Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce (8 page)

Mason slipped into a cycle of fitful dreams and paralyzed wakefulness, all plagued by thoughts of Amy and what kinds of consequences his actions with her would have for him and his family.

* * * *

“Mason. Honey, wake up.”

He opened his eyes, and his mother’s smiling face came into focus. Light shone into the bedroom from the hallway, but it was still dark behind the blinds of his window. He rubbed a hand over his face and blinked rapidly, trying to make his brain function.

“Happy Thanksgiving, sleepyhead.” Mom moved back from his bed and walked to the door. “I need you in the kitchen in twenty.”

Uh-oh. Mom was officially in holiday mode, and he couldn’t clear his head. She flicked on the overhead light and blinded him before closing the door. He groaned and covered his head with his forearm. He felt like he was back in high school, Mom waking him up in time to catch the bus. A soft knock pulled him out of his thoughts. He sat up in bed, his blanket piling in his lap. What now?

“Come in,” he called.

The door opened, and Amy hovered in the doorway. She only paused for a second before stepping over the threshold. She closed the door quickly behind her and leaned against it. Seeing her standing there in his room heated his blood, making him glad for the protection of the blankets. And for the fact that she was clear across the room—well out of arm’s reach.

“I just wanted to make sure things weren’t going to be too fucked-up between us this morning in front of our parents.”

He cringed. Hearing her call his mom and her dad “our parents” freaked him the hell out.

“No…we’re fine.” He hoped. “No awkwardness from my end. We probably shouldn’t have done that, but we did. Can’t change it now.”

She nodded. “That’s good. Because my dad really wants this to work out with your mom, and I would feel terrible if I’d screwed it all up last night.”

The memory of her in his arms flashed through his mind, making his body tense. She’d screwed something, all right.

“Okay. Well, I’ll just see you downstairs.” She turned and left without another word, and he sat in stunned silence on his bed. What had her father said about not running away from things? Clearly there was a side to his daughter that James didn’t know so well.

Mason got up and grabbed his stuff to go shower. If they were going to act like nothing happened, he needed to get his head on straight and stop thinking of Amy naked. He shivered at the remembered feel of her wrapped around his body.

Yes, she’d definitely seduced him. And he’d welcomed it. Now he’d be close to her for the next few days and unable to touch her. He’d already told her what they’d done was a mistake. Maybe if he could convince himself of that, it would help him keep his hands to himself.

As the steam from the shower swirled around him, Mason dried and dressed. He didn’t bother to shave, leaving the smattering of light auburn hair grazing his cheeks and neck. Amy hadn’t seemed to mind the rough stubble last night. She must be an expert with makeup, because he was sure his stubble had left a little bit of red skin behind after he’d kissed and nuzzled her. He looked at himself in the mirror. Dark circles marred the bottoms of his eye sockets, and his eyes were bloodshot. God, had he gotten even an hour of sleep? He’d performed in the office under such conditions before, and he would use all his determination to make it through the day without anyone being the wiser.

Amy had looked delectable this morning. Apparently middle-of-the-night sex agreed with her. Had she gone right to sleep after their little encounter in the kitchen? Her cream-colored skin had practically glowed against the midnight blue of a sleeveless shirt. And he looked like the grim reaper. He shook his head and towel-dried his hair. It was time for him to get downstairs and play nice.

He tossed his stuff in his room and headed down the infamous stairs. Feeling the heat of a blush creep up his face, he ducked his head as he entered the kitchen. Amy had their lists in her hand and was listening intently to his mom. James stood close by and waited for his marching orders. The turkey was already in the sink, and everyone stopped what they were doing to turn and look at him. The glow of early-morning sun peeked through the windows above the sink and the glass of the back door.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” His voice was loud in the kitchen, only competing with the rush of the water from the sink as it cascaded over the skin of the turkey.

His mother gave him an odd look, but Amy and James smiled. He needed to tone it down just a bit, or Mom would know something was up. He spread his arms wide.

“Washed and ready. Where do you want me?” he asked his mom.

