by Ryan Michele
The elevator stopped, and the door opened. Shuffling the contents of the file, I stepped out the door and collided with a hard body that smelled utterly intoxicating. My papers went flying into the air as the folder flew open, but I couldn’t keep from inhaling the spicy, woodsy scent of Dior. It was one of my favorites, so damn sexy.
Glancing up, I met the smoldering gaze of Mason Jones, the senior loan officer on my floor. His warm honey brown eyes met mine, his lips tipping into a grin so damn sugary my teeth ached. Running a hand through his dark chocolate shaded hair, he had that sexy bed hair going on. Long on the top, perfect for running one’s fingers through, but shaved short on the sides; it was perfect.
He was perfect. The kind of man who easily belonged on the cover of a magazine or on bedroom wall posters. Mason had that air about him. Everyone wanted to be around him. All the women who worked in our officed crushed on him. All the guys wanted to hangout with him after work and grab a drink.
Butterflies fluttered in my lower belly. We’d worked together for years, and he’d been a friend of my brothers, but I never had gotten used to how attractive Mason was in appearance. Not that I’d ever tell him that. “You know, Everly. This is a hallway, not a Dave Mathews Band concert.”
My mind registered what he said, but I didn’t understand. “What?”
“Crash into Me.” He grinned, and my brain rattled until it figured out the song.
“The song. Right.” I shook my head, a small smile tipping my lips.
“You like them, right?” Mason asked.
“Yeah. I do.” I went to move around him, noting all the papers scattered on the floor, and accidentally stepped on his toe with the heel of my pump. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t respond as I began to kneel for the papers. Apparently, he decided to do the same thing because our foreheads connected, slamming into one another.
My hand instantly went to my head as I tried to shake off the hit.
“Ow.” He rubbed a palm to his head as he soothed out the collision spot.
Embarrassment flooded me as I reached for his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
“Are you okay?” He dazzled me with his sexy as sin grin, taking me off guard. This close proximity ratcheted up his effectiveness to bring a woman to her knees. Literally. I blinked, starting at his lips. “How hard did I hit you?” His thick digits smoothed over my forehead, the touch gentle and mesmerizing.
My mouth went dry, and I licked my lips, suddenly needing water. “I’m fine.” With a shake of my head, I was able to pull myself out of staring at his lips, but it only led me to the rest of his torso.
Sleeves of his pressed white dress shirt pushed up on his forearms revealed the thick corded muscles and veins. Mercy, I swallowed hard at the sight of his arm porn. There was nothing sexier than a strong man.
Seriously, Everly. Snap out of it!
He began to collect my papers, and I followed suit, just grabbing at them in no particular order. Now was not the time for organization. I’d sort them out back at my desk.
Finishing, he offered me his hand to help me up, which I took. An electric spark coursed through my veins as his hand engrossed mine. His touch was warm and inviting, yet strong and unyielding as well.
I wobbled on my heels for a moment which was something I never, ever did. I’d been wearing heels since my first pair of plastic Barbie pink ones when I was three. Heels were second nature to me, and wobbling told me how much this man threw me off kilter. Not good.
“You should take Mason,” Samantha piped in, snapping me out of my ogling. Crap, I had forgotten she was still standing there. My best friend smirked with mischief burning behind her green orbs, and knowing her for years, it wasn’t a good thing. She loved to stir the pot.
“Stop it.” I cut my gaze on her in warning, telling her without words I was going to kill her, but she smiled bigger, cherry red lips stretching from ear to ear. Damn woman. Sometimes she infuriated me worse than my own sister.
“Take me where, Everly?” Mason pressed, and I sucked in a breath getting hit with another wave of that Dior cologne that made me want to jump his bones and climb all six feet of him like a tree. Why did sexy cologne do that to a woman? Getting out of the situation was a must before I embarrassed myself further. I had already knocked into him, stepped on his foot, and bumped foreheads with the guy. If I stood there any longer, who knew what catastrophe would occur next. My luck I’d grab his crotch, and pull on his balls, or worse if I didn’t get out of there. Normally I wasn’t flustered with people; he, for some reason, brought out all my goofiness.
