But, when I saw his cut lip, I couldn’t be angry. The guy took a fist to the face for my honor. Maybe he wasn’t such a troll after all. Maybe there was a Prince Charming inside of this grumpy guy.
In any case, the speech I’d prepared on the way home floated away like fall leaves kicked up behind the motorcycle. I grabbed my first aid kit and headed back to the kitchen. Mason looked up the second my foot hit the hallway carpet. His eyes were…softer, not so defensive and closed off.
Maybe he was as tired as I was—keeping the walls up between us took constant effort. What if…what if I just didn’t tonight?
His gaze followed my every movement as I pulled out a washcloth and ran it under cold water. My shirt slipped off my shoulder, and I let it hang there. So what? I was home, and I’d been pulling on the thing all night to keep Camden from getting the wrong idea. He was friendly, that was certain.
I approached Mason as if he were a caged tiger ready to spring even though it was my heart that prowled around inside my chest, eyeing him up. I hadn’t forgotten how great it felt to have a solid body next to mine.
“So”—I tipped his chin up, angling his face toward the light over the table—“are you always this much fun on dates?”
He snorted. I dabbed the washcloth at the blood on his chin and worked my way toward the cut. I leaned over him and my hair fell forward. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mason raise his hand. Then he hesitated, his fingers lingering by my cheek. My entire body tensed as I waited for him to touch me. I hadn’t realized until now how much I wanted him to touch me.
I took a deep breath and turned my face to meet his gaze. I held it, and for the first time in a long time, I lowered my wall and allowed myself to be vulnerable. He studied me for a moment before he tucked my hair behind my ear. My breath hitched. I’d just seen him pummel a man to tears with those hands, and yet I’d never been touched so gently in my life.
“I don’t date, Sadie.”
The way he said my name, all husky and low, sent goose bumps over my skin. “Why not?”
“Because it’s pointless.”
His words lingered in the air, and I found myself wanting to know more. Something was holding him back, and the longer the silence grew between us, the more I wanted to hear what he wasn’t saying.
I held my breath for a moment and then moved to finish washing his lip. I welcomed the distraction. His bottom lip was swollen, and I couldn’t help but notice that it didn't make him any less handsome—or his lips any less kissable. I had to turn to the kit to stop him from seeing the emotions crashing through me. Being this close to him was doing funny things to my head; like making me forget boundaries and common sense.
“I want to say it.” Mason’s tone was soft and desperate.
I knew what he wanted to say. I could feel his desire in the fabric that made up the room. His passion matched mine, and fear coursed through me like an out-of-control roller coaster. Once he said the words, he could never take them back.
And as much as I feared what he was about to say, I also feared what would happen if he didn’t say it.
“Mason…” I whispered, fear clinging to my throat.
Mason met my gaze, and my heart began to pound. He held it for a moment before he moved to study the tabletop.
“No woman compares to you. Never has. Never will.” He said it so effortlessly, so matter-of-factly that I was stunned.
I leaned onto the table, needing the support. Mason’s hand went to my back as if he sensed his words had almost knocked me over. The way he was looking at me, like I was way more than a mom or a student or a waitress—like I was a lady, his lady—undid me.
No man had ever said anything like that to me. Not Adam. Not Camden. No one. It seemed as if he saw me as who I knew I was inside. He saw me for me. And that thought left me feeling raw and exposed.
“That’s why I couldn’t sit back and watch Camden treat you that way.” He spit Camden’s name out as if it tasted bad.
Tears clung to my lashes as I could see the struggle inside of him. Out of instinct, my hand went to his cheek. “You shouldn’t have fought.”
His eyes were wide. Like he wasn’t sure how to process my touch. Then, slowly, he moved his free hand to cover mine. “You deserve the kind of man who would fight for you.”
I couldn’t stand it, couldn’t hold onto the intensity in his gaze. “I shouldn’t have worn this.” I plucked at my shirt and then tugged at my shorts. “Who was I kidding. I’m not the dating type either. A widowed mom? This whole night was a joke.”
He shook his head. “A real man doesn’t let what a woman wears dictate his behavior.”
He got to his feet, turning me to face him. “Sadie.” His eyes roamed my face, taking in the arch of my brow, my lashes, and then landing on my lips. “You can’t hide your beauty. You could wear this”—his fingers graced my bare shoulder, and I shivered in a wonderful way—“or a winter coat and your beauty would shine through.”
Every part of me wanted to resist what he was saying. I wasn’t beautiful. I was normal. Plain even. To have a man as attractive as Mason call me pretty caused every part of my being to fight back.
“Mason,” I whispered. My body yearned to be closer to him. To wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck, drinking in his wonderful woodsy scent.
But I shouldn’t. It wasn’t even about Adam anymore. I knew he would want me to move on. To find a father for our son. To find a man who would love me forever. But I had this fear, and it was slowly coming to light, that if I leapt with Mason, I was going to fall. Hard. Once that dam of protection around my heart broke, there was no pulling it back.
The question in my mind remained. Should I gather my courage and possibly make a mistake? Would I allow Mason in like I so badly wanted to?
I’d done a lot of things tonight that I shouldn’t have done. I had a feeling that being near Mason would be the least regrettable. So I dangled my toe over the edge of my feelings for him, and I leaned in. Just enough so he would know I was okay with being near him.
His eyes widened, and I responded with the most intense look I could muster. Mason brought his body closer to mine. He cupped my cheek and planted his other hand firmly on my hip. I stifled a gasp that rose up in my throat from his touch. He used just enough pressure to let me know he didn’t want to let me run away, but not enough that I couldn’t slip out of his grasp. He ran his thumb along my jaw, lifting my chin.
I knew what he wanted, and I couldn’t bring myself to stop him.
Because I wanted it too.
Mason was more than a body full of muscle. He was a tenderhearted soul who stood up against bullies and bad guys. He put himself on the line so that others—like me—didn’t have to. And not just in his job. He’d taken a punch tonight so I wouldn’t have to deal with a drunk date who had the wrong idea about me.
He was strong, but he was kind. I couldn’t get over the confidence he’d given Parker just by hanging out with him. He didn’t have to, but he spent time with my son because that was the kind of guy he was—and I was falling for him.
He leaned down as I lifted to my toes, and our lips came together. I felt him wince, and he pulled back.
I gasped and brushed my fingers over the corner of his lip. “I’m sorry.”