace headed into the small bedroom and tossed her purse onto the bed so hard that it bounced. Grace thought about phoning Sophia to bring her some leftovers and listen to her many woes, but she knew that her sister wanted to hang out after the party. Sophia might pretend that she thought of Avery only as a friend, but Grace suspected that Sophia was already sweet on the cute country boy. “Whatever is it about cowboy boots and a sexy Southern drawl that makes a girl’s good sense fly right out the window?” But then Grace conjured up a vision of Mason in a tuxedo and decided that his appeal had nothing to do with what he wore.

  Naked would be even better.

  “Oh, stop it!” she whispered fiercely, then decided to change into sweatpants and a hoodie. After she tugged the pants on, spotting the Mayfield Marina logo reminded her of the stormy night she’d first met Mason. But Grace pushed that thought aside, wondering if she’d truly been that difficult to find all night long or if Mason didn’t really give locating her much of a try.

  Grace pondered whether Mason despised the witch logo as much as he let on or if it was a way to put distance between them. Maybe he was finally beginning to understand that it was pointless to pursue someone who was going to leave.

  After retrieving the porter from the fridge, Grace poured the dark frothy ale into a glass and took a sip. Of course the rich chocolate flavor also brought back memories of sitting in the bathroom while keeping safe from the raging storm. There had been something about Mason Mayfield from the moment she met the man.

  Grace sighed, thinking that she’d gotten herself into quite a pickle. She’d keep her hand in the marketing end of the brewery, but all too soon she wouldn’t be needed at the location on a daily basis. In fact, expansion could mean extensive travel, at least in the tristate area. And Mason did need to seriously consider growing his distribution quickly while the excitement for the new brewery was going strong, getting lots of reviews and press. Grace knew that the beer was excellent and they had that on their side, but momentum was also so very important. Striking while the iron was hot could be the difference between having mild success and having huge success. In the end the decision would be his, but as marketing director she felt she needed to point out what she knew to be true not only through research but from personal experience as well.

  Grace picked up her iPad, thinking it was another night for music to soothe her soul. She might even brave sitting outside on the deck while drinking her ale and singing along to sad songs. Surely she had some crisps in the pantry to munch on while she and Billy Joel did another night of duets. If not, she might just have to head up to the bistro and steal some food the way Rusty the Irish setter was fond of doing. Grace remembered a story that Garret still loved to tell about Rusty pinching a ham from the breakfast supplies the day Garret and Mattie met. Of course, thinking of ham made her stomach rumble again. Oh, wait, she didn’t have a bloody key! Grace groaned, but then brightened just slightly when she located a can of barbecue-­flavored Pringles. She shook the can and the tinkling sound indicated that it was nearly empty. Popping the lid, she peeked in and had to sigh. Ah well, she had a few crumbs to sustain her anyway. After the bottle of porter, she’d be singing with Billy and wouldn’t care about being famished any longer. Caring about Mason, though, was another story.

  Armed with her drink, her crisps, and her songs, Grace slid open the door and headed outside. The damp, chill air reminded her of evenings in London. She sat down, thinking that she missed the city sometimes, but would she miss this view so much more? She looked up at the stars glittering in the inky black sky and felt the gentle breeze carrying the beginning of autumn with it.

  Grace sipped her ale slowly, savoring the taste; since she had only one, she needed to make it last. The Prin­gles, however, were consumed in an instant. With a moan she put the can up to her mouth and tipped her head back, determined to get the last crunchy bits.

  “There you are! Holy crap, you scared the daylights out of me!”

  At the sound of Mason’s voice, Grace dropped the can and scooted around in her lounge chair. “I think that’s my line,” she said, trying not to be so damned pleased that he’d come over. But looking at the stormy expression on his face, perhaps she shouldn’t be glad at all.

  Mason held up a soggy witch’s hat and noticed that Mason was dripping wet.

  “You jumped into the river for a hat?”

  “Waded in, actually, since the hat was at the dock close to the bank. Now my boots are caked with mud.”

  Grace looked down and noticed he was in his bare feet. “Why on earth did you feel the need to retrieve the hat? Especially a witch’s hat you hate so very much?”

  “Gracie, I thought you had fallen in! Imagine my holy terror wh
en I saw the hat floating by the dock.”

  “Witches do sink,” Grace said with a slight smile, but he glowered at her and her good humor faded. “Why are you so mad at me?”