“Nowhere… I um… I gotta get back to work. I’m late.” I clutched the files to my chest and darted past, glaring at Samantha who took off to her office, winking at me. Yeah, she’d be texting me very soon to give me schtick.
I rushed to my desk avoiding the stares of my coworkers who would be whispering about what a fool I’d made of myself in front of Mason later at the water cooler. There was no time to dwell on it. I had work to do—like finding a date for my brother’s wedding. Priorities, of course.
My brain, however, kept reminding me how good Mason Jones smelled. His handsome smile. The way my body warmed under the gaze of those honey brown eyes. My thighs clenched.
Entertaining such thoughts would lead to trouble. Therefore, I busied myself with organizing my papers, then I had an application to review. I kept my head down appearing to be busy, but I still got a big whiff of Dior when Mason passed by my desk later on that day. I refused to look up until I heard the door to his office close. Only then did the air finally come into my lungs.
Of course I’d always found him attractive, but he was never an option. Mason was my superior, and fraternization, while not against company policy, was highly frowned upon due to the conflict it could create in the work environment. Listen to me. Mason needed to get out of my head.
But still, I found myself unable to focus on my work. Every few minutes I caught myself glancing in the direction of his closed door and wondering how good he’d look in swim trunks. I knew Mason worked out. I’d seen him in action playing baseball for the company league.
Yeah, the man was F I N E—fine, but there was no way I could ask him to be my plus one, could I? No. I mentally smacked myself, then I glanced at his stupid door.
He was not an option.
I needed to get over my stupid crush and smudge a line through the idea of entertaining the thought of asking him. There had to be someone out there. Anyone but him. Not to mention my brother would probably want to kill me if I did. His friends were always a no-go zone, and the same went for mine with him. We had a pact and always stuck to it, but Drake was getting married, and he rarely hung out with Mason that I knew.
I was hopeless.
Everly
Good Mothers Let You Lick The Beaters. Great Moms Turn Them Off First
I’d barely gotten through the front door when Mooch, my pug, came snorting through the living room. Placing my bag on the cushion of the armchair, I crouched to give him a scratch behind the ears. “Were you a good boy today?” I cooed at him and reminded myself I needed to make arrangements for his care while I’d be away for the cruise to St. Thomas. My fur baby got along with Samantha, and she owed me after the stunt she pulled with Mason in the office earlier. She was going to have a house guest for a while.
Kicking off my black spiked heels, I went straight to my bedroom to my walk-in closet to put them away. I was a bit of what people might call a shoe whore. My net worth could be tallied by my extensive shoe collection. I had enough pairs to wear a different pair each day of the week for months. Such was the life of a shoe addict.
I changed out of my work clothes, trading them for a comfy pair of sweatpants and a scoop neck crop top sweatshirt with a tank underneath.
In the kitchen, I rinsed Moocher’s food bowl and refilled it while he danced around my feet.
Buzz. Buzz. My cell phone sounded from my bag in the living room. With Mooch eating
, I went in search of my bag.
Pulling my phone out, I glanced at the screen and saw my mother’s name flashing with her smiling picture. If I didn’t accept the call, she would only keep calling until I picked up. Or worse, show up unannounced. I wanted to relax and not deal with uninvited company. Knowing her, she’d bring some creep she hoped to set me up with. It wouldn’t have been the first time she ambushed me.
“Hey, Mom. What’s up?”
“We didn’t get to finish our talk over Christmas about this new man you’re seeing. I want details.”
Shit. Double shit. I thought she’d dropped that. We’d talked several times since Christmas, and she hadn’t brought it up. “Oh, well, you know I’ve been busy getting caught up at work after the holiday and all. Work has been so crazy. You know how things get at the office.”
“So do I get a name?” I should have seen this coming. So stupid. Why did I lie? Oh, that’s right. My mother was a crazy meddler who thought she was a matchmaker, but in reality, she was like a damn tornado who wreaked havoc on my nonexistent love life.
