“Aside from tossing meat onto a grill, what culinary skills do you have?” she asked, mostly because conversation might distract her from her sudden attraction.
“I can do almost anything with eggs. Spaghetti.”
“Do you make your own sauce?”
“Seriously? No, I buy the sauce.”
“Homemade is better.”
“So is sex with someone other than myself, but life isn’t always that—”
He dropped the wrench and stared at her, his expression horrified. Color bled from his face, then returned, darkening his cheeks.
“I apologize, ma’am,” he said stiffly. “That was unacceptable and uncalled-for. I forgot myself. It won’t happen again.”
Gone was the friendly, sexy smile, gone was the teasing. His body was stiff, his shoulders squared, his gaze direct. He’d retreated to military bearing.
She had no idea what to say to make him feel better. More significant to her, she wanted to see the sexy smile again.
She walked toward him, consciously keeping her body language relaxed.
“I’ve had children, Mason. So the sex thing isn’t all that foreign to me. And yes, I agree, it’s better with someone else, although I have to admit Jase, the cardiologist, was incredibly uninspired. You’d think that a man who spent all those years studying human anatomy would have a clearer understanding of where the clitoris is, but he always seemed lost and then confused when he found it. So sometimes, alone is better. But that may just be a girl thing.”
He swallowed. “I wouldn’t know about that, ma’am.”
“I’m assuming you mean you wouldn’t know about the experience from the female point of view. I’m hoping you don’t mean you’re confused by what a clit is for and how to find it.”
His gaze shot to hers. “I know what it is and what to do with it.”
“Just checking. So we can be done with this now. We’ve both said too much, which evens the playing field. You’re going to stop calling me ma’am or I’ll put ants in your bed. When I get back to the house, I’ll put together a grocery list. Do you shop, Mason?”
“At the grocery store? I do, ah, Robyn.”
“Good. You buy today and I’ll buy next time. How does that sound? We’ll start with steaks, and later in the week I’ll marinate some chicken and pork chops.”
He relaxed a little. “I am sorry for what I said.”
“Don’t be. I’m not that delicate.”
“I don’t want to offend you.”
She smiled. “Do you like pineapple?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I have a recipe for a pineapple-based marinade that’s pretty delicious. It’s Austin’s favorite.” She glanced at Mason. “He’s my youngest.”
“I remember.”
“He’s moved out, but just for the summer. He’ll be moving back in September. Sort of an adulting trial run. I miss him.”
“I’m sure he misses you, too.”
She motioned for him to continue with the barbecue and sat in one of the chairs. “He’s drifting, and it’s all my fault.”
* * *
Mason listened to Robyn nearly as much as he watched her. Not only because he enjoyed the sound of her voice but to make sure he hadn’t totally screwed up what had been a great moment.
Why had he talked about masturbating? In front of her, of all people. He swore silently. It was a boneheaded move. A rookie mistake. Robyn was classy—upscale and beautiful and refined. He should be able to handle that—he’d always been able to assess his surroundings and fit in. Even when he wasn’t comfortable, no one knew. But thirty seconds alone with her and he’d been talking about his dick. Dammit.
“Austin doesn’t have any direction,” she said, her voice low. “I blame myself for that, too.”
“He’s eighteen—that’s on him.”
“No, he’s legally an adult, but no eighteen-year-old is truly mature.” She paused. “Cord and I divorced four years ago. We waited to tell the kids until Harlow had graduated from high school. Part of the settlement was that I kept the house so Austin would have continuity. Same neighborhood, same friends. Plus, it gave Harlow a place to return to on breaks.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Four years ago. Four.”
She seemed a little obsessed with the time thing. He took a seat in one of the wrought iron chairs.
“Harlow went to college. Austin finished high school.” She looked at him, her mouth twisting. “You know what I did in that time? Nothing. Zip. I have a piddly-ass part-time job that doesn’t pay anything. I got a new car because mine was three years old. I kept my membership at the country club.”
Her voice rose a little with each sentence until it approached a pitch only dogs could hear.
“I lived on the payments from my ex-husband. We started the business together, so he’s buying me out. I have no plan, no safety net, no skills, and in six years the money runs out. I wasted four years, so I’m worried Austin learned the wrong lesson from me. I could have gone to college after high school. Lillian and Leo offered to pay for it, but I married Cord instead. So many bad decisions.”
She sighed. “I’ve been thinking about my daughter a lot. She had cancer when she was little. She’s fine now, but for a couple of years, we thought every day we could lose her. After she was better, I didn’t push her hard enough. I indulged and spoiled her because she was alive and happy.”
“That’s not an unexpected response to having a sick kid.”
“I know, but what if I let myself off the hook, too, because of what we’d been through? Did I give myself too much of a break, thinking I endured the worst thing ever? And if so, how do I get myself on track?”
Tears filled her beautiful blue eyes. Tears that made him want to slay whatever dragon might be bothering her. Or at the very least, wash her car. Something tangible that would make her feel better.
That was the guy side of him. The soldier he’d grown to be understood that pity was another way to get lost. Self-pity was a waste of time and effort. Pity made a person feel weak, a slick road to acting weak.
“What are you going to do about it?” he asked a little more loudly than he’d planned.
She jumped slightly. “Excuse me?”
“You have six years to get your life in order. That’s more notice than most folks get. You have money, you have resources, you have time. Come up with a battle plan. Execute. Accomplish. Make things happen.”