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He sent me a scandalized blink. “Are you crazy? Mom cannot be trusted with finances. Before I stepped in, she forgot to pay…pretty much everything. She’s a great mother, don’t get me wrong. I would give my life for her, but the woman can’t budget worth shit. Sometimes, she would forget to pay the electric bill, and the lights would just go out while we were eating dinner or I was taking a shower. Sometimes—”
“So, wait.” I waved my hands to stop him. “I’m sorry, but I guess I just don’t understand how you finishing college is going to teach your mother to learn to finance and take care of herself without you.”
He stared at me as if he couldn’t comprehend my concern.
“Even if you build up a big enough nest egg for her and Sarah to be set for life, she could still forget to pay for utilities after you leave.”
Mason’s glower was irritated. “Are you saying I’m never going to be able to move out on my own?”
“No, I’m saying you need to come at this from a different angle. It sounds like Dawn needs to learn a little organization.” And to quit stacking so much responsibility on her son’s shoulders.
“She’s starting to come around,” he argued. “I’ve worked with her for the past two years. And every couple of months, she’ll pay the bills without my help.”
“Well, then there you go. Maybe she could do it all on her own now. Ergo, you can stop doing something so drastic to save your family. They’ll be okay. You don’t have to keep breaking the law or your own moral code and continue doing something you obviously hate just to make more money.”
“I have a plan,” he repeated, his jaw going obstinately hard, telling me nothing was going to make him deviate.
I rolled my eyes and muttered, “Yeah. A stupid plan.” My voice might’ve been a tad petulant, but I didn’t care. His stupid plan was keeping me from jumping his bones this very second. It was keeping me from being with the one person who saw me and liked what he saw.
As if he understood his pigheadedness was leaving me shafted, he sat beside me. “I’m sorry, Reese. I didn’t mean to dump all my problems on you. I…” He swallowed. The look he sent me said volumes in the apology department, but the words he said sounded more like, “Do you have anything to drink?”
I blurted out a hard laugh. Yeah, a stiff drink sounded perfect right about now.
“Sure. Hold on.” I pushed to my feet and left him on the sofa. I needed a little space from him anyway before I slapped him silly.
In the kitchenette, I opened the top cupboard and stretched up onto my toes to reach the only bottle of alcohol I had in the place. After filling a crystal cup with ice, I poured a healthy shot and carried both the glass and bottle to the couch.
“Here.”
Relief crossed his face. “Thanks.” He downed the drink whole, only to sit upright, nearly spitting it out as he coughed and sputtered. “God.” He grimaced and scraped the surface of his tongue against the bottom of his top teeth, wiping off the remaining flavor. “What was that? Tequila?”
Shocked he didn’t know his liquors, I gaped. “No. It was gin.” How could anyone not recognize the taste or smell of gin?
“Blech. Tasted like Pine-Sol.”
Umm…Yeah. Duh.
He gave a sudden laugh. “I just meant water when I asked for a drink, you know.”
“Oops.” I shrugged.
He shrugged too.
“Oh, well. This’ll do too.” He reached out and snagged the bottle from my hand to pour himself another shot. He merely shivered in revulsion with his next swallow. “Damn, that’s nasty.” He cast me an arched-eyebrow glance. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a gin drinker.”
“I’m not. It was in the cabinet when I moved in. Must be my aunt and uncle’s.”
He snorted, pouring himself more. “Nice way to tempt their underage, college-student niece into staying sober.” Hissing through his teeth after shot number three, he looked at me from slightly watered eyes.
I grinned because his reaction was so darn cute. “Let me guess. You’re not a big drinker.”
Mason shook his head before taking a deep, bracing breath and downing number four. A green tinge touched his cheeks, but he swallowed again and kept everything down only to flash clenched teeth.
“Well, newbie. If you keep shooting them that fast, you’re going to be sicker than a dog.”
He eyed me, considering it. “But I’ll be drunk?”
“Oh, yeah.”