She pointed to Amy. “Ask the lovely Miss Easton. She seems to know exactly what she’s doing, so I’ve put her in charge.”

His mouth dropped open. He wasn’t sure he could close it again. Mom was giving over control of the kitchen? At Amy’s raised eyebrows and forced smile, he closed the gaping hole in his face.

“Okay, what can I do?” he asked his new supervisor. If the day hadn’t been proving difficult enough already, it was now going to be close to impossible. He’d hoped he could talk his mother into separating the jobs in the kitchen and put some distance between him and the temptation of Amy. But he clearly wasn’t that lucky.

She looked down at her list. Since he was the one who wrote it, he knew what came next. But he stood there and waited for her to tell him to go chop celery and onions.

She handed him the cutting board. “Celery and onions, please.”

He grabbed them out of the fridge where he’d helped her put them away just hours before. She walked by the stairs and smiled shyly while both their parents were looking the other way. He winked. He couldn’t help it. He was rewarded by a soft blush beneath her cheeks. He set to work on chopping, focusing so he didn’t cut off a finger, and listened to Amy dole out orders. She sounded so sure of herself, so in control, so unlike the overwhelmed woman he’d seen in the wee hours of the morning.

After finishing the veggies, he turned and bumped right into Amy.

“Sorry,” he said as heat zinged through his body.

She shrugged her delicate shoulder, and he wanted to lick his way from there up her neck. He was staring, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. A slight red mark marred her neck. She quickly covered it with her hand.

“So what next?” he said loud enough for his parents to hear. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize…” he whispered.

“It’s okay,” she murmured back. “Fry ’em up,” she said, louder.

She moved back from him, taking her hand from her neck and getting back to work. As the four of them worked in the kitchen, he couldn’t help the bloom of holiday cheer that took root in his chest. Two pumpkin spice candles sat on the counter behind the sink, spilling an aroma into the kitchen that he would forever associate with his home and his family. He’d always been a sucker for family time, for the love that his mother brought with her wherever she went. Today it permeated the air in the kitchen, surrounding him with the certainty that while he might have made the wrong move with Amy last night, this morning was more important and seemingly untainted by his idiocy. As long as he kept it a secret.

A pang of sadness wrapped around him at knowing the rest of his family wouldn’t be there this year. He would miss Elly and Dan, but probably not his father. He pushed the feelings aside. If Amy could overcome the loss of her mother at such a young age and deal with not having her mom around for every birthday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas thereafter, he would be okay without his little sister and older brother for one holiday.

He couldn’t help but follow Amy’s movements around the kitchen and delight in every order she gave. Letting Amy run the show seemed to please both women. James took direction well from his daughter, and the way he looked after Mom, helping her, warmed Mason. A few times, melancholy darkened James’s face, and Mason wanted to give him a hug. But Mason didn’t know him well enough. Nor had James shared the painful history of losing his wife with Mason. He didn’t think the other man would appreciate Amy’s telling of that tale or Mason’s interference.

After the turkey was in the oven and the smells of the kitchen overwhelmed him, he couldn’t stop thinking about getting Amy alone again. She excused herself for a moment, and he practically ran out of the room after her.

He followed her into the living room where he found her sitting on the blue sofa, her head in her hands. He could hear his mother and James talking softly in the kitchen, but he put them out of his mind. He sat beside Amy on the sofa.

“What’s wrong?”

She sniffed. Tears had streaked her mascara in dark lines down her face. “Nothing. It’s… God, it’s fucking perfect.”

Her shoulders shook with a sob, and she shoved her fist in her mouth. He tugged it gently from her lips and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles.

“What if I mess it all up? What if dinner is terrible? God, I don’t want to ruin this,” she said.

“Shh.” He pulled her into his arms and sighed. He’d wanted to do that from the moment she walked into his room nearly two hours ago. He rubbed the soft shirt on her back. It was just as smooth beneath his fingers as he’d imagined. “It’s going to be fine. Things are going well in the kitchen. And if you misstep, Mom and I will help get things back on track.” Was she really worried about the meal, or was she using that as an excuse? He didn’t know if he should broach the subject of her mom’s absence. That had to be at the root of her anxiety, right?

