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“Thanks.”
I drank as he peeled the banana and tore off a third of it, popping the entire section into his mouth. He still looked entirely too gorgeous while chewing, even with fruit bulging from the side of his cheek.
I glanced away and picked at a piece of plastic on the lid of my cup. “Did you get your book? I’m sorry I forgot about it Friday and didn’t bring it over until last night.” I didn’t want to think about why he hadn’t been there to accept it himself, but I did anyway.
He nodded as he took a small sip to wash down the banana. “Yes. Sarah made absolutely certain it was in my hands first thing this morning. At five o’clock.”
I winced. Ouch. He’d gotten home later than I had last night and had been up way before I’d opened my eyes. If anyone had a reason to be a tired be-otch today, it was him. But he looked too content for any of that as he added, “And she showed me all twenty of her newly painted nails. Nice job, babysitter.”
“Why, thank you,” I said with a not-so humble bow—well, as much of a bow as I could manage while sitting on the ground.
“Sarah’s the reason I need to talk to you, actually.”
“Right.” I emptied my cup and frowned. Had I finished my latte already? Bummer. I focused on him. “The ulterior motive. I remember.”
“Right,” he repeated with a nod. “So I’ve heard a rumor from a little birdie that you have a…charm bracelet.”
I frowned, completely confused by this line of questioning. “Umm…yeah.”
“Can I see it sometime? Sarah has been gushing about it. So I was thinking of getting her one for her birthday next month.”
I perked to attention. “Her birthday’s next month?”
“Yep. She’s going to be the big one-three.” Without waiting for me to lift my arm and show him my wrist, Mason spotted my bracelet and took matters into his own hand, gently wrapping warm fingers around my forearm and lifting it to examine the piece of jewelry draped over the base of my hand. “Mom and I were going to give her a birthday party on the twenty-third if you want to come.”
“Hell, yes, I want to come. And I’ll buy a charm to go on the bracelet as my present to her. Are you going to invite any of her school friends?”
Mason’s good mood immediately soured. He let go of me with me a hard look. “Sarah doesn’t have any friends from school.”
“Jeez, sorry.” I lifted a hand to calm his scowl. “I guess I should’ve worded that differently. What I meant to say was: Are you going to invite any of her classmates?”
>
The dark fury on his face said hell, no. “Why should we? They never invite her to any of their stupid parties.”
“I know, I know.” I gave a relenting sigh. “But…this is middle school. It’s a really eye-opening time for her. She’s beginning to see how the world works and is realizing how much having no friends sucks. I just think if there was any way to get someone her age to be nice to her, even for an hour-long birthday party, we should at least try to help her adapt to her social peers. I mean, she’s going to be thirteen. That age is the toughest time, I swear.”
Mason blew out a breath, looking reluctant, but he admitted, “No doubt. I hated middle school. Nothing good comes from adolescence.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” I playfully bumped my shoulder against his. “You learn where the most painful pimples grow.”
With a grimace, he made a mustache with his index finger. “Right here, under your nose.”
“I know, right.” I laughed. “Most painful place ever.”
“My eyes would always water when I tried to pop them.”
“Uhhmm.” I mimicked a you’re-in-trouble-now sound. “You’re not supposed to pop pimples. Bad Mason.”
His mouth dropped open as he sent me an incredulous gawk. “How you can you not pop them?”
Caving, I nodded and confessed. “Okay, fine. I always had to pop them too.” When we shared another smile, I grew a little too fascinated with staring at his perfect features. I frowned. “I can’t imagine you with acne.”
Mason rolled his eyes. “Trust me. I had my fair share of craters.”
“Well, your skin is flawless now.” I sent him a suddenly suspicious, arch-of-the-eyebrows look. “You exfoliate, don’t you?”
He choked on the sip he was taking. After coughing and wiping a dribble of latte out of the dimple in his chin, he dryly reported, “Yes, you caught me. I put that green crap on my face and cucumbers over my eyes every night.”
