by Kristie Cook
He paused, and I opened my mouth to ask him what the hell he was talking about.
“Can I take you to dinner?” he blurted.
Whoa, nelly. I was not expecting that. I tilted my head. “You mean so we can finish our discussion about Mama, right?”
“Yes, of course,” he said in a rush, and I tried not to be disappointed. How could I get my hopes up that he’d actually asked me out on a date? But then he added, “That and I can’t fathom the thought of not seeing you again. Even for a day.”
I gulped. I might have died a little, too. I know my heart was ready to jump out of my chest and serve itself up on a platter for this beautiful man who’d walked straight out of my dreams. Like almost literally. One of my recurring dreams was of a man as charming and as hot as Dr. Hayes here, who said things that knocked my socks off like he just did. The dreams I had of The One—my soul mate, my true love, the man I knew was out there looking for me just as much as I was looking for him. Could Dr. Hayes be The One?
I wasn’t about to go there yet, but, ohmahgosh, what if he was?
“I … uh …” I stammered, trying to answer him because he’d been looking at me so expectantly after putting himself out there. “You mean right now?”
He flinched, and I immediately felt foolish for asking like that, but then he put his hands on his hips, right where his scrubs hung low, and gave a small shrug.
“Yeah, right now. I know it’s a little early for dinner, call it a late lunch if you want, but I’m starving, and you have a long drive home, and I don’t want you on the roads late. Can you stick around the area for another hour or so and allow me the pleasure of buying you dinner?” He took a step closer to me so we were only inches apart, sending my heart into overdrive. Then his gaze dropped to my lips and lingered there long enough for the need to lick them to become overwhelming. I thought I heard his breath hitch when my tongue involuntarily slid out and over, providing the moisture my lips suddenly lacked. He lifted his eyes to mine, and when he spoke, his voice came soft and smooth, like butter on bread fresh out of the oven. “I know it’s asking a lot, but like I said, I’m selfish. If you have to go, I understand, but if you can stay, you’d make me a very happy man. And I’d make sure to return that favor.”
Whoa. Was that not full of promise or what? And I already knew he could deliver. Just asking me out, saying those words made me giddy.
My mind tried to run through what I still needed to do today, but couldn’t move past the first thing of Uncle Troy’s books. Well, those could be done any time, like later tonight.
“Okay,” I said. “I s’pose I could eat now.”
I was actually starving since I hadn’t eaten since before leaving home this morning. The talk of eating made the hunger pangs more noticeable.
“What do you like? Would steak be okay?” he asked.
Wow. I hadn’t had steak in months. Not since we’d had them as a special at Memaw’s and Aunt Faye had accidentally overcooked an order and let me eat it.
“Sounds delicious,” I said, hoping he didn’t hear my stomach growl.
“Great! There’s a Ruth’s Chris down the street. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes. I need to change.” He gestured toward his scrubs, and my eyes, acting on their own because apparently my brain had lost all connection to my body parts, followed his hands and skimmed down to the drawstring of his pants. The top had shifted up a bit over his muscles, revealing a strip of skin and a thin line of dark hair that led down, under his waistband. My mouth went dry. I almost pleaded for him to leave the scrubs on until I could take them off.
“See you in a few,” I said before anything else came out on its own. I fumbled to open my door, forgetting that I’d locked it since I was in the city. Dr. Hayes took my keys and opened it for me. I slid inside, and he dropped the keys into my waiting hand. “Thank you, Dr. Hayes.”
He groaned, then leaned down between the door and me, once again impossibly close. “Bex, you’re killing me. I can’t be a doctor taking his patient’s next-of-kin on a date.”
What? Was he bowing out now? I stared straight ahead, too scared to turn toward him.
“Call me Mason.”
“As you wish … Mason.”
“Mmm … Say it again.”
Unable to help it—did I mention I’d lost all control over my body?—I turned my head toward him. He was insanely close, just as I’d feared.
“Say it again,” he said huskily. “What you just said.”
Um … “As you wish, Mason,” I whispered.
His mouth pulled into a wide grin, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth, and his green eyes lit up like I’d just given him the greatest gift ever.
“I could listen to you say that all day, every day,” he said. “And I will have you saying it again.” He winked, then bounced up to his full height and stepped away from the door. “See you in ten.”
Damn. Did I have time to stop at a Wal-Mart and buy some new panties? Mine were definitely ruined.
I pulled into the restaurant parking lot a few minutes later and sat in my car, waiting on him and debating on leaving. I couldn’t see this—whatever it was between us—being anything more than sexual, and I really didn’t have time for that right now. I didn’t have time for anything at all, to be honest. Not with Mama and three jobs and everything else. But what if The One came along, and I ignored him because I was so wrapped up in my shitty life? That’s what kept me in that parking lot, waiting: the thought that maybe, just maybe Dr. Mason Hayes was my soul mate. How would I ever know if I didn’t spend at least an hour having dinner or lunch or whatever with him?
