What the hell kind of guys was she used to, if him opening doors for her was such a shock? It was just polite, and when she was with him, she should expect it. “Yep.”
She climbed in and he shut the door for her before going around to the driver’s side. “Where’s Ric?” she asked as she put on her seatbelt.
“I already dropped him off at Tate’s. He’s sulking, but he’ll forget all about me once Tate starts throwing the ball for him in the backyard. They’re taking him to Coeur D’Alene with them.”
“I doubt he’ll forget about you. You guys are pretty attached to each other.”
“Yep.” He’d never had any pets growing up, except for the final and best foster home he’d been put in, where they’d had a little dog. When Tate had suggested Mason look into finding a therapy dog specifically trained for veterans with PTSD, he had initially dismissed the idea, embarrassed that his friend thought he needed help.
Turned out, getting Ric was the best decision he’d ever made.
The dog was his shadow and best friend. Ric slept beside him every night and woke him when he was in the grips of a nightmare. When anxiety got the better of him, Ric usually sensed it before it reached crisis point and would lean on or nudge him, helping to ground Mason along with the exercises he’d been taught to combat it.
As a result, he was doing way better now than he had in the past, though he would never be the same person he was before the horrific crash and ensuing firefight that would forever haunt him. “What can I say? I love that dog.”
The hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “I know. It’s super cute.”
So she didn’t think he was a total asshole, then. That was good. “So, what kind of music do you like?”
She shrugged. “Anything but metal. You?”
“Country, baby, all the way. That all right with you?”
“Sure.”
He turned on the radio to provide some background noise as he drove. This was the first time they’d been together since dinner at Tate’s a week ago. They had a six-hour drive ahead of them, and given the close quarters they would be in together for the next three days, he didn’t want things to start off on an awkward note. “So did you tell your mom about me?”
“Yes. I told her we met through friends—which we did—and that we’ve only been seeing each other for a few weeks. That’ll make our backstory easier, because it’s close to the truth and the timeline works. And while we’re on the topic, we should go over the ground rules.”
Mason fought a smile as he headed for the highway. He’d expected her to be a little uptight about the whole thing, and would have been disappointed if she hadn’t. She’d probably been second-guessing her decision to go with him since she’d made it. “I like rules.” Mostly because he liked bending them until they broke.
“Good.” She rubbed her palms over her thighs, then clasped her hands in her lap. “I’m not comfortable with PDAs, so don’t try any.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “We’ve been together for weeks, you bring me to a weekend-long family wedding, and I’m not allowed to make any public displays of affection?”
“Right.”
He snorted. “Come on.”
“What?” She shot him an annoyed look.
“That’s ridiculous. No one will believe we’re together.”
“Sure they will, because they know me. We’ll just be subtle about it. Classy.”
He gave her a telling look. “You might have noticed, but I’m not the subtle type.”
Her cheeks turned a bit pink. “You can be subtle for one weekend.”
She’d soon learn that he wasn’t much for rule following when he thought the rules were stupid. Not that he was going to tell her that. Way more fun to let her find out on her own. “If you were mine, I’d let everyone know it.”
“What’s that mean?” Her tone held a note of alarm.
“It means I wouldn’t be subtle,” he said, throwing the word back at her.
Her fingers fidgeted in her lap. “My family’s pretty conservative, and they’ll all be curious about us. I’m not comfortable with—”
“Hey.” He reached over to squeeze her hand. He’d never seen her like this, anxious and a little unsure of herself. He didn’t like seeing her worried, so unlike the confident, put-together woman he’d seen over the past month-and-a-half. “Let’s just let things happen naturally, okay? We’ll play it by ear, but even if I’m not your version of subtle, I’m not going to embarrass you or anything.”
She let out a relieved breath when he released her hand. “Then there’s the bed issue,” she went on. “I’ve asked them to bring a cot to our room, or put us in a room with a pullout bed for you.”
He shook his head. “We’ve been together for weeks and I can’t even sleep on the far side of the bed from you. That’s cold, Avery. Why are we together again?” If she was his, no fucking way she’d be sleeping alone in the bed. He’d be touching her every chance he got, getting her worked up, making her wet and needy for him.
“Those are the rules, Mason,” she said firmly. “And we’ll take turns with who gets first shower.”
“Or, we could—”
“Don’t say it.”
That was better, her anxiety was gone again. Damn he loved her sense of authority. It challenged his dominant side, made him want to find out what it would take to peel all that control away from her in bed.
Arousal stirred in his gut at the thought. He’d fantasized about that so many times since meeting her. Had thought about her way too much and couldn’t seem to stop. “Is it your family you’re more worried about seeing?”
“No. Well, yes. Kind of. But mostly my ex. Anyway, enough about me. What about your family? I don’t know anything about them.”
It wasn’t a pretty story, and not one he wanted to share with her yet because like her, he didn’t want to be the object of pity. So he gave her the abbreviated version. Maybe he’d tell her more later, depending on how things went with them. “There’s only my mom in Calgary.”
She nodded. “Are you close?”
“Yeah.”
“Any siblings?”
Dozens of foster kids his mom had taken in over the years. He only kept in touch with a couple of them via email now. “No. So, what do you like to do for fun?”
“I thought we were talking about you now.”
“Not gonna answer?”
“I like to eat.”
He shot her a quizzical look and she laughed softly, the happy sound making him smile a little. “It’s true. I love to eat. I just hate cooking for myself all the time,” she said. “It’s a drag.”
“I like to eat too. See?” he teased. “We’ve got something in common after all.”
She nodded, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “And we’ve both got great taste in friends.”
“Hell yeah, we do.” Tate rocked, and Nina was a sweetheart. Quirky and nerdy and she had her head in the clouds—or space—half the time, but a sweetheart nonetheless.