His jaw drops like I’ve offended him, but the smile breaking across his face gives him away before he tickles my side, making me squirm.
“Not that exciting?” he teases. “C’mon, babe. I’ll make it exciting.”
I giggle, catching his wrist. “Okay, but can I still make dinner for you sometime? Like a real one. I haven’t done that yet.”
I’ve thrown together frozen pizza or microwave noodles with a chicken patty once or twice, but nothing homemade. Not since we got engaged back in December. Between his night shifts and those crazy twelve-to-twelve stretches, we never had the chance. Now that he’s finally on days, I want to try.
Mason grew up on meat and potatoes, meals from scratch. He doesn’t live on freezer food and prepackaged stuff like I do. If we’re going to share a home in a few months, I should probably learn how to make his pan-fried deer steaks and roasted carrots.
“I would love that,” he says, kissing me quickly. “What are you gonna make?”
I hum, pretending to think. “Maybe chicken? Rice?”
“And peas,” he adds quickly, eyes lighting like that makes it the perfect meal.
“Chicken, rice, and peas. Should be easy.”
“Perfect,” he says, kissing my cheek with a grin.
* * *
I’ll never forget the day I met Mason. It felt like one of those storybook moments, the kind you see in movies and tell yourself,No way, life doesn’t actually work like that.
It was October, two years ago. My second graders had been buzzing all morning, too wound up for the police department’s visit. The cops would talk to the kids about safety and then show off their police cruisers.
The second he stepped through my classroom door, I knew I was in trouble. My skin went hot instantly, my eyes catching on him, and the whole room felt smaller.
Six feet tall, broad shoulders filling out his uniform, dirty-blonde hair cut clean, his jaw sharp enough to make my pulse skip. Muscular, steady. And those veins running down his forearms when he shook my hand? Forget it. He was heaven-sent.
His smile was soft but bright, and I wish I could remember what we actually said to each other. It was all business, about the kids and the presentation, but my brain was in a fog.
And then, an hour later, he was gone. One last smile, a quick nod goodbye, and I told myself that unless I got pulled over, I’d probably never see him again. But I couldn’t stop thinking about him. About the way he’d made me feel. Was I just flustered? I tried to tell myself that, but I’d been around plenty of attractive men before. None of them had left me this nervous, this tongue-tied.
Here’s where it gets interesting.
At lunch that day, I talked to my coworker Sierra about it. She teaches first grade, and we’re really close. She nearly choked on her sandwich before blurting out that she actually lives near Mason. Not right next door—you can’t even see his house from hers, since she’s on a farm—butbasicallynext door. My jaw practically hit the table.
She went on to tell me that, as far as she knew, he wasn’t seeing anyone. No kids. Only a few years older than me. Came from a good family. It sounded too perfect, too Hallmark-movie perfect. I kept waiting for the catch. But there wasn’t one. Or maybe Sierra just didn’t know him well enough to warn me.
Still, I made her promise not to say anything to him or anyone.
But just wait, it gets even crazier. A week later, I was walking out of school when it happened. Halfway across the parking lot, juggling my laptop in one hand and digging for my keys in the other, I heard a truck door slam and the sound of cowboy boots hitting pavement.
I looked up to see a white pickup parked across the lot, and Mason stepping toward me in jeans and a dark green shirt that fit a little too well. His smile stretched wide, and I swear my heart jumped clear out of my chest. My stomach nearly flipped inside out.
“I was trying to figure out how to do this without creeping you out,” he said with a laugh. His cheeks and the back of his neck were flushed red, but he was trying his best to look relaxed.
“Oh?” I asked, my laugh nervous as he stopped just a few feet in front of me.
He shoved one hand into his pocket, exhaled, and said, “You wanna go out sometime? Dinner or a movie? Coffee? Nothing crazy.”
He shrugged, all casual, but I could see the stiffness in his shoulders.
My smile pulled wide before I could stop it. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning too hard. “Love to.”
“Sweet.” Relief spread across his face, and then he was digging in his pocket again. His movements were stiff—almost boxy—when he pulled out his phone. He tapped quickly and handed it over.
The contact screen was blank except for one thing—the contact name he’d already typed wasReally cute teacher.
