She went to work, prepping the salsa and leaving it out for the flavors to meld. She would make the guacamole last. She combined chili, garlic and onion powder along with oregano, paprika and cumin to make taco seasoning and put it in a jar. She’d just started dicing onions when Mason walked into the kitchen.
The second she saw him, she dropped her knife onto the counter and walked into his outstretched arms. He hugged her tight, holding her as if he would never let go, which was exactly what she needed. She clung to him, pressing her face into his shoulder.
He felt good—strong and steady. She ignored the tingles and jolts that came from being this close to him. Right now comfort was more important than sex.
“Did we get a ghost?” he asked, speaking into her ear. “I can hear a woman crying somewhere in the house.”
She laughed, thought for a second she might start crying, although she had no idea why, then laughed again.
“Mindy showed up.”
“Ah, the stupid friend.”
“Payne, her husband, found out. He’s devastated. They had a big fight. He’s crushed, Mindy feels guilty and didn’t know what to do next, so she left her kids with her parents and flew out here.”
“You okay with that?”
“I’m not sure I have a choice. Lillian’s very understanding. She pointed out the house was plenty big, and as long as the emotional drama isn’t coming from one of us, she’s happy to be a spectator.” Robyn leaned against him again. “I put her on the third floor.”
“You want her comfortable but not too comfortable.”
“Uh-huh.” She drew back again. “Am I crazy, or is her trip here really impulsive?”
His dark gaze was steady. “She’s dealing with a potentially life-altering reality, and it’s her own fault. Under those circumstances, running makes sense.”
“I get that, but why here? She has sisters. Plus, she knew I didn’t approve of the affair. It’s not like I’m going to tell her what she wants to hear.”
“Maybe she wants the hard truth,” he told her. “Maybe she thinks it’s time she faced the consequences of her actions.”
“You’re so rational.”
“Years of training. Know what to do and do it right. It’s not very interesting or fun, but it gets the job done.”
“I think it’s very interesting and appealing.”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “But not fun.”
She smiled. “You’re fun in other ways.”
“So are you.” He looked around the kitchen. “Where are the kids?”
“Grocery shopping. More people means more planning.”
“It does. I’ll wash my hands. Then you can put me to work.”
Because he would step in to help where he was needed, she thought, grateful for him in more ways than he could know. He wouldn’t complain or protest the job was beneath him. He wouldn’t tell her there was a game on or that she took things too seriously. He would simply do the job.
Not a characteristic every woman would appreciate, but as far as she was concerned, it was sexy as hell.
* * *
Mason set the table, then found the large serving bowls Robyn needed. When the kids got back, he helped put away the groceries.
“Dinner’s in about forty-five minutes,” Robyn said. “Mason, would you make Lillian’s cocktail? I don’t want her feeling left out in the sudden frenzy.”
“I always enjoy spending time with her. What about you? Can I bring you a cocktail?”
She smiled at him. A warm, happy smile that always kicked him in the gut.
“I think I should stay sober for a while longer,” she said with a laugh. “But I’ll be having wine with dinner.”
“Then I’ll go hang out with Lillian.”
“I’ll join you,” Harlow said, falling into step with him. “Give me a second to go wash up. You’ll be on her balcony?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll do the grunt work for Mom,” Austin said.
Mason raised his eyebrows. “Grunt work?”
The teen grinned. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
Mason walked to the stairs with Harlow. He wasn’t sure why Robyn’s daughter wanted to join him and Lillian. Maybe she was just being friendly, or perhaps she wanted to get to know him better in an effort to protect her mother. Either was fine.
He thought about what Austin had told him—about knowing that his father had cheated on his mother from the time Austin had been a kid. That had been a tough burden to carry. At least Harlow hadn’t learned about her father’s shitty behavior until recently, according to Robyn.
“I’m making a salty dog for Lillian,” he said. “Want to try one?”
“I would. Thanks.”
He found Lillian in her usual place on the balcony—on her chaise, blanket on her legs, eyes closed. He paused, not wanting to wake her up. Then she opened her eyes and reached for his hand.
“Mason! I was hoping you’d come see me.”
He bent down and kissed her cheek. “I’m going to make you a twist on a salty dog. Using tequila and lemonade.”
“Lovely. You’ll join me?”
“Of course.”
Salvia had left fresh lemonade in the small refrigerator in the sitting room. He salted the rims of three glasses, then mixed two drinks and carried them over to Lillian. She took hers and smiled at him.
“This is a treat. I don’t usually get you all to myself.”
“You’re very flattering. Harlow’s going to join us in a bit.”
“That will be nice, too.”
He took a seat. She sipped her drink, then sighed. “Very nice. Unexpected. I love the salt.” Her smile turned sly. “I like that you don’t assume I’m supposed to be watching my salt intake.”
“You don’t seem to have many dietary restrictions.”
“I’ve been blessed with good health.”
He told her about Robyn’s plans for her dinner.
“I love a gazpacho,” Lillian told him. “That’s perfect. I’m not sure what taco spaghetti is, and to be honest, it sounds dreadful.”
He laughed. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“I used to eat foods like that. No interest anymore. But I’m glad everyone else will be happy.” She lowered her voice. “Have you met Robyn’s friend?”