The Price of Mason
Page 39
“Yes!” she cheered, holding up a plastic container full of apples before opening the package and popping one into her mouth.
When she held up a second slice for me to take a bite straight from her fingers, my heart thumped hard in my chest.
“Mmm,” I moaned, closing my eyes slightly as I chewed. “I don’t know what it is about you, baby, but food always tastes better when you feed it to me.”
She smiled, only for the grin to fade as she watched me.
Worry knotted my stomach. “What?” I asked.
With a sad sigh, she asked, “Are you upset that I let all your new friends at the bar think you’d really slept with Mrs. Garrison?”
“What?” I repeated, totally confused.
“When she showed up last week, I made it sound like you had had sex with her in September. And you played along with it.”
“Yeah,” I said slowly, “because you still don’t want Eva to know the truth.”
“That’s right.” She pointed at me, grinning. “That’s exactly why I did it, but then later…” Her smile fell. “I realized—or rather wondered—if maybe I’d embarrassed you in front of all your new coworkers. I know you like those guys, and it had to be pretty awful for you to let them think you were a cheater or something. I feel so crappy for doing that to you for my own selfish reasons. I’m sorry; I didn’t even stop to think at the time what I was doing to you. You must be so mad at me for—”
“Reese.” I took her hand to stop her flow of apology, and then I leaned in to gently press my lips to hers. “That didn’t even occur to me. Don’t worry about it. Okay?”
She nodded but still looked concerned as she bit her lip. “And then I wondered if you thought I was beginning to question the truth myself. Maybe you thought that since Mrs. Garrison showed up, trying to play off a pregnancy scare, that I was beginning to wonder if maybe you had slept with her after all.”
I sighed and focused my attention on our clasped hands. “So you didn’t waver?” I asked. “Even a little? You didn’t think maybe it might be true after all?”
“Oh, Mason.” Cupping my face in her hands, she smiled at me tenderly. “You stupid idiot. Of course I didn’t waver. I trust you. And besides, let’s not forget it wasn’t even you I heard the truth from in the first place. It was from Mrs. Garrison herself. So it wasn’t even you I had to question. Please stop being so paranoid. I love you. I haven’t stopped loving you. You are the most important person in my world. It hurts to see you doubt that.”
“Oh, God, Sweet Pea, I’m sorry,” I gushed, realizing I’d let her down in more ways than I’d originally thought. Pulling her into my lap, I buried my face in the nook of her shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to doubt you. I just… You’re my world too. And she threatened my world. I couldn’t seem to see past that enough to remember you do love me, and no matter what she tries to do to tear us apart, you’re not going to stop. Not because of her. We’re stuck together now, until death do us part.”
“Damn straight,” she murmured, kissing my chin. “So please stop apologizing. I knew you were rattled. It rattled me too. You just needed a little time to get your bearings back. I knew that.” Smiling, she traced her fingers along my jaw. “And it seems you’ve gotten them back now.”
“I have,” I assured her. “Thank you for waiting for me. I love you for it.”
“You’re welcome.” With a grin, she added, “And thank you for finally pulling your head out of your ass. It’s about freaking time.”
I laughed and tickled her. Screaming out a giggle, she squirmed on my lap before growing suddenly still. “Mason!” With an indignant gasp, she glanced around the park before sending me a stern, wide-eyed glance, silently scolding me.
“What?” I asked, honestly confused.
“We’re in public,” she hissed, beginning to blush, just before she shifted, rubbing her ass over my thigh, right where she was sitting on… Oh shit, the ring box.
“Wait! Don’t.” I tried to lift her off it, but she seemed to realize the hardness under her wasn’t what she’d originally thought it was.
“What is that?”
She popped up off me to investigate.
“Nothing,” I started, grinding my teeth. “Don’t!” I cried, panicked when she reached for the lump. “I haven’t figured out how to ask yet.”
“How to ask what?” she demanded, batting my fingers out of her way so she could plunge her hand into my pocket. “What the hell are you hiding in there?”
“Will you just—Argh!” I scowled at her and threw my hands in the air the moment she pulled the ring box free and was gaping at it in her palm. “Great,” I muttered. “Now what’re we going to tell our grandkids? No, Grandpa never even proposed. Grandma just jerked the ring straight from his pocket, and that was that. What the hell kind of interesting proposal story is that?”
“The best kind ever!” Reese screeched before shrieking in joy and throwing her arms around my neck to kiss me all over the face. “Oh my God. I love you, I love you, I love you. It’s about damn time you gave this to me. I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind.”
“About wanting to spend forever with you?” I asked incredulously. “Never.”
“Thank goodness.” Shoving the box at me, she demanded, “Put it on, put it on.”
“But, uh…” I lifted my eyebrows innocently. “I don’t think it’ll fit me.”
“Mason,” she growled, no longer playing around.
I laughed, moisture gathering in my eyes. “Okay. Fine,” I murmured, opening the box. “I’ll put it on you.” I think my hands shook as much as hers did because we were equally excited as I slipped the ring over her fingernail and slid it down toward her knuckle. “God, I can’t believe this is really happening.”