“Um…” I bit my top lip, not wanting to give her any information, but also knowing she wouldn’t let it go. She was a dog with a bone. “Mason,” I said the first name that popped into my head and mentally kicked myself. I’d lost my mind. Completely and totally.
“And where did you two meet?” she pushed.
“It was a work-related thing. So I don’t know, Mom. It’s new, and we aren’t ready to be public. I don’t want it to cause either of us issues. You know, company fraternization and whatnot.” Another semi-lie rolled off my tongue. While this was true in a sense, it had nothing to do with Mason because that wasn’t happening. I prayed she wouldn’t put two and two together and realize I was describing the Mason she knew as being friends with Drake. This was a disaster. What was I doing?
I hated lying and had never been particularly good at doing so, but in the moment, they filled my head. Mason had been on my mind, and I slipped him into the role of my fake boyfriend, giving details that I knew to be true and fluffing the rest with white lies to keep my story going.
My stomach swam and churned, and I grabbed a pack of acid reducers from my purse, chewing them quickly and swallowing them down with water. Sweat beaded across my forehead, and my palms were all clammy and gross. I didn’t want to disappoint her. I sought my mother’s approval in so many aspects of my life.
She sounded so pleased like somehow my having a man made her proud of me. Which I’d admit seemed silly in itself, but still, I heard the smile in her responses. Out of her three children, I was the only one who hadn’t found that special someone. Not that being in a relationship defined me, but part of me did want to meet the man who’d sweep me off my feet. I’d been on my share of terrible first dates over the years and even dated a couple men seriously, but in the end none of them were Mr. Right. They were simply Mr. Right Now.
My first serious boyfriend in college had screwed me over with my so-called best friend during a time when I needed them both the most. I had recently lost my father, and the last thing I needed in that time of my life was walking in on the two of them screwing. After that, I swore men off for a while, focusing on graduating and finding a job after school.
Then there were my rebound dates. The ones I used to warm me up for getting back in the dating game. Bryce had been nice enough, but there were no fireworks between us.
When I stopped seeing him, I’d met Jonathon, a recently divorced single father who was desperately hung up on his ex and not ready to date. I moved on from him quickly.
Trevor had been great in bed and handsome. He also had a wandering eye. I didn’t need that drama in my life again. I knew he wasn’t serious about me. He’d call, and I’d either go to his place or he'd come to mine, but neither of us ever slept over, and we never went on dates. It was definitely a friends with benefits relationship that wouldn’t go anywhere.
“What’s he look like? I bet he’s handsome.”
“He is. Mason’s tall, dark, and sexy. You’ll like him.” She did like him. She already knew him, but I wasn’t about to admit my lies.
“I’m sure he’s wonderful if he fell for you, my darling girl. Have you invited him on the cruise and made sure he has his passport?”
“I’ve got it under control. He’s been so busy lately, so the trip is kind of perfect timing really. I haven’t had a chance to ask him. But I will when I see him again. He’s been out of town visiting his family. A ski trip. He’s just always on the go. We don’t get to see each other as often as either of us would like. We date through video chats and text messages. Sometimes emails. It depends on his schedule, but I’m sure he can get time off for this.” Man, I was rambling and just knew she was going to call me out on my bullshit.
“What’s he do that is so important? Does he make a great salary? I want to know everything. It’s been so long since you’ve had a man, Everly. You deserve to be happy.”
I rolled my eyes, palms sweating as my mountain of lies continued to grow. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Mhmm.” Yeah, me too. I ended the call wondering how I would get out of this. Mason Jones had no idea the mess I’d just dragged him into unwillingly. I’d find a way out of this mess somehow.
Back in the kitchen I grabbed a skillet for one of those freezer bag meals and dialed Sam, hoping she would have a plan that didn't include Mason.
She answered on the fourth ring. “Hey, whatcha up to?”
I had her on speakerphone, so I could talk and cook. It wasn’t rocket science with these meals. The instructions were right there on the card, and all I had to do was follow them. Cooking for one used to lead me to grabbing take-out on the way home. Then I found these. It was a bit better than the greasy burgers.
