Mason: Yes, and I am exhausted.
Travis: Shit, I bet. I wish you would have let us help.
Travis and Maddy just officially moved only a month ago.
Me: I prefer to do things on my own, you know that. Also, the moving company did most of it anyway. The travel and coordination were the tiring parts.
Travis: I can’t believe you made me move out here. It’s the beginning of November, and it’s still hot outside.
I chuckle to myself. I hadn’t considered coming back here until a few different things in my life collided around the same time. Harry approached me about opening up a restaurant last year, which happened to be the same time my parents bought their house in Phoenix to retire.
If I were a man who believed in signs or how the universe can affect people’s lives, I wouldn’t have thought it was odd that the week that my parents closed on their new home, I was given a buyout offer for my restaurant in Burbank by a prominent restaurant group in Los Angeles.
Me: Just wait until the summertime. You’re in for a fun surprise.
Travis: Can’t wait. Our meeting is still at Harry’s house on Wednesday, right? To discuss progress and the next steps.
Me: Yes, I’ll see you then.
I set my phone on the counter, plug it into the charger, then turn around, taking in the open floor plan. I drag my eyes along the mess that now takes up the entire living space. I had the movers place my small, black leather sectional on the left wall across from the TV, which is on the floor leaning against the opposite wall. I need to mount that tomorrow so I can watch the news while I drink my coffee because I can’t stand when myroutine is messed up. Maybe I should put it up now and save myself the anxiety of it not being finished for the morning.
Instead of buying a small table to just use for a few months, I’m placing my desk in the small dining area. Besides my bed, dresser, and two nightstands, I didn’t take any other pieces of furniture knowing I’ll end up buying more for the house.
Not having the energy to tackle any of this tonight, I take out my toiletries and clothes from my carry-on suitcase, take a shower, and get ready for bed.
Chapter Seven
Mason
By the time I finally got to bed last night, I slept harder than I had in months. Things are finally falling into place. Now, I can focus all my time on the restaurant construction and the renovations for the new house. I spend the morning working, running errands, and unpacking before deciding to head down to the gym for a workout.
The day I toured this condo building, I noticed the gym right away. It’s a small space on the main floor with only a few pieces of equipment. It will have to suffice until the workout room at the new house is completed and I can move in.
After I change into a plain, white T-shirt and basketball shorts, I throw my hat on backward, and I head down to the main floor. My legs are anxious for a good run as soon as I step into the elevator.
Strolling down the glass window-lined hallways, I notice that the rain has picked up again. I would rather be getting in some cardio in the beautiful desert weather since it’s usually perfect this time of year. But I’m not surprised that on my first day officially living here, it rains.
As soon as I turn the corner and am face to face with the transparent double doors of the workout room, I immediately recognize the person running on the treadmill in the far right corner. Bailey is in a full sprint, facing the opposite direction with her back to the entrance.
Now, I’m really annoyed that I can’t run outside.
Even from a few feet away, I can see her glistening, smooth skin. She has light pink and white running shoes on with tight, navy-blue workout pants. The deep blue looks painted on her skin as it hugs her every curve, covering all the way up to slightly past her hips.
My pulse races as I stand staring at her from behind.
Get it the fuck together, Mason.
That’s Harry’s little sister. But she’s not young and fresh out of high school anymore. I don’t know what she is, but whatever it is, it’s lighting me up.
Bailey’s sprinting at a measured pace, fast enough that her hair that’s pulled back into a ponytail on top of her head bounces with every movement. Her long, brown hair brushes the tan skin that’s left exposed from the sports bra or sports top—or half tank top thing? Whatever the hell it is, it doesn’t typically bother me when I see women wearing them at the gym, but seeing Bailey in one feels naughty.
I should leave.
I can’t focus on my workout when she’s right there unintentionally getting under my skin in more ways than one.
Adjusting myself, I clear my throat. It’s not her fault that she’s fucking hot. Poor thing is just trying to get her heart rate up, not knowing that I’m being a total creep by standing behind her, now with my own pulse quickening.
I drag my eyes across the small gym and, of course, there are only two treadmills, and they just happen to be positioneddirectly next to one another. She’s going to be so pissed when she sees me here.