“I know,” she murmured, smiling lovingly as she pulled her newly ringed finger against her chest, holding it to her heart. “It’s too good to be true. Oh! Wait. I have just the thing to tell the grandkids. Grandpa didn’t even have to ask.” Whipping her hair over her shoulder dramatically, she sent me a smoldering look before adding, “He just looked at her, and she said yes.”
Laughing, I shook my head. God, I loved how she could make me laugh, almost as much as I loved her.
“That is so corny,” I answered before tweaking her nose and admitting, “It’s perfect.”
* * *
The End
But wait!
There’s more
Thank you so much for reading Mason’s point of view. Even though it was probably the hardest book I ever wrote, I’m pleased I was able to finish it and share it with you.
This officially concludes the Forbidden Men series, but I’m excited to give you a few novellas right now, showing you what became of some children from the Forbidden gang.
But first, here’s a list of descendants so you’ll know who belongs to whom.
And if you’d like to see a timeline or family tree for more clarity, here are two links you can check out as well!
* * *
Forbidden Family Tree: http://lindakage.com/fmtree.jpg
Forbidden Timeline: http://lindakage.com/fmtimeline.pdf
* * *
Hugs, Linda
Descendants of the Forbidden Men
BOOK 1 and 10
Price of a Kiss / The Price of Mason
Mason and Reese
Gracen Lowe – (twin to)
Isabella Lowe, aka Bella
* * *
BOOK 2
To Professor, with Love
Noel and Aspen
Beau Gamble
Lucy Olivia Gamble
* * *
BOOK 3
Be My Hero
Pick and Eva
Julian Ryan (featured in Off Balance)
Skylar Ryan
Chloe Ryan
Patrick Mason Ryan, aka Trick
* * *
BOOK 4
With Every Heartbeat
Quinn and Zoey
Lucian Hamilton, aka Luke
* * *
BOOK 5
A Perfect Ten
Ten and Caroline
Teagan Tenning (featured in Once Upon a Canoe Trip)
* * *
BOOK 6
Worth It
Knox and Felicity
Cynthia Bentley Parker, aka Bentley
Fox Arrow Parker
* * *
BOOK 7
The Girl’s Got Secrets
Asher and Remy
Aurora Jane Hart, aka Rory (featured in Playing to Win)
Riley Ann Hart
Ayden Elisa Hart
* * *
BOOK 8
Priceless
Sarah and Brandt
Haven Dawn Gamble (featured in The Revenge Plan)
* * *
BOOK 9
Consolation Prize
Colton and Julianna
Colton Cress Gamble, Jr., aka Cress
* * *
And now for a few short stories about
the Forbidden Men descendants!
Part Two
Off Balance
For Harper,
the beautiful dancing boy from the Philippines,
whose mama got her wings about the same time mine did.
Here’s the story you wanted me to write.
Chapter One
Julian
As soon as the shrill hiss of a whistle split the air, I knew I was in trouble.
“Ryan!” Coach’s voice made me wince from the grass, where I lay on my back, half-dazed from the fall I’d taken. I winced up at a bright blue sky, complete with cheerful puffy clouds, and knew this was it. I wasn’t making the team. “Get your ass over here now.”
You know, the clouds really should be a lot more downcast and dreary gray to go with the chewing out I was about to receive. Getting cut from the team on such a nice, bright, perfect day didn’t seem very fitting.
Sitting upright, I groaned in pain and swayed unsteadily before pushing the rest of the way to my feet. My helmet had slammed pretty hard into the ground that time, leaving my ears ringing and the world looking slightly out of focus. Hope I didn’t have a concussion.
A few players snickered as I hobbled past. “Dude, thanks for falling down before I could even tackle you,” a defensive linebacker called. “Makes my job a hell of a lot easier.”
Ignoring them, I picked up my pace and jogged to the coach, releasing my chinstrap and taking off the helmet that hadn’t felt as if it had protected shit.
When I reached him, he stepped in close and lowered his voice. Since he was friends with my family, that was probably his way of having mercy and trying to be discreet so the others couldn’t hear how badly he was about to rip into me.
Then he asked for my ears alone, “You okay?”
His uncle-like concern made me wince. I bet any other coach would’ve gone straight into the yelling and lecturing part.
“I’m fine,” I mumbled, kicking moodily at a clump of turf. Sure, I was fine; fine for anyone who was so lousy at something they loved as much as I loved football.
“Good, good.” Nodding, Coach pointed toward the rest of the team as his assistants lined them up for another play. “Then would you like to tell me just what the fuck that was?”
“Uh…” Cringing, I rubbed the back of my neck as it heated with humiliation. “I tripped.”
He blinked once, twice. Then his eyebrows shot up. “You tripped? Over what?”
My wince turned into a gulp before I mumbled, “My feet.”
“Christ, kid.” Sighing, he stepped back and ran a harassed hand through his hair.