He’d never dealt with that kind of loss, and he didn’t know what to do. Except point out something good about the holiday.

“Your dad’s doing well. Do you think he’s having a nice time? My mom and her holiday craziness can be a bit much, but sometimes it rubs off on others. And she’s genuine in her holiday cheer. She doesn’t love any time of year more than Halloween through New Year’s.”

Amy nodded against his chest. “I’m sorry. I am
never
like this. I don’t…” She looked up. The impact of her soft hazel eyes slammed through him.

“Cry? Why not?”

She shook her head. “Because it never does any good.” She sat up straight and pulled back from him, physically and metaphorically.

“Yeah, but sometimes you just need to cry.”

“Right,” she said. But he could tell she didn’t believe him. He could practically see the walls coming up around Amy, shutting him out and hardening her vulnerabilities.

They might not have another chance to really talk before his brother showed up and the holiday craziness exploded, but she seemed so exposed right now. It wasn’t the right time, but he feared they wouldn’t get another shot.

“Look, Amy, about last night. I know I said it shouldn’t have happened, and honestly it so shouldn’t have. I know better than that. I don’t do so well with the whole, um, sex thing.”

She laughed. Oh, great. He was really screwing this one up. She wiped the tears and mascara smudges from her face. At least he’d made her laugh instead of cry more.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you. The first time or the second.”

“You may have done the initial kissing, but I most definitely got naked first. And I’m glad I did.”

So was he. But he couldn’t be selfish like this. He couldn’t give her anything more than a few days. His mother would be furious with him when she found out he’d done even that much.

He wanted to tell Amy they should break it off, but she was dealing with enough. He wouldn’t burden her further by sharing his worries about disappointing his mother. It wouldn’t really be Amy she was upset with anyway, but something told him Amy would take it upon herself to feel responsible.

She sauntered back into the dining room just as the front door banged open and his brother walked into the foyer. Great, just what he needed. Another family member added to the mix of the most screwed-up holiday he’d ever lived through. He hoped he’d make it to the end of the weekend.

Amy looked back at the list—her lifeline in the midst of a buzzing kitchen. Mason walked through the swinging door with another guy trailing behind him. Martha shrieked and ran across the kitchen, pulling him into her arms. That had to be one of her other sons. Lewis. She could see the family resemblance, and a slice of pain slithered through her. She’d never had that. Someone who looked like her. A brother or a sister to share secrets and childhood silliness with. Her dad stepped closer to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

She smiled and squeezed his fingers.

“How ya doin’?” she asked.

“Good. Really good. Ames, thank you so much for badgering me into coming down here. I’d forgotten what holidays could be like. I’m so sorry we didn’t do this sooner.” His voice was low, choked with emotion, and she almost broke down in tears again. Some of the crushing weight around her heart lifted. He was glad they were here.

But this wasn’t the time for that conversation. She shook her head. Her father was ready to rejoin the world of the living and not continue on as the shell he’d become, and she was overcome with happiness at the news. He’d slowly come back to life the past few months as he talked to Martha on the phone almost every day. He’d begun singing again. Started leaving the house more and more.

Martha turned to them. “This is my son, Lewis,” she said.

Lewis resembled Mason a bit in his coloring. Same lightly tanned skin, same reddish-brown hair, and almost the same eyes. But where Mason’s were hot—with either passion or anger—Lewis’s were cold. He wore a University of Texas Longhorns sweatshirt and jeans. And he looked like he’d swallowed something sour. Shit.

Amy reached out to shake his hand but let her own quickly fall back to her side when Lewis didn’t move to take it.

“I’m Amy, and this is my father, James.”

Lewis looked at the four of them and shook his head. “What the… No, I can’t even… Screw this.” He turned from them and went back out the way he’d come.

Martha sighed and hustled after him. James glanced at Amy and gave her a weak smile. Lewis was going to be harder to convince than Mason that she and her father weren’t home wreckers. And she certainly wasn’t going to seduce Lewis.