A clawing sound at my window startled the bejesus out of me. Mason, now wearing khakis and a dark purple Polo, pulled my door open and held out his hand. Warmth traveled through me as soon as I touched it. He only let go after he closed and locked my car door, and that was so he could place his hand on the small of my back as he led me to the restaurant’s entrance. Once we were inside, I almost turned around and left. I didn’t know what a Ruth’s Chris was, but it was obviously way fancier than anywhere I’d ever been. My self-confidence took a severe nosedive into the shallow end of a knee-high pond. When I saw the prices on the menu, I had to clench my jaw to keep my mouth from falling open. One steak dinner was more than I made in five days of tips. Maybe I needed to reconsider where I worked.
“Tell me about yourself,” Mason said after giving the waitress our order. He hadn’t asked me what I wanted, but I couldn’t imagine anything being bad here. Everything on the menu made my mouth water.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I want to know everything there is to know about you,” he said, leaning over the shiny, dark wood table.
I glanced around the empty dining room. We were their first customers of the evening, probably because it wasn’t quite evening yet. You wouldn’t know it from inside, though. Heavy crimson-colored drapes covered the windows, and the interior lighting was turned low. An employee moved from table to table, lighting little candles inside the hurricane lanterns. Needing something to do with my hands, I picked up my napkin and laid it out on my lap.
I didn’t know where to start. He thought he wanted to know everything, but he really didn’t. Nobody wanted to know the ugliness of my childhood.
“Start with your favorite color,” Mason suggested when I still hadn’t responded. I smiled gratefully.
“Hot pink,” I said easily. “I’m kind of your girly girl, but not really.”
“A typical Southern girly girl?” he asked with a teasing lilt. “Sweet, dressed up, and always wearing a smile while holding a shotgun on her lap as she drives her pickup through the mud?”
I laughed. “Yes and no. I like pink and black lace. My favorite outfit is a sweet little halter top and cut off shorts with cowboy boots … but I also
like miniskirts and heels.”
His leg brushed against mine under the table. “Like you’re wearing right now.”
I laughed again, and it sounded more like a giggle. How embarrassing.
“I definitely noticed,” he said, his voice low. “Those sexy legs stretched out as you leaned against the wall were the first things I noticed.”
“And then what?” I teased as I propped my arms on the table.
His gaze traveled over my face and down, lingering on my chest before coming back up. “Your eyes, of course. But your lips were right after that.”
Again, I couldn’t help but lick them. How come I had that undeniable urge every time he focused on my lips?
“Really?” I drawled, enjoying the look on his face. Like he wanted to devour me.
“I couldn’t wait to hear what they had to say.”
I smiled.
“Or to see that.”
My grin grew while my face heated. I was thankful for the low light because a red face on a redhead wasn’t very attractive.
“Tell me more,” he urged.
“Well, I don’t have a truck, as you know, but I’m not afraid to play in the mud. And I also love to dance.”
“Two-step?”
I groaned. “Not unless you held a gun to my head. Here’s where I stop being the typical Southern, small-town girl you think you have pegged: I hate country music.”
He laughed and leaned back in his seat. “Hate it? All of it?”
“Well, there are a few modern bands I can tolerate, but yeah, pretty much hate it all.”
“So what kind of music pleases those ears of yours?”
“I like some hard rock like Avenged Sevenfold and Godsmack. And what Sissy calls weird stuff like Foo Fighters and Vampire Weekend.”
“Mutemath?”
“Hell, yeah!” I clamped my hand over my mouth and looked around, relieved we were still the only ones in the room.
He laughed then leaned forward again, a new playfulness in his eyes. “I have tickets to next Monday’s show. I’ve seen them before, and they’re wicked awesome live. Especially their drummer.”
“Ohmagosh, I’m so jealous! I’ve seen the videos. I’d do anything to see that in person.”
“Anything?”
I narrowed my eyes. What was he getting at?
“I have two tickets, and my brother couldn’t get the night off, after all. Shame for me to go by myself.”
I gulped. I obviously didn’t mean anything, but the only things I wouldn’t do in exchange for any kind of payment—monetary or otherwise—I’d gladly do with him anyway.
“What do you have in mind?”
He gave me a slow smile. “Another date? I already know this hour with you isn’t going to make me happy enough. I need more.”
I wanted to give him more, too. Except … I frowned. “I don’t know when I’ll get another night off.”
“Maybe you can work out next Monday? Surely your bosses will understand. It’s Mutemath.”
I laughed. “Liz’beth might, but Sullivan’s? They’d think I was asking for tutoring or something stupid like that. Then again …” I trailed off as I considered it. Sullivan’s was closed Mondays. Not a chance I would be on that schedule. And Elizabeth might be willing to let me off after breakfast shift that morning, especially if I promised to see Mama while I was here. Driving home that late was a problem, though, and if I stayed at Mama’s apartment with Sissy, that meant needing the next morning off, too. “I’ll have to see if I can work things out.”
“Tell me what to do to make it happen, and it’s done. Anything.”
“Anything?” I teased.
“Anything,” he said flatly.
