by Jordyn White
I sigh. I should’ve just told her to start with. “I’m with Corrine, yes. We’re in Cabo San Lucas for a wedding.”
“You eloped!” she practically yells through the phone.
“No, not us. Her cousin.”
She exhales, recovering. Then says, “One of his?”
“Mom, please. They’re not bad people.”
“Are you even doing any renovations on that house? Is it even for sale?”
“Yes.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Mom, I’m sorry for not telling you I was leaving. We’ve barely spoken for weeks. I didn’t want to make things worse. I was trying to give you a chance to cool off and get used to the idea.”
“The idea of my son and Grant Rivers’ niece in a relationship together? I don’t want to have to get used to that idea.”
“I didn’t plan for this to happen, Mom. I didn’t want this either.”
“Then why?”
“Because. She’s more than just Grant Rivers’ niece. She’s a really great person. She makes me feel good.” More than good. Amazing. “She has from the moment I met her. It was hard to stay away from that. I guess I didn’t really want to.”
There’s silence on the other end of the line.
“I’m sorry this hurts you so much,” I say more gently. “I really am.”
“I don’t know, Mason,” she says, sounding defeated, her voice thick. “I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”
I hesitate to do anything to make this situation any more difficult, but I never should have snuck away the way I did, like a little kid instead of a man. I have to lay everything on the line right now. “Did you mean what you said about California?”
There’s a thick pause. “Mom?”
“Is she the real reason you wanted to go?”
“No. But she is part of it now.”
She sighs. “God, Mason.” She sounds so sad.
“I do like California, for all the reasons I told you. And I really did get a job offer.” Though who knows if that offer would still be there. Or if there’d be anything else like that for me if it isn’t. I may have missed my opportunity. “I have an offer on the house. I got the call right before you texted me.”
“But you don’t want to take it.”
“No, I don’t. But I don’t know that I really have a choice.”
“I’m not telling you what to do,” she says defensively.
“You don’t need to, do you? I know what you want.”
There’s another long pause.
“I’ve always been there for you, Mom. And I’m always going to be. But please, don’t make me choose between you and her.”
“And if I do?” she asks. My heart beats thickly at those words. “Which would it be?”
Corrine
The sun is low on the horizon and he still isn’t back yet. I’m on the chair on the open patio, fretting about Mason and his mother, about the offer on his house, about all of it. I don’t know what’s going to happen.
The sun dips lower, seeming to gently increase its speed as it goes. We’d planned on dinner soon, but I don’t know if I should change or not.
As soon as I hear the latch on the door, I jump up and go into the living room. He enters the room, walking straight toward me. The door slowly swishes shut. The look on his face stops me dead. He’s wearing an intense, serious expression.
I’m standing stock-still as he comes up to me, puts his arms around me, and brings me into a snug embrace.
“Are you okay?” I’m too afraid to ask which kind of hug this is. If it’s a goodbye hug, I don’t want to know. I want to put the inevitable off forever and ever. But it’s already over. He pulls away.
Now I see the smile on his face.
“I’m staying.”
“What?”
“I’m not selling the house. I’m moving to California.”
A million thoughts go through my head in the space of an instant, and all I can do is widen my eyes and stare at him with my mouth dropped. It’s probably only a spilt second that I’m standing here looking at him in horror, but this is somehow worse than goodbye. He can’t give up his family for me. He can’t. I don’t know if I can bring myself to explain why not. I’ll just have to tell him that this can’t go on. It can’t. He wasn’t supposed to choose me over her.
“You’re coming to California for me?”
“Hey,” he says in a slightly teasing voice, smiling. He cups my chin in one hand. “I didn’t say it was for you. You’re not trying to rush me into anything are you?” I feel a little foolish, making an assumption like that, but relax a little. He grins. “I’m coming for the ocean, and the job. Remember me telling you about that restoration shop? Well I didn’t tell you that he offered me a job back in November, and I just called to see if the job is still mine.” He grins broadly.
“No way.”
“I can’t believe it. I’ve dreamed about a job like that almost my whole life.”
My panic flees entirely then. If he has other reasons for coming to California, that’s up to him. This is his dream. It has nothing to do with me.
“What about your mother? How does she feel about all this? Did you tell her?”
He nods, taking my hand. He sits on the couch and pulls me onto his lap. “I did.” He tells me about his conversation with his mother, and the moment when things seemed to change for her. “I told her I know this has been breaking her heart, but she’s been breaking mine, too.”
“Wow. What’d she say to that?”
“Nothing at first. It got to her. But then she apologized and said that wasn’t her intent. I told her it wasn’t mine either. We were able to really talk about things after that. It’s the first time we’ve had a real discussion about it.” Apparently noticing my concerned expression, he says, “She’s supportive. Really.”
“She’s okay with you moving to California?”
He nods. “She knows it’s what I really want.”
I bite my bottom lip. “She’s okay with us dating?”
His face gets more serious. “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell her I was coming out here this weekend. I thought it was too soon, and I didn’t want to upset her. It was a mistake, and I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think I’m the one you should apologize to.”
