“I’d rather not take you past The Lazy Fly right now. That’s where my ball team hangs out after our Friday games. A bunch of them are out front right now. You know how guys are.”
She didn’t waste a glance on his teammates, just started walking. “I suppose I do.”
Assholes avoided, excellent. He pulled Andie tight to his side. “You ever go in there?” He motioned at an independent deli that boasted a nice little restaurant in back.
“Sometimes.”
He waited, but nothing followed. Maybe she hated the place and didn’t want to say so. “A buddy of mine owns this store,” he said as they passed The Sports Net. “If you ever need runners, this is the place to go. Though I’m a big fan of your footwear choices so far, I gotta say.”
“Thanks.”
Another single-word answer. This one came with a phony smile. Something was up, but her arm was still around his waist. Could be nerves about going back to his place. Understandable, their first date had jumped to the fast track within the first ten minutes. Maybe she was having second thoughts. Much as he wanted to bury himself inside her, he was fine with waiting. ’Til the second, third, fourth date—whatever. He’d tell her so before they got in her car. Get rid of any pressure or doubts she had.
“This is mine.” She fished keys from a tiny purse and unlocked a shiny compact sedan. She didn’t get in, didn’t step aside for him to drive. “I think it’s best if I head home. Alone. Sorry if that makes me a tease.”
“That you are not. Not even close.” The most willing, uninhibited woman he’d ever been out with worried that she was a tease. Craziness.
“Okay, well. Thanks for a fun evening.” She’d opened the door and slid inside before the last word left her mouth.
He stopped the door and leaned in. “Hey, you’re not even going to let me kiss you goodnight?”
She tilted her head toward him and puckered up, guppy style, without letting go of the steering wheel.
What the hell just happened? He might not know much about her, but he knew she’d done a one-eighty, and he knew expressions in general. Andie’s face was irritation and impatience. Too bad, because he wasn’t done with her yet.
“I’d like to see you again, for dinner, a movie. Dancing if you want, once your ankle feels better.”
For the longest minute she simply stared up at him. “Would we go out of town?”
“We could, sure.” Whatever she wanted to do, they’d have a great time. He could feel it.
“I don’t think so, Mason.” She tugged on the door, forcing him to step aside or be whacked on the hip by a hunk of steel. It slammed and she lowered the window. “We both got what we wanted tonight. As much as I’d like to enjoy you again, I’m not interested in being anybody’s dirty little secret.” She nodded at his feet. “Watch your toes. I don’t want to be responsible for putting you on the DL. I’m sure your teammates wouldn’t be impressed by
that
, either.”
He stepped back and she took off, leaving him scratching his head in a cloud of parking lot dust. There’d been times in his life when he was too smart for his own good. This was not one of those times.
Chapter Three
Andie hated waking up in an empty house. Too quiet. A few years back she’d have traded anything for this kind of silence. Now it made the thoughts in her head seem extra loud. Mostly, her mind was on last night with Mason. She didn’t regret the sex part. No woman in her right mind would wish that away. The humiliation part, on the other hand, really sucked. Finding out he was embarrassed that his friends might see them together had nearly toppled her. Her guard had been safely in place until he pulled her into that alley. Mostly. Okay, only a little. Dammit.
Enough with the self-pity. She threw off the sheet and tried out the ankle. A bit stiff, but otherwise fine. Good thing, she had five aqua bridesmaid dresses to make for the Palmer wedding three weeks from now. They’d come begging a few days ago, after the groom’s mother realized the job wasn’t as easy as it looked. Ha. Andie loved last-minute gigs like this. More money per dress and less whining from the clients because they didn’t hold the power. Being in control was nice.
In the bathroom, she peeled off her pajamas and leaned over to start the shower. Her gaze snagged on the mirror. She’d seen the reflection of her ass thousands of times. Lord knows she checked it frequently enough, ever on the lookout for cottage cheese dimples and orange peel ripples. No sign of the above, but it was pink instead of the usual never-sees-the-light-of-day white. Had to be from rubbing the brick wall. She hopped onto the toilet seat for a better view in the vanity mirror. Oh, yes. Her knees were worse. Stained and scratched from when she’d lost control with Mason. Control she’d given to him or allowed him to take, the line kind of blurred between the two.
