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“No, I didn’t—” I stopped to fight a laugh. “I just never associated you with cooking, that’s all.”
“I’m not the worst, but I’m not exactly a Gordon Ramsay either. Roasting a chicken is about as fancy as you’ll see me get.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a roast chicken,” I replied. “It’s a versatile meal.”
Mason grinned. “Do you want a drink?”
“No, I’m good. Can I use your bathroom, though?”
“Sure. Want me to show you where it is?”
“Your house is laid out like mine. I think I can figure it out,” I teased. “Thanks.” I grabbed my purse and headed for the stairs.
I locked myself in the bathroom and quickly got to work. After locating the toothpaste, I removed the Ziplock bag from my purse and squeezed all the toothpaste into it. After that, I closed it and tucked it into my purse.
I removed the can of shaving cream and turned on the tap so he wouldn’t be able to hear what I was doing. I quickly filled the toothpaste tube with the cream and secured the cap, then cleaned the tube off so he wouldn’t know anything was up.
I turned off the tap, flushed the toilet, and pulled the spare t-shirt from my purse so it looked as though I’d simply freshened up after a long day at work. A quick brush of my hair finished it off, and I returned both the hairbrush and the half-empty can of shaving cream to my purse and made my way downstairs.
“Are you all right?” Mason asked, his brow furrowed.
“Yeah. Sorry. I just needed to freshen up.” I motioned to my new shirt. “Do you know if Grandma’s back yet?”
“I haven’t heard any cars. I’m about to eat if you want to join me.”
I smiled. “It’s okay. I’ll go sit on the porch, but if she’s not back in half an hour, I might just take you up on it.”
“Plenty here.”
“Thanks.” I waved and let myself out before he could draw the conversation out any longer. I knew my big mouth would give it all away, so I needed to get as far away from him as possible.
Until tomorrow, that was.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – MASON
Chocolate Isn’t Always The Answer
It’d been hours and I still couldn’t get the taste of fucking shaving cream out of my mouth.
Fucking Imogen.
I knew it was her. I should have known something was up when she spent so long in my bathroom yesterday. Freshening up my ass—the only thing she was freshening up was my taste buds.
I was going to get her back for this, and I was going to get her back hard.
Shaving cream was the kind of vile taste that lingered. It didn’t matter that I’d used an entire tube of toddler toothpaste to try and rid my mouth of it, or that I’d chewed a whole packet of gum or had the worst garlic pasta for lunch.
I could still taste it.
And to make it better, my car had a blown tire and the only garage in town couldn’t get my exact tire in until the following day.
I really needed a reminder of why I’d moved to a small town. At this point, driving to see Maya every weekend was becoming preferable.
I sighed in the back of the taxi. No, it wasn’t. I didn’t want to spend hours of my weekend with her driving. It was just a day that had started off funny, hovered in the middle at lunchtime with a blown tire and finished with a bad work meeting.
Some days don’t go your way, and this was one of mine.
The taxi pulled up outside my house. I passed some cash forward with a murmur to keep the change and got out of the car.
This day would only get worse if I had to clean up dog shit from my carpet again.
Shit. I’d cursed it now, hadn’t I?
I let myself into the house. It was completely silent, which meant Dolly was either sleeping or up to something. Judging by the way my day was going, I was going to say it was the latter.
“Dolly,” I called, setting my bag down by the door. “Dolly!”
Nothing.
I frowned. She recognized her name already, so there was no reason for her not to greet me. Panic clenched in the pit of my stomach, and I moved quickly through downstairs until I went into the kitchen.
There was a chocolate wrapper on the floor.
An empty one.
“Motherfucker! Dolly!” I ran through the house, but she was nowhere downstairs. I thundered upstairs until I found her under my bed looking lethargic, and there was a distinct smell of vomit coming from somewhere in the room.
Shit. I needed to get her to the vet, but I had no fucking car.
I scooped Dolly up and held her against me. I moved faster than I ever had, and when I passed the living room window, I saw a black car next door.