He smiles, cups my cheek in one hand, and kisses me. “I apologized to her, too. Like I said, we talked about things. She said she’ll support it.”
“It’s not going to hurt your relationship?”
He shakes his head. “We’re okay, Corrine. I promise.”
With my arm around his shoulders, I sink against his chest and think about everything he’s just said. He does seem calmer about his mother, not like when we talked about it before. He looks calm. More than that, he looks happy. Excited.
I smile. “You’re really coming to California?”
He grins, nodding.
“And you promise it’s not because of me?”
He puzzles his brow at me, but is still smiling. He starts to tickle me and I squeal, squirming. I’m trying to get his tickle spot, but he’s wise to me and has the upper hand. Before I know it he’s plopped me on my back and is on top of me, pinning my hands above my head.
“No, my mother’s not going to blame you for taking her son away from her, if that’s what you’re worried about. I told you why I’m coming.” He dips his mouth down, and when he whispers in my ear, his hot breath tickles my earlobe and sends shivers down my body. “But you’re one hell of a bonus.”
Chapter 23
Mason
It’s another month before my move to California is complete. I give my boss plenty of notice, and stay until he’s found a good replacement. Stan knows his stuff and is nice enough, but he’s the new guy in an operation that’s been populated with the same people for many years. It’s a little weird having him there, and a little weird to think I’m the one who’s leaving.
I knew I w
as going to miss Larry. He’s been like a father to me and gave me a hand up in this business when I was still pretty young. But I wasn’t prepared to be sad about leaving the rest of the crew, too. All these people matter to me.
Of course, none of that comes close to how I feel about leaving my family. It’s been an interesting month between me and my mother. She seems to want to focus on the good things between us, and I’m okay with that. My grandmother, who is more seasoned in life and less bitter about the accident from all those years ago, is calm and encouraging about the whole thing. She calls it the next big phase of my life and is happy for me.
I’ve had dinner at their place a lot more frequently than I usually do, and it’s been nice even though all we’re really doing is sitting around eating and talking and laughing.
The rest of my time was taken up with packing. Even though it took longer than I thought, and I had more stuff than I realized, it really wasn’t a big deal. Getting my vehicles ready for the move, that was another matter. We talked about shipping the truck and Impala, then Corrine flying to Illinois and us driving together to California on my motorcycle. A motorcycle road trip is on her bucket list. But the way things lined up coordinating everything else, it just wasn’t going to happen, so I promised her we’d take a road trip some other time.
In the middle of all the activities that felt like closing a door, there was also all the stuff that felt like opening a new one. With every step I took that brought me closer to my new life in California, I got more and more excited. I know more and more that this is what I’m supposed to do. The city, the job, the girl. It’s all of it, and it’s exactly what I want.
With Corrine’s help, I picked out some of the more essential furniture for the house and had it delivered before I arrived. I had almost all my stuff shipped down a week before I got there, in one of those moving box crates, and had everything unloaded into the house. Corrine insisted on going down to Swan Pointe the weekend before and getting the basics in the kitchen set up for me, as well as bath towels and things like that. I didn’t even think about having those things ready ahead of time, but she was smart about the whole thing and suggested I pack the essentials in specially-marked boxes so she could find everything more easily.
I put a little package for her inside one of the boxes. A supersize bag of Jelly Bellys, which is her favorite candy, a new journal because she said she needed one, and a card thanking her for everything she was doing and telling her how much I couldn’t wait to see her again.
I had a few conversations with the owner at the Vintage Auto Restoration shop, filled out all the paperwork he needed and faxed that over, and he got me up to speed on the first project I’d be starting for him. During the several hours I spent researching the ins and outs of a 1956 Chrysler Dart, I was drooling practically the entire time. I can’t wait to get started.
And I can’t wait for this long-distance thing with me and Corrine to be over. It’s been such a busy month, there’s been no time for another visit. Between the time I said goodbye the day after Valentine’s, to the day she picks me up at the airport in Swan Pointe 33 days later, I haven’t held her in my arms once. Not once. This time when I hold her, it’s a long time before I let go.
Corrine
The day after Mason arrives, I help him start to unpack. We got a late start, because we slept in late, because we were up late, because we just could not leave each other alone. I’m so excited that he’s finally here, and to stay. We’re both a little giddy with it. And tired. Because moving is a bear.
We manage to get a few boxes unpacked before it’s time to pick up his vehicles from the drop-off point. He’s been talking about it all day, and getting more and more agitated as the time got closer. He spent a lot of time researching shippers, but is still worried about damage.
The semi can’t navigate down the residential streets, so we meet it in the parking lot of a nearby church. He had them shipped in a closed truck, which has two levels on the inside and more vehicles aboard than just his. They unload his truck first. It’s a Silverado that’s only a couple years old, and he uses either that or his motorcycle to get around day to day.
