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Never again.
“I don’t really like surprises,” Mason grumbled as he followed the GPS on his car’s display.
Addison tsked. “It’s literally a nineteen-minute drive from the house. You can give up control for nineteen whole minutes. It’ll be good for you.”
For a moment, he considered pulling the car over and giving her a quick spanking. Maybe even dragging her smug ass into the national forest that ran along the road, finding a fallen log or some such thing to bend her over, and giving her a quick fuck to show her who was in control.
But she seemed so giddy when she asked if he would drive her somewhere secret—literally bouncing up on her toes. Given how hard the last two nights were for her, he had to give her this.
After they got back to the house last night, Addison went right to bed, not even changing out of her leggings and sweater. All she managed to do before collapsing onto the mattress was kick her sneakers off her feet.
Mason lay on the bed beside her for hours as she slept last night, staring up at the exposed beams on the ceiling. His chest ached far too much for sleep to be a remote possibility, not to mention the swirl of confused thoughts in his head.
For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why.
Pre-dawn light filtered through the gap in the curtain before he finally made up his mind. The only logical conclusion was that he had developed feelings for Addison. What those feelings were, exactly, he didn’t quite know, but he could think of no other reason why her pain would cause him to experience pain. Why her future happiness mattered to him more than his own.
He had to figure out his next move, and fast.
For now, though, he thought perhaps he could get by with a triple espresso. Something to look forward to after this little surprise of hers.
“There it is,” Addison said, pointing excitedly at a small wooden building in a cluster of scrubby trees. Tall windows lined the whole front wall, images of cacti and local wildlife carved into the wooden panels beneath each pane of glass.
Over the front door, a sign that appeared to have been welded from random bits of scrap metal read Night Bloom Art Gallery.
His eyebrows arched all on their own. He couldn’t think of what to say.
Not that Addison seemed to notice. “I’ve been admiring all the art in your house,” she said, talking a little faster than normal. “You have such a wide variety, and all of it is so beautiful. I looked at the website for this gallery this morning while you were sleeping, and I think you’re really going to love some of the artists here. They’re all local, too, so you won’t see their work anywhere else in the world.”
Mason was truly at a loss for words. He couldn’t remember the last time someone did something this thoughtful for him. The last time someone paid enough attention to him to even realize how thoughtful this would be.
“Thank you,” he managed at last, after he pulled into a spot and put the car in park. “This really means a lot to me.”
Blushing with pleasure, she climbed out of the car, hurrying up to the bright turquoise–painted door. When he approached at a more sedate pace, she held the door open for him, gesturing for him to precede her inside with a sweep of one arm.
As soon as Mason entered the small gallery, he became mesmerized by the colors, the lines, the simplicity. He didn’t have any art quite like this in his home, and that suddenly felt like a remarkable oversight.
Most of the paintings in his house had been acquired during his travels. It seemed only fitting that he find a painting to commemorate this first trip he took with another person.
A woman.
Addison.
After nodding politely at the man behind the counter, he walked slowly around the outside of the room, pausing several times to consider a particular piece that caught his interest. Addison trailed quietly in his wake, studying the paintings with a dreamy look in her eyes.
“You’re a big fan of art,” he observed when her breath caught at a painting of a desert sunset, a lonely cactus painted in shadow in the foreground.
“Look at these colors,” she answered, her fingertip hovering an inch or so above the canvas as she traced along the lines. “I feel like this artist really saw the soul of the desert.”
“Wow. I guess you’re a really big fan of art.”
Glancing his way, she laughed at his surprised look. “Granny was obsessed with art. I listened to her wax poetic about more paintings than you could ever imagine. I guess it rubbed off on me.”
That she shared another of his greatest passions in life shouldn’t have surprised him. Yet his mind reeled at the realization.
She’s fucking perfect.
Putting that thought aside for another time, he continued his trek around the room.