She’d been fifteen the first time she truly made out, and that was…good god, twenty-five years ago. In all that time, she’d never had so much as a hickey. Look at her now. The woman in the mirror smiled back, full of smug satisfaction. She was officially ready for adult-grade dating.
* * * * *
Scott’s cell number lit the phone display around five-thirty. The Blue Jays had wrapped up their afternoon game with a victory fifteen minutes earlier. She hit the talk button, ready for Dylan’s recount. She already knew the details—she’d listened to every at-bat while working. But her baby boy always called to tell her about his day, and that’s what mattered.
“Hey, how was the game?” she asked by way of answering. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too, And.”
Not Dylan, but his dad, his voice dripping with a sarcasm-desperation mix. As usual, he’d shortened her name to a single syllable—one of his habits that irked the crap out of her. One of many.
“Hello, Scott. I hope you’re not talking while driving. It’s dangerous, illegal, and the fine is over one hundred dollars.”
“Nice to know you still care, hon. Not driving. Dyl and I are waiting for a table at The Grindhouse.”
She cringed. She was absolutely not his
hon
. “Put Dylan on, I’d like to hear his voice and say goodnight.”
“He’s in the restroom.”
She took a breath, exhaled quietly. Must be cool, not let Scott win by showing irritation. “And you’re calling me because…?”
“I thought you might like to join us for the rest of the weekend. If you left now, you’d be here in time to catch a late movie with us. I’m sure I could arrange another seat for the game tomorrow. I know how much you enjoy baseball.”
More than she was supposed to, by Scott’s standards. The time she’d jumped up with the stadium crowd in doing
the wave
, he’d turned a shade of purple she couldn’t name. “Thank you, but no.”
“Dylan would love it if you drove out.”
Typical Scott tactics. If bribery doesn’t get the desired result, play the guilt card. And it’d worked at the beginning. More times than she could count. Not anymore, though. Scott had filled her head with so much worry, she’d taken Dylan to a family counselor. Behind Scott’s back. That hadn’t pleased her ex. God, if Scott knew that Dylan had been encouraging her to start dating lately… She shuddered to think what brainwashing he might try on their son. Scott wanted his family photo back in the frame. Period.
“Well, And—what do you say? Come watch the Blue Jays beat the Yankees with us, like old times?”
Like old times. While she missed the family parts of their life together, she didn’t miss Scott’s constant attempts to make her over into his vision of a proper wife. The wardrobe adjustments. Suggestions that she dance with less hip movement. Clap more daintily. Invite
the right people
over for cocktails, instead of her over-the-top best friend.
Nor did she miss the permanent frost that’d settled in their bedroom. Physical contact had become almost non-existent after Dylan’s birth. A consequence she hadn’t foreseen, and one she couldn’t regret, because it had given her—given them—a beautiful baby. But she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life that way, either.
“Is Dylan back from the men’s room yet?” she asked, ignoring the taunting request.
“No.” Scott’s voice switched to its cool, lawyerly tone. “Would you like him to call you later?”
Andie dropped onto the couch with a sigh. “Just tell him I love him.”
“Lucky kid.”
No degree needed to read between those lines. They weren’t having this conversation again, not a chance. She ran a finger over the pink scrapes on her knees. “Goodbye, Scott.”
* * * * *
Everything was done. Appointments, paperwork, tending to boarders and overnight patients. Mason’s mind had been on Andie through it all. Okay, maybe not while his finger was up Trixie’s butt, expressing her anal glands. Other than that, pretty much constantly. He still didn’t know what went wrong.
One of her last comments stuck in his head, though, crystal clear. She’d gotten what she wanted from their date. He’d shielded her from his loudmouth teammates only to have that jerk, Evan, be right about her all along. A cougar on the prowl, simple as that. He hated the term, hated himself for thinking it. Especially about Andie, who really didn’t strike him as the casual hook-up type. Maybe that was wishful thinking on his part. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d been wrong about a woman. This time he wouldn’t get burned.
Hugo met him at the door of his small, wartime bungalow. The cat had his rumble cranked to maximum, out of loneliness more than hunger, since his bowl hadn’t been touched. Looked like Mason had two choices—bring home a friend for his friend, or let Hugo live at the clinic. Yeah, well, no mystery how that one would play out. Some guys enjoyed solitude, to the point of avoiding all commitments like the plague. He wasn’t built that way.