The waitress arrived with our food before I could make any suggestions that I’d never expect him to actually do. The subject changed to other favorites, then to birthdays, stories from school—college for him and high school for me—and other light topics. We skimmed over family and barely touched on any history. He only told me that he grew up in a suburb of Philadelphia, graduated high school at sixteen, and put himself through college and med school. He came down here for his residency, and the brother he’d mentioned was a fraternity brother. He made no mention of any real kin, and since he already knew more than I’d ever choose to tell him about my family, I didn’t press for details. I understood everyone had family secrets, and since we’d just met, I had no right to ask his.
We never did finish our conversation about Mama.
“I hate the idea of you driving by yourself this far, in this car, and with no phone,” Mason said when we’d returned to my car. He took my keys from me again to open the door.
“I’ll be fine.”
“I still don’t like it. Is there at least some way you can call me when you get home? Just so I know that you made it?”
I did still have books to do in the park office. “Yeah, I could. If I had your number.”
He fished his wallet out of his back pocket and withdrew a business card from it. When I slid it from his fingers, I couldn’t help but think about how close it had been to his perfectly sculpted ass (scrubs leave little to the imagination).
“Be safe,” he said before leaning down toward me. His lips barely touched my forehead when I leaned my head back to look up at him, causing them to skirt down my nose. His kiss landed on the tip, but when he pulled slightly back, he was staring at my lips again. “You’re seriously trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
“Would you die happy?”
“Only after this.”
His mouth skimmed over mine, but I didn’t let him go so easily. I grasped his bottom lip between both of mine, and next thing I knew, he had me pressed against the car with his hips, his hands framing my face, and his tongue exploring my mouth. Holy. Fuck. He was hot, smart, a damn doctor, and the best kisser I’d ever known. By a long shot, which was saying a hell of a lot. He kissed me like he was doing some of kind of delicate but urgent procedure with his lips to my mouth. My belly dropped. Chills swept over my skin. My thighs trembled, and my toes curled within thirty seconds of his lips touching mine. I had to push him away because I swore I was about to have an orgasm.
“Go,” he ordered, his voice husky and his eyes a stormy gray with desire as he stepped backwards. “Go before we get arrested for public indecency.”
I chuckled giddily. “You think I’d—”
“Not you. Me. I don’t have the self-control to be decent with you a second longer.”
Chapter 10
With my mind replaying the events of the day, the two-hour drive flew by. Once I turned into the trailer park a little before sundown, I barely remembered the drive at all, which was a little scary, because it was like I was there and then suddenly here. I could have run someone off the road and not even noticed. My car’s clock showed 7:42 and I still had work to do, so I parked my car at home and made a beeline for the office.
Sissy and I’d been helping Grams out with her RV and trailer parks since Mama dropped us off when I was nine and Sissy was eight years old. At first, we helped clean up the grounds, but Grams brought us in to help in the office when we started high school. My Uncle Troy, Mama’s big brother, took over the business after Grams passed. Sissy quit to take care of Mama, but I thought also to get away from our uncle. He was a lot less pleasant to work for. Less pleasant as in he was a total asshole.
He blamed Mama for Grams’ death, because she’d died of a heart attack less than a week after The Call. He said her heart couldn’t take the shock of Mama suddenly reappearing in all our lives. Maybe he was right. He often took his frustration with Mama out on Sissy and me, starting by forcing us to move out of the apartment adjacent to the office where we’d lived with Grams for twelve years. He gave us free lot rent for the trailer Grams ha
d given Mama and Daddy when they got married, so at least we had a home right there. I tried not to complain too much. Even though we still had to pay utilities, the free rent saved me over three hundred bucks a month.
By the time I finished the month’s closeout of the books, Grams’ grandfather clock in the apartment where Uncle Troy lived now had chimed in nine o’clock. Before I left, I wanted to check a few things out about Mama on the Internet, and this was my only access to a computer. That’s when I remembered to call Mason.
“I’m here,” I said as soon as he answered, maybe a little too excitedly at the sound of his voice.
“Do you have any idea how close I was to jumping in the car and heading that way to make sure you weren’t in the ditch or something?” He paused with only the sound of a deep breath coming through from his end. “What took you so long?”
“Sorry, but I’m not used to having to check in with anyone.”
Another moment of silence. “Shit. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound like a douchebag. It’s just that I haven’t stopped thinking of you or that smile of yours or those … lips since the moment you left. I hate not being able to call you, even just to hear your voice.”
“Well, you can hear it now. Just don’t ask me to sing. I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”
“So talk to me. About anything.”
I rolled the office chair a bit to the right to grab a pen and paper. “I’m so glad you said that, because we didn’t talk about Mama at all.”
Was that a groan from him? “You want to talk about work, huh?”
Oh. I hadn’t considered that. He was home, likely chilled out for the night, so his work was probably the last thing he wanted to discuss.
“I’m teasing,” he said. “Let’s talk about your mother.”
“Thank you. I wanted to look some things up but I can’t remember all the medical mumbo jumbo you were rattlin’ off earlier.”