“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you,” I jest, purposefully turning my head away from the handsome man. He has no right to look that good fresh out of nasty lake water.
“Well, have I ever lied to you? Stolen from you? Harmed you in any way?”
Yes, you’ve stolen my heart, which is quite harmful.“No. But that doesn’t mean I have to trust you when it comes to your version of ‘joking around.’” I risk a glance, and he’s mocking offense by slapping a hand over his heart. I stand up, climb the short hill to our four wheeler, and grab my baggy t-shirt, his shirt, and my water bottle.
“You leaving me now?” he yells.
“Grabbing clothes,” I holler back.
When I return, he’s still sitting in the chair, looking smug as he leans to one side and wears a smirk. I toss him his shirt, tugging mine on over my olive green sports bra and matching workout shorts—my chosen swim attire.
As I’m sitting back down, he says, “What? Is all this too much for you?” He gestures down his body.
Yes.
“Ha, as if.”As if it isn’t…
“Aw, come on, Vroom. You know I’m sexy.”
“I know you’re conceited.”
He leans over, his forearms resting on his knees. “Well, I, for one, am glad you put the shirt on. I’ll honestly say you’re attractive. Especially in olive green…”
The water I sipped on as he began talking comes spewing out in a coughing fit. It takes a moment for me to catch my breath from choking on the liquid. “I’m sorry.Whatdid you just say to me?”
He leans back with a shrug, a smirk still playing on his lips. I’m glad he can’t tell a blush from a sunburn on my face right now.
“You’re attractive. It’s a simple fact. You should know this.”
While my brain celebrates Mason’s confession, I try to calm myself down. He said I was attractive, which I know is true, but hearing it come from him… It’s the best compliment regarding my looks I've ever received. But he never said he liked me in a romantic way, only that my good looks were factual.
Nope. Nothing romantic about a statement like that.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“No compliment in return? I’m hurt.”
I roll my eyes. “Ah, so that’s what this is. You got your pride hurt by Cassidy and now you’re fishing for validation to nurse your wounds.”
The way his shoulders tense and the playful expression falls from his face tells me that I might not be far off the mark with my retort.
“Just joking.” I rush the words trying to play the comment off.
He snickers through a tight smile, standing to his full six-foot-one height. “Well, Vroom. I think you just unintentionally took my ego down a notch and diagnosed the problem.”
An uncomfortable feeling settles over me at his admission. Did he not mean that he thinks I’m pretty, then? I shake the selfish thought process away. “That was quick self-reflection.”
He relaxes and lets out a genuine chuckle. “I’ve got some emotional intelligence inside this male brain of mine. And I can tell by your scrunched nose and the dimple between your brows that you don’t think I meant what I said earlier. So let me be clear,little ma’am.” Twice in one day? Heaven help me…
Mason takes a few steps in my direction, squats down in front of me, and reaches out his hand to pluck a wet strand of hair from my cheek. His eyes are soft but intense. His touch is… Don’t even get me started on the way his calloused fingertipsfeel scratching against my cheek. “Though I was teasing you, you have to know that youareattractive, Karoline. Never doubt that.”
I didn’t realize I had insecurity issues until the moment they disappeared at Mason’s firm, straightforward words. With him still squatting in front of me, I place my hand on his rounded, sculpted shoulder. The heat that burns through the shirt at the touch could warm an Alaskan village in January.
“Thanks, Peppermint. And for the record,” I swallow the fear rising in my throat as I make a love confession disguised as a friendly confidence boost, “you are amazing. Cassidy is insane for not returning your feelings. Any woman out there would be hashtag blessed to call you theirs. You’ve got charm, charisma, good looks, intelligence—apparently the emotional kind, too—and you can sing. You’re a catch, Mason Kane. Don’t let someone else take that confidence from you.”
His lips pull into a beautiful, big smile as he stands. He wraps his arms underneath my armpits and lifts, jerking me to my feet. When he tugs me into a bear-hug, I can’t breathe, and it’s not because he’s holding me too tight.
It’s because I don’t think I can handle not telling this man how I truly feel much longer. I’m tired of stifling the three words I want to scream.