  “I thought you could have drowned!”

  “So if I had fallen in and drowned, you’d feel better right now?” Grace stood up, angry now too. “Do you want me to jump in and make you feel better?” She walked over to the railing, knowing full well she’d never jump in, but she felt like pissing him off. The wind taking her hat wasn’t her fault, for pity’s sake!

  Mason was upon her in two long strides. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her up against him. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Since when are you the boss?” she asked, and then realized that was the very last thing she should have said.

  “Oh, really? I thought we were partners,” he said hotly in her ear. “In this together?”

  “You’re getting me all wet!” she sputtered, wiggling.

  “Am I, now?”

  “Yes!” she said, but then the double entendre made her feel warm in spite of his cold clothes. “You can let go; I wasn’t really going to jump in.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?”

  “So it’s an excuse to manhandle me?” she asked.

  “It’s an excuse to hold you, but you obviously don’t want me to.” When he dropped his arms, she spun around, ready to fight, but she saw the relief in his eyes, and some of the heat faded. “Why did you toss the hat into the water?”

  “I didn’t.” She raised her hands, palms upward. “It blew off!”

  “Well...,” he said, and then without warning he pulled her back into his arms and hugged her tight. “God, Gracie, I was so scared. It wasn’t until I thought to look in the direction of your cabin and saw the lights on that I realized that you weren’t in the damned river!”

  “I wasn’t pissed enough at you to jump to my demise!”

  “I know you wouldn’t jump in. I thought you probably fell off the dock,” he said, and she felt a shiver run through his body.

  “Oh. Well, here I am, safe and sound,” she said softly. “Ew, you smell like a swamp.”

  “I fell all the way in when I reached for the damned hat.” Mason pulled back and winced. “I’ll go home and shower.”

  “Meaning you’re planning on coming back here?” She couldn’t keep the hope out of her tone.

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “So, why were you coming here in the first place?” Grace asked. “To tell me how much you hated the event tonight?”

  “No, Gracie. To tell you how sorry I was for being such a jerk today. I’m sorry.” He shoved his fingers through his wet hair. “I don’t know what got into me.” He swallowed hard. “I tried to track you down all night long, but you kept slipping away from me. It was really annoying, by the way.”

  “Really?” Grace arched an eyebrow. “You had plenty of other female attention.”

  Mason looked up at the sky and shook his head. “That little escapade was Jimmy Topmiller’s idea.”

  “Come again?”

  “Jimmy said that in order to get your attention, I should make you jealous. Stupid...” He gave her a short laugh and appeared embarrassed.

  “Brilliant, actually.”

  Mason looked at her. “You mean it worked?”

  “I wanted to march over there to that circle of women and stake my claim. Tell those ladies that I was the head witch and they’d best back off.”

  “Really?” Mason grinned. “Why didn’t you?”

  “It would have ruined my whole cold-­shoulder, disappearing routine that I thought was somehow necessary.”

  Mason laughed, but then pulled her close. She didn’t even care about his wet clothes or smelly river scent. She was in his arms, where she wanted to be. “You are a piece of work, my cute little witch.”

  “I had to stay in character.”

  Mason kissed her forehead. “I’m really sorry I acted the fool.”

  “Well, maybe I’ve been just a tad too controlling.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Yeah...”

  “No, Gracie, you are amazing at what you do. And I’m grateful, not angry. Yeah, I wouldn’t have come up with Broomstick Brewery in a million years, and I still don’t totally love it, but tonight the quality of the beer wasn’t overshadowed at all. The atmosphere was festive and fun, and you’re right—­women ate it up.”

  “Oh, please don’t talk about eating. I’m starving.”

  “I brought food. Lucky for you, I tossed the bag and my cell phone onto the dock before taking the plunge. Yes, I brought you food.”

  “You did?” Grace pulled back and did a little jig. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?” she asked, but then suddenly stopped dancing. Her heart pounded. She swallowed hard and looked at him.

  Mason stared right back. “No, as a matter of fact.” He waited, as if daring her to go on. “You haven’t.”

  “I do, you know.” She stepped closer, reached over, and took his hand. “I love you, Mason,” she said in a serious, husky voice. Grace smiled, suddenly feeling a little bit shy, vulnerable. Humor and sass were her weapons against getting hurt, and now she felt stripped down and naked. “I...I told my mum.”