On the field, the quarterback who’d replaced me hiked the ball, and the center snapped it to him, causing the offensive and defensive lines to rush at each other, helmets clashing, bodies impacting, grunts cursing. The new quarterback, blessed with a grace and agility that made me sniff with bitterness, reversed smoothly before planting his feet and winding back his arm to launch the ball to a receiver. Too bad he hadn’t lost his balance and gone tumbling onto his ass the same way I had when I’d tried that same exact maneuver. Though I did get a small jolt of satisfaction when he couldn’t quite connect with the receiver, and a safety intercepted the ball instead. If I hadn’t fallen on my ass, I would’ve made that pass. No problem.
“What the hell are we going to do about you, Julian?” Coach said in exasperation, shaking his head over the pick on the field as he turned back to me. “You’re the fastest kid on the team, you have the most accurate throwing arm, and you might be more dedicated and determined than any player I’ve ever coached before. But you have absolutely no coordination or balance in your damn feet. It’s like something is blocking the path from your brain to your toes. You fall down more than you can stay upright.”
“I know.” Heaving out a depressed breath, I bowed my head as I shook it shamefully. “I’m sorry.”
“Camp ends at the end of this week. Try-outs are in a month. And you are nowhere near good enough to make the cut. I know how much you want this, Julian, and how hard you’ve been working for it. Pick is literally going to kill me if you don’t make the team.”
At the mention of my dad, I glanced up. My father was basically the coolest, most chill guy on the planet. Nothing pissed him off, unless you wronged one of his kids. But this was not one of those situations.
“He won’t,” I assured, knowing my dad. He wouldn’t blame the coach at all. And honestly, he wouldn’t blame me either. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even be disappointed. He wasn’t one of those sports-fanatic or even pushy dads. Honestly, he probably only got into football these days because I was obsessed with it.
“Well, it’ll break my heart if you don’t make the team,” Coach muttered moodily. “So I’ve come up with a plan that might just work.” Then he winced and added, “If you’re willing to try it.”
I perked to attention, only to frown over that last part, because…willing to try it? What the hell did that mean?
“What’s your plan?” I hedged suspiciously.
He sighed, obviously nervous about telling me, which only put me more on edge. Jesus, what did he want to do with me, perform a lobotomy?
“Look, I’ve been doing some research, and I think I’ve come up with an idea to help with the balance and coordination thing.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, rolling my hand to convince him to spill it already. “What?”
He winced and rubbed the back of his neck before mumbling, “Dancing.”
My eyebrows lifted and my head cocked to the side, because I swear I’d just heard him say dancing.
“Come again?” I murmured. Damn, how hard had I cracked my head on that last play? Did I have a concussion? Why was I suddenly hearing the word dance come from my football coach’s mouth?
He lifted a hand as if I were going to argue with him, which I hadn’t planned on doing, because I was still waiting for him to tell me what his real plan to fix me was. “Just hear me out. The article I read says it can help football players in a lot of ways. It’ll boost your core strength, leg strength, foot strength, and most importantly...your coordination.”
My mouth fell open. Well, hell. He was serious. He was really fucking serious. He expected me to take a dance class. I mean, I had no issue with dancing, personally. It was perfectly fine for anyone else to take one or twelve of them. I even enjoyed watching my sister’s recitals. But it was most certainly not my thing.
Because I couldn’t dance. Like at all. It was beyond pathetic, I was quite aware. I blamed my birth mother entirely, as I always liked to do when I wasn’t good at something.
So, of course, I said, “No fucking way.”
Coach was quiet a moment, studying me with his arms crossed over his chest. Then he dropped the bomb, announcing, “I already enrolled you in your sister’s class.”
“What? You can’t do that.” Could he?
“I did,” he assured, nodding. “Pick even paid for it.”
Fuck! Dad was in on this too? That traitor! He knew I had absolutely no rhythm. He’d seen me turn Mom and both of my sisters down numerous times over the years when they’d tried to get me to even play around and dance in the living room with them. I was seriously that afraid to even attempt it.
“Noel,” I whined. “Seriously, man, please don’t make me do this. I’m just going to humiliate myself.”
With a sympathetic cringe, he slapped a hand onto my shoulder. “You know I can’t make you do anything, but I really think you should. So it is my strong recommendation that you at least try it.”
Fuck. I was going to try it. I’d never been good at letting people down, and not even trying would totally let Coach down. Must be some inherent need to please people I’d developed back from when I was three months old and my birth mom had decided I wasn’t good enough for her, so she’d fucking abandoned me with Pick—who’d only been my stepdad at the time—because I guess running off, overdosing on drugs, and dying alone in a dirty, dark alley had sounded so much better to her than sticking around to take care of me.
Thanks, birth mom. Appreciate the abandonment issues. Now I was going to have to take fucking dance classes because of it and end up looking like even more of a loser than I already did.
“Okay, fine,” I muttered, already regretting it. “But Skylar’s class?” I cringed. “She’s been in some dance class or another since she was four years old. There’s no way I could keep up with an advanced group like that.”