J.D. is standing in the doorway, his looming height preventing me from seeing anything beyond his broad back.
“Jack,” Sienna says sweetly, nudging him aside. “Let the boy in. Hi, I’m Sienna, Grace’s sister-in-law, and this grizzly is her brother, J.D. Feel free to ignore his grumpy ass. Come on inside.”
When they finally move, I meet Mason’s brown eyes. His dark hair is hidden under a black beanie, the ends slightly curling around the edge. He’s wearing a dark puffy jacket, jeans and what looks like a pair of army boots.
His lips curl in that half smile of his, dimples popping in his cheeks as soon as he sees me. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I whisper back, feeling awkward under the watchful gazes of my family. Even baby Wren is awake and staring.
I think I hear Sienna sigh in the background, but I don’t want to turn around to confirm it. That would mean breaking my eye contact with Mason, and I’m not ready to do that just yet.
“Mason, do you want to have something to drink before you guys go?” Sienna asks him as soon as the door is closed and we’re all filling the small hallway.
He blinks, and slowly turns toward her. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“What I want to know is where do you guys plan on going?”
“J.D.!” Sienna and I chastise him at the same time, but he’s not interested in listening.
“I’m not letting you leave this house until I know where he’s taking you,” he grumbles, making a point of crossing his arms over his puffed-up chest.
“Well, it was supposed to be a surprise…” Mason gives me a quick glance before turning his attention to J.D. “We’ll go to Bryant Park. It should be less crowded than Central.”
My heart does a little flip, but I push it back, instead frowning at J.D. “Now you know, will you chill?”
“Not even close.” He grins extra wide, showing off his pearly whites. It seems like he’s enjoying embarrassing the hell out of me.
“J.D.,” I huff, so ready to be done with this. But J.D. is far from being done. His attention shifts to Mason once more.
“You better take good care of her, and you have to bring her home by midnight.”
“But…”
Before I can continue with my protest, Mason nods his head. “Midnight, got it.”
“Anything else?” I stare J.D. down, hoping he gets that there better not be anything else.
“Go and grab your coat, Gracie. I’ll drive you guys there.” I want to protest, and he knows it because before I get a chance he says, “Don’t fight me on this. I’ll drive you and I’ll come and pick you up at the entrance to the park at midnight. Take it or leave it.”
I look at Sienna, but she just shrugs helplessly. We both know when J.D. sets his mind on something there is little we can do to change it. I turn back to my brother. At least he hasn’t insisted on being our chaperone, so there’s that. “Fine.”
Chapter Three
“I’m so sorry about J.D., he isn’t usually that bossy,” I say as soon as we get to the park. There are quite a few people mingling around, but it’s definitely not as crowded as Central Park is this time of the year. Or any time of the year for that matter.
“It’s all good.” Mason shrugs. “He loves you, it’s normal that he worries about you. I’d be more disappointed if he didn’t say anything.”
There is almost a wistfulness to his tone that makes me look at him.
“Do you have siblings?” I ask curiously. Apart from what I’ve seen and heard them talk about on the court while playing, I don’t know all that much about Mason.
“Nah, it’s just me and my dad.”
“Oh.” I want to ask more but can see a closed-off expression fall over his face, his whole body stiffening. I know that look all too well, so I shove back my curiosity, deciding to change the subject to something neutral. “Did you always like to play basketball?”
He blinks and the grim look is gone from his eyes. It helps ease a bit of worry from my heart. I’m not used to seeing moody Mason. Every time I’ve seen him on the court playing with the guys he had a huge smile on his face.
What’s your story, Mason?
The community center brings comfort and happiness to all of us, to the point that it’s hard to remember that it’s also a safe place. A place we run to in order to escape the ugliness of our daily lives, the ugliness of our homes.
“Yes.” A dimple shies its way out. “From the moment I could hold a ball.”
“I don’t know much about basketball,” I admit honestly, “but you look like you’re really good.”
“You’re more of a football girl, huh?” He looks at me, a kind smile on his face.
“That obvious, huh?” I chuckle, pushing hair behind my ear.
“I think everybody living in the state of New York has at least heard of J.D. Shelton.”
That has my steps faltering as insecurity creeps in. “Is that why you asked me out? Because you wanted to meet my brother?”
“What? Fuck no.” He stops and looks at me. “Wait, do you seriously think that?”
I stop too, because he doesn’t seem like he’ll move anytime soon. I look at him, like really look at him. Do I think that? On some subconscious level?
I’ve met my fair share of fame chasers since it’s become known that I’m related to J.D., but Mason doesn’t look like one of them.
“No,” I say slowly. “I don’t think so.”
“Good.” Mason relaxes a little. “Because I didn’t even know your last name until the moment he opened that door and scowled at me. Even if I wanted to act like a teenage girl meeting her favorite boy band, that was hardly the time.”
I shove him away slightly, and roll my eyes as I continue walking. “What is wrong with teenage girls meeting boy bands?”
“They get loud and obnoxious.”
“You guys are just jealous.”
“Of some skinny dudes who shake their asses on stage and sing of undying love?” He scoffs skeptically. “Sure.”
“So you won’t try to win my affections by singing?” I ask, laughing at the mere idea of it.
“Hell no. I can show you how to shoot a mean three-pointer, dribble the ball like a pro and, if you’re good, I might even throw in some tricks too.” He winks at me and I can feel butterflies erupt in my stomach.
Mason LeBlanc has just winked at me.
I look away, my cheeks turning pink. “I’ll have to take you up on that. Maybe the next time I see you playing?”
“You mean the next time you spy on me playing?”
“What?” My head snaps up, my cheeks beet red. “I wasn’t spying on you.”
But he doesn’t seem offended by the thought. On the contrary, he seems almost pleased.
“What do you call all those times you were at the gym watching us play then?”
“I was just waiting for somebody to pick me up!” I protest, mortified. Does he really think I was spying on him? Did I really look that desperate? Were they talking about me behind my back?