  “That I was a jackass?”

  She tilted her head. “I said wanker, but, yes.”

  “Not sure what wanker is, but I’m thinking it’s not something I want to be called.”

  Grace put a palm on his chest. “But then I told her that I loved you and didn’t want to break your heart.”

  “And what did she say?”

  “That it sounds like you’re willing to take that risk.”

  “Gracie, I’m in love with you too, and there’s not a damned thing I can do about it.”

  “Do you want to do something about it?”

  “No.” He ran his fingertip over her bottom lip. “If I lose you, if you leave, it will be because that’s who you are and what you need to do. I’ll never ask you to stay in Cricket Creek unless it’s where you want to live. Unless you will be happy living here. Baby, I’ll love you forever, and nothing can change that fact. But I’m not going to tie you down or hold you back. I won’t like it if you feel the need to leave, and neither will the people who have to deal with me after you go, because my moodiness will be off the charts.”

  “Oh, Mason...”

  “But, baby, I’d rather let you go than keep you trapped in a cage. So I want you to promise me, right here and now, that if you have the urge to go...if you need to go to do new and challenging things, that you’ll do it. And don’t look back.”

  She swallowed hard, wishing she could give him reassurance.

  “I won’t lie. It will be super shitty. But I’ll survive.”

  Grace closed her eyes and felt tears leak out of the corners. When Mason wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs, she grabbed his arms and looked at him. “You know that what you just said is the most oddly romantic thing I’ve ever heard, much less been told?” And she wasn’t joking. Mason was telling her that he’d put his own happiness on the line rather than hold her back. How could she ever leave a man who loved her that much? The thought made her heart constrict, but at the same time she knew she would have to go or shrivel up like leaves in the fall. “I don’t know if I can leave you, Mason.”

  “I want you to promise me, Gracie.” When she turned her head to the side, he cupped his hand on her chin and gently guided her back so she had to face him. “Promise.”

  “This is the oddest thing ever. You want me to promise to leave you. I think we are both weird enough to somehow make this work.”

  “You are avoiding my request.”

  “I know. Okay...okay.” Grace finally gave him a jerky nod. “I promise,” she said, barely above a whisper. �
�Are you happy now?”

  “Now? Yes. And that means that if you do end up staying that it’s what you really want to do...not have to do. Does that make sense?”

  “Unfortunately, it makes perfect sense. You haven’t known me all that long, and I feel as if you understand me more than I understand myself. And that’s not an easy task.”

  “Well, we aren’t going to think about you leaving tonight. Deal?”

  She nodded.

  Mason leaned in and kissed her, softly but thoroughly. “I need a shower so I can make love to you.”

  “Take one here,” she said, clinging to his wet shirt.

  Mason nodded. “Get something to eat, and then join me in bed.”

  “Okay,” she said, and watched him walk into the cabin. Warm and tingling happiness washed over her. She hugged her arms to her chest and smiled. The little seed of hope that she’d planted in her heart just sprouted and grew stronger.

  Grace looked at the stack of takeaway boxes and smiled. She opened one and ate a few finger sandwiches and then munched on slices of Brie on crackers. A biscuit with a thin slice of country ham melted in her mouth.

  The sound of the shower running brought an image of Mason naked with soapsuds slithering down his amazing body into her brain. With a groan she closed the lid and popped the leftovers into the fridge. Eating could wait until later...much, much later.

  19

  We’ve Got Tonight

  MASON LET THE HOT WATER PELT HIS SHOULDERS AND sluice down his body. While soaping up, he hoped that Grace might decide to join him, but that was probably wishful thinking. Having her hands, slick with soap, sliding over his body would be pure heaven. Mason made a mental note that when he built his dream house he’d have a walk-­in shower with double heads.

  Mason squirted some coconut-­scented shampoo into the palm of his hand and then scrubbed his head, thinking he was going to smell like a girl. Damn, she had lotions and potions and strange-­shaped scrubbing things dangling from shelves hooked over the shower nozzle. Mason had a sudden image of Gracie in her naked glory scrubbing her body with that big white puffy thing on a rope and he became instantly hard. He glanced through the sheer shower curtain, hoping again that she might feel the need to wash his back...and his front and every­thing in between. He just wanted her touching him anywhere, everywhere. He wanted her slick, soapy body sliding against him while he...