“Asshole.” I kicked the machine again, my mind trying to figure out which credit card would allow me to put a new washer and dryer on it without exploding.
“I hope you were talking to the machine.” A deep voice hitched the air in my lungs, spinning me around to the open garage door. I pushed it up to drain some of the water inside.
“Shit.” I clasped my chest. My lungs pitched, my cheeks instantly flushing.
Mason James stood in my driveway, looking like everything he shouldn’t. His 6’3” form was clad in jeans, t-shirt, hat, and boots, similar to what he wore the other night. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” he replied. One word said with no inflection, yet I felt it everywhere. I ground my teeth, hating I couldn’t seem to stop my reaction to him. It was wrong. “Addison’s not here. She’s at cheer practice.”
“I know.” Again, he didn’t make it lewd or with any hidden double meaning, solely matter of fact, but I still felt heat cascade down my shoulders. It pissed me off. “I came to fix your dishwasher, but it looks as if I need to add the clothes washer to the list too.” A tool box and parts were clutched in his fingers, his dark gaze finding mine under the brim of his hat, making me feel the yoga pants and sports bra I had on were no more than underwear.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I can call someone. Or get new ones.” Although I couldn’t afford to replace them all right now. “Think these came original with the house.”
He watched me for another beat, and I swear I saw his gaze drop to the wedding ring on my hand, making me itch to explain or hide it. He strolled toward the washer, his body brushing mine. I hopped out of the way, hearing my own intake of air.
“Let me take a look first.” He lifted the lid, flexing the muscle in his arms. His hands were rough, like he worked with them a lot. They could easily palm a football… or my ass. The thought shot into my head so quickly I jerked back.
I blinked my eyes in anger and shame and backed away more, trying to erase the thought from my head. Seriously, what was wrong with me? Resentment flooded me for being some sleazy cougar stereotype. He made me feel jittery and unstable because he didn’t look like a normal high school boy.
But he is, Emery. He is in high school.
“I’m fine. I got it handled.” I practically barked. “Aren’t you supposed to be at practice or something too?”
Please leave.
Mason slanted his head to me, his eyes always so fucking intense.
“I should.” He grabbed a drill from his tool bag. “There are a lot of things I should be doing.”
I folded my arms. “What does that mean?”
“We spend most of our lives doing what we should and not what we truly want.”
His sentiment raced through my gut, stirring up all those dreams and ideas I put to the side, flooding me with shame, like I had been called out.
“You’ll learn when you grow up and join the real world that life doesn’t work out so simply.” I shot back. Leaning down, I grabbed a basket, hauling out all the wet clothes still in the washer. “You can’t live life doing just what you want to do.”
“Why not?” He spoke low, not moving as I grabbed the clothes, his frame so close to mine it crossed the invisible line of intimacy that society wordlessly drew.
“Because if everyone did what they wanted, we’d have a very selfish, ugly world.”
“Even if you only had so much time left?” He peered down at me.
My body froze, every muscle stiffening. He peeled back every layer I had, yanking out that question from the pit of my soul.
What would I have changed if I had known Ben and I only had so much time together? How would we have lived? Would I have yanked him into bed instead of letting him go on his run? I know I would have been more forward with sex—more daring and spontaneous. I probably wouldn’t have worked so many hours at a job I didn’t really care for.
But this was fantasy. Not the real world.
“I try to live life to the fullest, but not selfishly.”
“I didn’t say anything about being selfish,” he replied, his dark eyes burrowing into mine. I could feel the implication burn under my skin, squeezing my thighs together with the idea of what someone like him could do to me.
Emery, Stop it!
“Is that why you aren’t at practice? Is fixing my washer living life to the fullest?”
His lips curved up, a laugh rumbling from him. “Maybe.”
Swallowing, I glanced away. “I heard you used to play football. Why did you quit and become a coach instead?”
I noticed the tendons in his arms flexing and tightening, his expression staying completely neutral.
“I couldn’t play anymore… and my grandpa thought assisting would keep me involved in a game I loved.”
“But you don’t want to coach.” It came out as an observation, not a question.
It was so subtle, but his mouth pinched together, his throat bobbing. It took him several moments before he replied. “No.”
“You do it for your grandfather.” Again, not a question.
“I owe both of them everything.”
“So, living for what they want?” A smirk danced on my mouth, my eyebrow lifting.
“As I said, I never said I was selfish.” His gaze slid to mine, the irrelevant word lighting up every nerve of my body, oxygen thinning out of my lungs as I held his gaze, my head spinning.
“Mason?” Addison’s voice pitched from the end of the drive, her eyes squinting against the sun as she peered into the garage. I jolted back, putting a huge buffer between us, which should have been there the whole time, my lungs filling with shame. I was the adult here. I needed to draw the lines.
“Oh my god!” Addison grinned ear to ear, darting inside the garage, her backpack thumping against her. “What are you doing here?”
For a moment his eyes slipped to me, but went right back to her. Completely impassive. He showed no sign he was happy she was here, but no resentment she was either.
“I promised your aunt I’d fix the dishwasher.”
“Now, the washer as well.” I secured the fake smile on my lips, indicating the film of water on the ground.
Addison’s eyes widened, glowing with complete adoration. “Oh my god, that is so sweet. Seriously, Mason, it means so much.”
His mouth flattened, not responding to her.
“I can help you,” she declared, tossing her pack down on the dryer, fluffing her ponytail like she was preparing for some cheer-off.
“Okay, I’m going to go hang these on the line.” I picked up the laundry basket. “And don’t worry if you can’t fix it. Probably beyond repair,” I threw out with an aloof tone, strolling past.
“I enjoy fixing older, broken things.” His deep rumble hit my spine as I stepped inside the house. Closing the door, a jagged breath scraped through my airways, feeling a pulse drop between my legs.
I slammed my lids together, my knuckles squeezing around the plastic basket until I heard them pop. Addison’s giggle could be heard; the thrill of finding him here couldn’t be hidden. I had no doubt she thought he came here for her.
She was my priority. He was hers to crush on. No matter if I foresaw him breaking her heart, she had the right to flirt with him. Who knows, maybe they would become an item?