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“I’m just that predictable, huh?” I leaned forward to kiss him. “Or you just know me too well.”
“That’s it,” he said, pulling my hand toward his lips to kiss my fingers. Aside from the hum of the engine running and the air pushing through the vents, all was quiet. He rubbed his thumb along the side of my palm and absentmindedly stared down where my legs straddled his lap. I expected him to make some comment about my silly flamingo pajama pants, which I had initially purchased for pajama day to amuse the kids. But he was quiet for a long time.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s just been a long night. Lots of… talking.”
“I wish I could have been a fly on the wall for some of those conversations.”
He shook his head. “Trust me, you don’t.”
“You’re probably right about that.” I could only assume the guys’ conversation topics differed quite a bit from the drunken talks I’d participated in that evening.
“Kendall,” Mason said, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“What?”
His stare lingered. “I…” He hesitated, and my heartbeat picked up its pace. There was something in the look in his eye, something new, that made me wary with anticipation. At first, I wanted to believe he was getting ready to say the three little words that were in the back of my own mind, but his expression was too somber for that. This was something else. And the longer he waited before continuing, the more my panic began to settle in. Finally, he exhaled, saying, “I can’t wait to meet your dad tomorrow.”
“Oh,” I said with a little giggle, knowing full well that wasn’t what he initially wanted to say. Adjusting myself on his lap, I leaned in close to rest my head on his shoulder. “Don’t remind me. I had to talk about my daddy issues with the tarot card reader.”
“Did my name come up in that reading?” Mason asked, playing with my hair.
I let my eyes drift shut and sighed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“No. You don’t have to tell me everything.” Mason brought his hands to either side of my face, angling my head so he could kiss my lips. I kissed him back, opening my mouth to let him in. He circled my tongue with his, dropping his hands to my rear end—I should’ve known they’d find their way there sooner or later. And, pulling away from me with a gentle tug, he said, “Let’s get out of here. Leave with me.”
“Mason,” I said with a chuckle. “I can’t just leave. We’re doing mimosas and facials in the morning.”
A smile gradually spread across his face. “I can give you a facial in the—” I pinched his side before he could continue that thought, making him squirm beneath me. “Ow! I’m just kidding. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested you bail on them. I just hate that I’ve got a night without Finley, and we still can’t…”
“I know. But it won’t always be like this.”
“Maybe…” Mason idly kneaded my hips with his thumbs. “Maybe we could test the waters with certain people knowing about us.”
“Like who?”
“Like… Sarah and Owen.”
I pulled back. “My boss? Are you kidding me?” I waited for him to laugh, to indicate he was joking, but he remained stoic. “Mason, Sarah can’t know. Because it puts her job on the line, too, if she knows and doesn’t report it. And she would report it, you know. Sarah’s a rule-follower, almost to a fault.”
“Oh,” Mason said, swallowing. “I hadn’t really thought about that.”
“I would love to tell our friends. We just can’t.”
Mason looked down, giving this some thought. I lifted his chin with my hand to force him to look at me. The sadness on his face almost broke me—it was killing him that we couldn’t have a normal relationship. And it was all my fault.
“Mason, I’m sorry.”
And then he softened like butter before me, and that familiar twinkle returned to his eyes as he wrapped his arms around me tighter. “You have nothing to be sorry for, princess. I’ll take you any way I can get you.”
I rested my head on his shoulder again and closed my eyes. I could have drifted to sleep just like that, with Mason’s fingers delicately running through my hair, but I would need to head back inside before the others got too suspicious.
This was enough—for now. But it seemed like Mason was beginning to grow tired of having to sneak around, and it had only been a few weeks. Could he really do this for the remainder of the school year?
Or would he someday decide it wasn’t worth it anymore?
chapter forty
