“What’s improper is what’s in your refrigerator.” He yanked out a wilting tomato, one of the last from the garden. “Do you actually eat real food?”
“I haven’t been grocery shopping this week,” I countered. “I’ve been busy.”
“You have an overripe tomato, three eggs, a block of questionable cheese, mustard, and a week-old Chinese takeout carton.” He picked up the Chinese takeout, sniffing it, flinching before he tossed it in the garbage. “Now minus the takeout.” He gathered the rest of the items, his head shaking, taking them over to the counter.
“Addison and I order out a lot.” I felt defensive, my eyes tracking how easily he moved around my kitchen, opening drawers, grabbing pans, a cutting board, and knives like he lived here. I watched in awe as he started cooking, his confidence in his actions skimming something deep inside I didn’t want to acknowledge.
“You know how to cook?”
He shrugged. “There was a time I was at home a lot, not able to do much. Bored, I started to watch my grandmother cook. And slowly it turned into her teaching me.” He sliced the tomato, pushing the pieces into a pile before starting on the cheese. “I actually enjoy it. It’s oddly calming to me. It keeps my mind off things.”
“You enjoy busy work, like fixing things and cooking,” I added, leaning against the doorjamb.
His black eyes shot to me, his lip tugging up slightly before he looked back at what he was doing.
“Yeah, I guess. It takes my mind off everything, and for that time, I’m in the moment. No past, no future. Just now.”
His words struck something in me, stirring me. I shifted off the wall, heading for the pot of coffee.
“Want one?”
“Yes. Black.” He cracked the eggs into the pan, nodding.
I poured a coffee, setting it in front of him.
“Thanks.”
“Least I can do.” I flicked my chin at the breakfast he was making. “I’m not really one who finds enjoyment in cooking. My interest lay in other places. Though I make a mean salad.”
“Good.” He dumped the tomato and cheese into the pan, setting it on the stove. “Because salads are not my forte.” His heavy gaze went to me, like we were trying to see how compatible we were. See where our lives would blend together.
My attention darted out to the garden, not acknowledging his implication.
“So, what do you enjoy doing?” He stirred the eggs, the smell of melting cheese filling up my kitchen. “Let me guess, you love cleaning people’s teeth,” he teased.
A laugh choked out of me. “Oh, hell no.” I chuckled again. “It was just a way to survive. To pay bills while Ben was in law school.”
Mason didn’t react, his face staying neutral as he fussed with the eggs. I figured he knew about Ben, but it was the first time I had mentioned my husband in front of him, and it made me feel strangely uncomfortable.
“My dream was to open my own pet adoption place. Finding the perfect home for each one.” I leaned back on the counter, trying not to stare at his firm, pert ass. “While my sister Harper was the cheerleader and popular one, I was the girl volunteering at animal shelters and walking dogs on weekends.”
“Why did you give it up?” He glanced back at me.
“Life.” I lifted a shoulder. “Responsibilities. Bills. It wasn’t practical at that time. Plus, Ben was highly allergic.”
“Okay, but what about now?” He shut off the stove, carrying the pan to the kitchen table, hearing the silent but Ben is no longer here, so what is stopping you?
“Life. Bills. Responsibilities.” I grabbed plates and forks, walking them over to the table.
“Do you want to be a dental assistant?”
“It’s not so easy,” I snipped, feeling the judgment crawling up my spine. Not from him, but from myself. I had asked myself all of this before but continued to do nothing. Letting my life slip by, doing just enough to survive, playing it safe, but not doing anything I loved.
“Well, volunteering in a shelter would at least be a start. Be around animals again?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. Mason scooped the eggs onto my plate, sitting down as if we ate breakfast together every morning.
“I’m surprised you don’t even have a dog.”
“Too busy, I guess.” I stabbed my fork into my food. “What about you?” I shoved the eggs into my mouth. “Oh my god… this is amazing.” I blinked with surprise. It wasn’t as if I never ate eggs, but these tasted really good.
“Secret spices.”
“I have those?”
Mason let out a deep laugh. The power of it hummed through me, curling my toes.
“Little milk, with salt and pepper.” A grin pulled up the side of his mouth, fluttering my lungs.
Staring down at my plate, I concentrated on my breakfast. “So, what do you want to do when you grow up?”
The air in the room shifted instantly, darkness wiping the smile right off his face.
“I don’t know.” He sat back. “Doesn’t really matter.”
“What do you mean? Don’t you have lofty plans of your own? At least go to college? Party too hard, hook up with the hot coeds? Isn’t that what guys your age are supposed to do?”
His gaze shot to me, his lid lowering as though I had insulted him. “Ahh.” He scoffed. “Party. Drink. Fuck.”
A gasp knifed the back of my throat, the way he said it seeping wetness from me as if his wicked tongue had actually licked through me.
“Got me all figured out.” He tossed down his fork on his plate with a frown. “Spend money on a degree I’ll never use, have a job which makes me miserable. Sounds like a great, full life.”
“Mason…” I tapered off, not sure where his anger was coming from.
“You know what? You’re right.” He scooted back his chair, ire sparking off him. “That’s what I should be doing with my life. Partying and fucking everything that walks. It’s not as if there can be much else for me past that.” He stood up. “Thanks for letting me crash on your sofa.” He strode out to the living room.
“Mason?” I sprang up, a sick dread weaving around my ribs, wringing my stomach. Everything in me screaming for him not to go. “Wait.”
He yanked on his jeans, grabbed his boots and jacket, and headed for my door.
“Mason!” I darted after him, grabbing his arm as he opened the front door. “What’s going on? Did I say something wrong?”
He stood over me, a sadness in his eyes. My heart was pounded with the desperate need to pull him into me.
“No.” He wagged his head, his jaw straining. “It made me very aware I will never have what other people do.”
“What?”
“A future.” Resentment flared in his face. “By the way, your washer is broken again. Better get someone in to fix it.” He turned, slamming the door, leaving me confused and shaken, gutted and hollowed out.
It felt as though he took something with him when he left.
Chapter 15
Emery
“Someone pee in your cheerios this morning?” Marcie sauntered into the breakroom, her perfectly sculpted eyebrow popping up as she took me in. “You weren’t that drunk the other night to be still hungover.”