Mason hasn’t said a word or looked at me. I think. I guess I really wouldn’t know since I’m not looking at him, either. But I’m sure he’s as hyperaware of my presence as I am of his when Sophie, Trish, and Layne fall into easy conversation and the two of us remain silent.
A mental battle ensues in my head: ignore him, or rip off the bandage?
Ignore him isalmostwinning when I realize he’s falling back from the group a bit.
Like me.
Sophie glances over her shoulder to see how I’m dealing with this. This time I mouth at her,Never mind,and she kind of rolls her eyes.
Then she pokes out her cheek with her tongue—in a definite reference to a woman having a dick stuffed in her mouth. Because she knows when I’m crushing on a man against my better judgment.
I respond by rubbing my nose with my middle finger.
I can’t help it if my body finds him attractive. It’s just physical. Biological.
He smells like cedar and cinnamon and sex god, for Christ’s sake.
As Mason falls into stride with me, I slow my pace a bit, putting more space between us and the rest of the group so that if he’s about to say something outrageous, our friends don’t have to be subjected to it.
And maybe just to test if he’s actually trying to walk with me.
The others keep chatting as we fall farther behind.
We glance at each other like we’re waiting for the other to hurl the first insult.
“How’s business?” he says neutrally.
“Much better than you’d like it to be, I’m sure.”
“It may surprise you to know, Sierra Daniels, but I wish you no ill.”
I make a gagging, choking sound into my fist. “Excuse me. That was the sound of me throwing up in my mouth a bit. Egregious insincerity makes me nauseous.”
Shit. And now I remember what I’ve learned about him in the last few days, and why I maybe shouldn’t be such a jerk.
Left at the altar.
Parents died in a car accident.
Damn it. Compassion is kicking inhard.
When I sneak a look at him again, he looks down at me over his manly, gleaming beard. I know from experience that it’s silky. I bet he takes really good care of it.
He strikes me as a man who keeps himself nicely groomed and smelling delicious at all times just in case a hot babe wanders by and swoons into his arms. I bet he’s had alotof pussy. And not in a gross way. Just ... nicely seasoned.
I bet he knows what he’s doing in bed.
I bet he’s really good with his hands ...
You know he is. You felt them all over you.
“So, I hear you want to extend your lease,” he says. “Stay in Orchard Cove a while.”
“Yeah. That’s what I hear, too.”
“Then it’s true?”
“That I want to stay in Orchard Cove? Not exactly. That I want to extend my lease at Pier Seven? Yes.”