“Making some garlic chicken pasta and potato wedges while trying to decide how in the heck I’m going to get out of bringing a fake boyfriend on this freaking cruise. Why can’t Drake elope to Las Vegas, or I don’t know, hold a traditional church wedding where it doesn’t matter who I bring or don’t bring? Why does he have to go all out and be fancy?” I rattled on, spraying the skillet with nonstick cooking spray. Why couldn’t he have the wedding in Idaho or do it at the courthouse? In Mom’s backyard under a tent.
“Doesn’t he know bad things happen on cruises? I watch the news. People get sick and quarantined. Sometimes they disappear. There was that one couple on that murder mystery show the other night. They were newlyweds, and she fell overboard or something, and they never found the body. He thinks she had a fake identity and faked her death. The whole thing’s wild. Cruise ships are dangerous.”
Jesus. I sounded like my little sister. Jess was the one who went on crazy tangents about this sort of stuff; not me. Maybe I could convince Drake that traveling right now would be unsafe and they should wait like say … six months. I mean, surely I could find a date within six months. That wasn’t being unreasonable if I asked them to postpone a little while. In the grand scheme of things, six months was nothing. They’d waited this long.
Man, I sounded like a selfish bitch and needed to snap out of it. This was my brother. To hell with me being comfortable. It wasn’t about me.
“Dude, stop complaining; you’re getting a free vacation. Shoot, I’ll go in your place.”
“What if I said I had chickenpox or mumps … measles?” I threw out there, tossing the potatoes in and watching them brown.
“Haven’t you gotten all your vaccinations?” Samantha laughed as did I.
“That’s beside the point.” I wondered how much a male escort would run me. Or if they had mail-order husbands like brides? I could marry him before the trip then have it annulled… Yes, I had totally lost it and took the first bus to crazy town.
“I doubt your mom would buy that lame excuse.” Hell, I didn’t even buy it.
“Food poisoning?” I challenged, egging it on.
“Ev, be serious.”
“I thought about staging a fak
e breakup the day of the cruise, but for that to work I’d still need to find a fake boyfriend.” I moaned. “I’ve got it. I’ll pretend I’ve broken out in hives.”
“And why will you have hives?” She pressed, and I stirred my pasta.
“I don’t know. I’ll say I’m allergic to people and confined spaces.”
“My trainer’s single.”
“Your trainer?” I rolled my eyes. “That would certainly shock my mother if I brought another woman. But I don’t want to give her a heart attack.”
“Why don’t you just suck it up and ask Mason? He was totally checking you out earlier,” she started.
“No. Hush. Mason doesn’t look at me in that way.” Does he? I wished I could reach through the phone and knock some sense into her, but the gears were already in motion. She’d planted the seeds.
“Hate to break it to you, Ev, but Mason is hot as fuck. I know what I saw and the vibes I caught between you two. There’s chemistry between you. Mason is gorgeous; can you imagine what he’d look like without his shirt on? You’d get to stare at that fine-ass man for what, seven or eight days? I don’t see the problem. I mean, this could be a good thing.”
“You know the company policy.” I finished the sliced chicken and added it to the pasta, ready to eat.
“Who’d tell them? It’s one week.”
“You know I’d be the poor soul to chance something and wind up being the example. They’d fire me.”
“Just think about it.”
I didn’t want to think about it; there were too many repercussions, but there was that little thought of what-if planted in my head of Mason without a shirt on. Mercy. His abs alone were tempting, then you’d add in the rest of him … pure perfection.
Hanging up with Samantha, I dumped my pasta, chicken, and potatoes into a bowl, tagging a fork from the silverware drawer. I poured myself a glass of Moscato and went to the living room. I sat my bowl on the arm of the couch and clicked the TV on to catch up on mindless reality television. The great thing about reality TV, it made me feel like I had my shit together even in a predicament such as this. Moocher pawed at my ankle, wanting me to put him on the couch with me so he could bum bites of chicken.