by LuAnn McLane
“Good to know,” Grace said in a breezy tone, but she believed him. Although Grace had been taught by her mother to be independent, something about having Mason protect her made her feel warm in spite of the damp clothing.
“I’ll keep an eye on the weather.”
“Keep both eyes on the weather.”
Mason chuckled. “Okay, I will. I think you’ll find everything you need in the bag. The bathroom is over there on the left.” Mason pointed over his shoulder. “As a reward, I’ll get you a bottle of ale while we wait out the storm.”
“A storm that could spawn a tornado. I guess if I’m going to go flying into the sky, I might as well have a beer in my hand.”
“I’ll drink to that. So what do you prefer? Something mild? A brown ale? An APA blonde?”
Grace had to hide her grin. She could tell by his expression that he thought she was a wine or martini kind of girl, and while he was right, about a year ago she’d gone to a beer-tasting festival with some girlfriends and been surprised at how many she’d enjoyed. “Actually, Mason, I’m a fan of something dark and more intense.”
“You don’t say?” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his boots. Since when did she find work boots sexy? Since right now.
“Do you like chocolate?”
“More than breathing.”
“Well, then, I’ve got you covered. I’ll bring you a light medium-body porter that delivers lots of chocolate flavor.”
“Sounds amazing.”
“I hope you’ll think so. It took me a few tries to come up with something I liked,” Mason said, and then turned away.
“I’m sure I will. . . .” Grace’s voice trailed off softly as she watched his progress. Something warm and delicious washed over her, and she was startled to realize that the foreign feeling was desire. Her mother had been right. She’d been working so hard on Girl Code Cosmetics for the past two years that romance hadn’t entered her mind all that much, but it had just resurfaced with a vengeance. Grace was surprised her clothes didn’t steam dry right there on her body.
Grace was surprised by her instant reaction to Mason Mayfield. She usually took a while to warm up to a guy, starting with mild attraction that lead to conversation and then maybe a date. As she walked toward the bathroom, she mulled over her attraction to Mason. Perhaps she was used to city-living metrosexual men who, by contrast, made country boy Mason seem so virile.
Just hormones, Grace thought, trying to shrug it off.
Regardless, Mason was one sexy man. She opened the door and flipped on the light, but then made the mistake of looking at her reflection in the mirror. “Holy hell, I look like I’ve already been through a tornado,” she said, thinking that the instant attraction most likely wasn’t mutual.
“Oh, stop,” Grace said, reminding herself that she was only in Cricket Creek to help Sophia out at Walking on Sunshine Bistro and to visit with Garret while they all waited with bated breath for his baby girl to arrive. According to her mother, Garret and Mattie hadn’t settled on a name yet, even though her mother had tossed endless suggestions at them. After the birth of the baby, Grace would most likely move back to London, where she would start up another company now that she’d sold Girl Code, her wildly successful line of edgy urban cosmetics. Getting involved with anyone local, including sexy Mason, wouldn’t work out in the end, and she needed to remember that important fact.
With a groan, Grace peeled her wet clothing off and then dug inside the plastic bag to see what he’d brought for her to change into. She located white sweatpants with Mayfield Marina scripted in green lettering down one leg. A light green scooped-neck T-shirt and matching hoodie were in the bag as well. “Nice,” she said with a smile.
After slipping into the dry clothing, Grace dug around in her purse for a comb and any cosmetics she could find. A few minutes later, she’d pulled her hair back into submission and added some eyeliner and lipstick. Wrinkling her nose at her reflection, she said, “Well, that’s as good as it’s going to get.”
And then the lights went out.
For a moment, Grace simply stood as still as a statue while thinking in a rather calm manner that she’d never experienced such pitch-black darkness. Surely her eyes would adjust and she’d be able to see enough to make her way out of the bathroom. She blinked and then squinted, but she couldn’t see anything. She did the classic holding her hand in front of her face. Nope . . . nothing.
Grace considered herself to be a pretty brave person, but she’d never been a fan of the dark. To this day, she had a night-light in her bathroom. Grace swallowed hard and her heart thudded. Should she yell for Mason? No, surely he’d come looking for her in a few minutes. After all, he knew where she’d gone, Grace thought, and then snapped her fingers, remembering that she had the flashlight app on her smart phone. She fumbled around, bumped into the sink, hit the toilet seat, and came up against the the wall before finally locating her purse. “Yes!” she said when she found her phone, but her triumph was short-lived when she realized that her battery was dead.
With a growl of frustration, Grace decided she needed to exit the bathroom and give a shout for Mason. She dropped her phone back into her purse and located the doorknob, somehow thinking that when the door was open, she’d have at least moonlight shining through the windows or something.
Nope . . . just darkness. “Oh, well . . .” Grace hefted her purse over her shoulder and took a baby step forward, but then remembered the big vat of frothy stuff and decided to stay put and shout for Mason. She inhaled a deep breath, thinking she needed some volume and then spotted a beam of light coming her way. “Oh, there you are! Thank goodness!”
“Sorry. I had to look for a flashlight,” Mason said as he reached her side. “I hope you weren’t too scared.”
“Oh, of course not,” she said, barely resisting the urge to grab his arm and cling. And then she heard the wail of sirens. “Oh, no!” She pictured a funnel cloud twirling toward them like in The Wizard of Oz. She could hear the howl of the wind and pinging against the windows. “Mason, what should we do?”
“Go into the bathroom for shelter.”
Grace nodded and then heard something that sounded like a freight train coming their way. She reached for his arm. “Mason, what is that horrible sound?”
“Let’s hope it’s not a tornado.”
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