His Harley is next, then he watches carefully as his 1965 Impala convertible is brought down on the lift and unloaded. He spends several minutes inspecting all three inside and out. He even opens the hood on the Impala, then shimmies underneath and checks the engine that way, too. Not until this is done and he’s satisfied that they’ve arrived in the same condition that he left them in, does he sign the paperwork. The driver seemed a little frustrated with Mason’s diligence, but Mason wasn’t letting anyone rush him.
It takes several trips to get the vehicles all back to the house, but once they’re safely in the garage, Mason lights up in a completely new way. He lowers the top on the Impala and tells me all the work he’s done on it so far. Though it’s in running condition, only half the engine has been upgraded to the point he wants it at. The interior has been fully restored, though, and the exterior is a gorgeous deep blue. It’s a cool car and fun seeing all the new, gleaming parts in the engine.
I nudge him with my shoulder. “Car porn.”
He laughs and brings me into his arms, getting that heated look in his eyes. “That’s not the kind of porn I like.”
“What kind of porn do you like?” I feel him growing against me.
He brings his hand under my shirt, traces along my side and up the tender skin of my stomach. “I like the kind I can touch with my own two hands.”
My skin tingling under his touch, I run my fingers over him, lightly brushing over the hard ridges of his abs. “Oh yeah?”
“Yes. I like to touch it here...” He cups my breast, squeezing firmly. My nipple hardens against his palm. “And here.” His other hand slides down my ass and dips into the space between my legs. I feel the hot wetness gathering.
Hands still on me, he kisses me and I press myself flat against him, arms hard around his neck. His stiff erection digs into me, close to my clit. Making me throb.
Time to go upstairs, I think, but he pulls away, opens the car door, and gestures, indicating I should climb into the backseat.
“Not there,” I say mortified. I’m afraid to touch all the expensive, shiny, newness on this thing, let alone do what he’s suggesting. “The seats are new.”
He’s kicking off his shoes. “Then they’re worthy of you. I would never sully that perfect little ass of yours with forty-year-old seats. Come on, baby.” He climbs in, leans against the far corner, and opens his arms to me. “Let’s show this backseat what it was made for.”
Though still uncertain, I’m unable to resist his invitation. I slip out of my sandals, climb in next to him, and glance around at the cavernous space they used to call a backseat. “Wow, these things are roomy.”
He gives me an evil grin. “Too bad for all the horny teenagers in the world that they don’t make them like this anymore.” Then he hooks one arm around my waist and the other around the back of my knee, and pulls me right onto his lap.
I’m giving in, because it turns out this is sexy as fuck. I wrap my arms around his neck, leaning over him, my hair falling in sheets around us. His hands dive into my hair, pulling it away from my face, and he brings me down for a heated kiss.
I settle deeper into his lap. His cock hits me right between the legs. I press against him harder, curling around him more. He comes away slightly and growls, “That’s my girl.”
He removes his hands from my head and my hair falls in a curtain around us as he goes to my breasts. He massages them through the thin material of my bra as we kiss and I rock against him, feeling the damp material of my panties press against my slightly spread folds.
He releases the clasp on my bra, then reaches underneath and squeezes my bare breasts. I lift my shirt impatiently, wrangling my bra off with it, and toss them both over the open side of the car. He puts his wet mouth on my nipple, licking and sucking and leaning me slightly backward. Both of his h
ands slide under my leggings and squeeze my ass.
I claw at his shirt to raise the hem, desperate to feel his bare back under my hands and his bare chest against mine. But he’s not letting off my breasts until he’s good and ready. He goes to the other nipple, flicking it with his hard tongue and circling it.
He squeezes my ass harder, dipping his hands lower, reaching for the good stuff. Still gathering the material of his shirt in my hands, I arch my ass back to give him access. He slips right in.
Head back, mouth open, I cry out. Still sucking my tit, he comes out, and goes for my clit. A zing of pleasure shoots through me as he hits the hard bundle of nerves, then penetrates me again, this time with two fingers.
“Oh fuck,” I say, head still back, hands still clutching the bunched fabric of his shirt. “Fuck. Fuck me.”
He abruptly removes his hands and my head dips forward in protest. His eyes are dark with desire and he slaps my ass so hard the sound echoes off the concrete in garage. “Off with these.”
I shimmy off his lap and stand slightly, his hands on my ribs, supporting me. As I grab the material and push it past my hips, he starts to turn my torso. Before I realize what he has planned, I’m facing the front, leaning both hands on the back of the seat in front of me, and he’s stripping me nude.
Still fully dressed himself, he lifts my left thigh and plants my bare foot on the soft leather seat.
“I want to lick that sweet pussy of yours,” he says, putting his hands on my hips and arching my ass up and back. “I want to suck that clit until you come, then fuck you hard until we both come.”
Then his mouth is on me, and I grip the seat and arch back more in one hard movement. “What? Oh my god.”
Hands on my ass, tongue working me, he spreads my cheeks wide and buries himself in me.
The knee of my supporting leg buckles slightly. I gasp and I lock it. I’m throbbing hard with pleasure. My foot on the seat stretches up on tiptoe as I spread wider and press back against him.