Tonight he’d be surrounded by commitments. Katie and Logan’s engagement dinner—attendance mandatory. His sister had a celebration planned, meaning food, drinks and hugs aplenty. There might even be speeches. God help him if anybody started crying. Yeah, he had a rep for being a sensitive male, but tears… He was still a guy, for fuck’s sake. Seeing women’s faces go blotchy and their noses turn bright red made his cock shrink up like a scared turtle. It was worse than a cold swim.
He strolled in for the six o’clock reservation at ten past seven.
“Big brother, over here,” Katie called from a large table near the window. Her fiancé, Logan, sat next to her, one arm draped over her shoulders. Lucky bastard glowed almost as much as his baby sister. Both sets of folks were at the table, plus the groom-to-be’s sisters and a few close friends. All couples, no singles. Another burn for him.
He scanned the table as he walked over. Some glasses, that’s it. Ah, hell. “You didn’t have to wait for me.” So much for dragging his feet getting here. They should have been into their main courses by now. He planted a kiss on Katie’s forehead, then one on his mother’s cheek. Shook hands with Logan. To everybody else, he nodded. Somebody’d saved a chair for him, directly across from the future Mr. and Mrs. Brenner. Awesome, he got to stare love in the face for the next hour or so. He dropped into the seat and grabbed a menu. Anything to avoid being part of the wedding conversation. Fuck, when did he turn into a bitter asshole? His little sister deserved better.
Mason survived appetizers, dinner, dessert and engagement presents. Barely, and by the grace of a couple pints. Sports highlights on the TV over the bar didn’t hurt, either. The party ended by nine. As the last friends filtered out, Logan excused himself to hit the john, leaving Mason and Katie remaining at the table. And she had the
let’s talk
look.
“You seemed off tonight. Bad day at the office?”
“Everything’s fine. Just keeping it toned down, that’s all. Tonight is about you guys.”
Katie laughed. “I’m going to assume that what you really mean is that you’re thrilled for me, and how lucky my fiancé is, etcetera.” She shook her head. “For such an incredibly smart guy, you can be really dumb with words.”
“Cut him some slack, Katie-Kat.” Logan returned, giving her an affectionate yet scolding look. “You know how guys are.”
“I sure do, baby.” Katie snuggled into Logan’s side, despite the fact that he was on a separate chair.
Didn’t matter that his little sister was twenty-six and soon to be married. When she and Logan looked at each other that way, Mason had to find somewhere else to focus his attention. Logan’s comment about the way guys are bounced around in Mason’s brain while he pretended to watch commercials on the overhead. He said the exact words to Andie last night, when he explained why they should avoid walking past the pub. She’d agreed. Or had she?
“Hey man, you have an admirer. End of the bar. Sat down a couple of minutes ago and hasn’t stopped looking at you.”
With Logan’s sense of humor, the
admirer
could be anybody. Like a huge, hairy biker dude. Mason shrugged, but grabbed a quick look over his left shoulder. Andie, alone. That’d never do. Goodbye resolution to forget about her.
“Have a good night, you two.” He stood, shook Logan’s hand and kissed his sister’s. “And congratulations, kiddo. Logan’s a lucky man.”
Katie’s face lit up. “Much better. Now, who’s the woman that has you jumping out of your seat?”
“Somebody I met at a ball game. And I’m not jumping.”
Katie issued him the raised eyebrow of doubt. “Invite her to join us.”
So his well-meaning sister could cross-examine Andie? Yeah right. “You’ve got better things to do than sit here and make small talk with a stranger. Go home. Plan a wedding. Celebrate—but don’t tell me how.” Mason had known Logan since they were kids, and was well aware of Logan’s adult preference for kink. Hell, he used to envy the guy for some of the stuff he got up to. Thinking of his baby sister in those scenarios made puke rise in his throat. Hypocritical, but true.
He issued a final wave and turned toward the bar. If Andie had been watching him before, she certainly wasn’t now. More like the opposite. He’d bet his last dollar she was deliberately
not
looking at him. No acknowledgement whatsoever when he slid onto the neighboring stool. Her phone must be pretty damn interesting, because she was glued to the screen.