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It was a mistake.
If I were a sloth, I wouldn’t just climb him like a tree; I’d hang off him for a nap, too.
Lord, he was hot.
Focus, Lauren.
“No,” I said. “You look like the lone wolf who waits for the cocktail-drinking girls to accidentally spill their drinks on your shoes.” I glanced at the time. “Speaking of, I have to go and make those cocktails.”
Mason grinned. “You want me to come and get hit on by drunk girls?”
“As someone who has no say in your life whatsoever, I don’t care what you do.” I stood up and looked at him over my shoulder. “As your fake girlfriend, I’m a bit of a tiger, so I wouldn’t.”
“I know.” He snorted, following me to the front door with his laptop tucked under his arm. “I’ve seen you play the possessive girlfriend. If this weren’t all fake, I would have been a little turned on.”
I locked the front door and tossed my hair over my shoulder. “Please. You were totally turned on.”
He said nothing as we headed for the stairs.
“You can say something. That was a joke.” I glanced at him, heat rushing to my cheeks.
His lips pulled into a smirk, eyes flashing. “I reserve the right to not respond.”
Oh. My. God.
Scratching behind my ear, I dipped my head and almost tripped over my own feet. Mason grabbed my arm, steadying me, then slid his fingers up over my shoulder to tilt my head up with two fingers.
My eyes met his.
“You’re cute when you get flustered.”
“I am not flustered!”
“Your defiance doesn’t make you any less cute. In fact, it’s a little hot.” He winked, dropping his hand and turning, disappearing down the stairs before I’d even managed to mentally form a sentence together.
“I’m not flustered!” I yelled into the stairwell, chasing him down.
“Still cute!” he hollered back with the sound of a door opening.
I kept running until I reached the lobby. The front door was just about to click shut, but I caught it before it did and stepped out into the late afternoon sun.
Mason was nowhere to be seen.
“Damn it,” I muttered, clutching my keys. “Freakin’ men.”
CHAPTER TEN – MASON
LAUREN: I was not freaking flustered.
LAUREN: Or cute.
LAUREN: The last time I was cute was before I could talk.
LAUREN: And I DON’T GET FLUSTERED, MASON.
LAUREN: Jesus, I hate you.
I laughed and locked my phone. She’d totally been flustered—the bright pink of her cheeks had given that little secret away. There was also a part of me that was regretting the pretending to be in a relationship thing, because if she couldn’t pretend not to be flustered…
That was before I even considered the fact that I was looking forward to seeing her again.
That was a real fucking problem.
And I hated myself for it already.
It would be all too easy to pretend to be with Lauren. I didn’t have to spend a party with her to know that. It was too easy at my reunion. It was too easy at the bar, and the diner, and at her apartment. Even when her jerk of a cat sat on my head.
And when we’d stopped on her stairs and I’d tilted her face up, it’d taken every bit of self-control I possessed not to kiss her.
To brush my lips over hers, to see if her lips were as soft as they looked.
I rubbed the back of my neck and got rid of those thoughts before they went too far. She’d already made her position clear; anything more intimate that hand-holding and hugging was off-limits, and I was going to respect that.
I wasn’t going to force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. Except for watch weird videos of my family members.
Hey—she was going to see it in real life. At least now she knew what to expect and she could react appropriately.
Three knocks at my truck window jolted me out of the hole I was thinking myself into.
I pressed the button to lower the window and looked into the scowling face of my great-aunt.
“Are you coming in or what? I’m not paying you to sit in your truck on my drive with a fairytale look on your face.”
“Aunt Pru, you aren’t paying me at all.”
“I know. But I’m paying you the honor of gracing you with my presence, aren’t I?”
“You’re right. Forgive me.” I hid the twitch of my lips and motioned for her to step back so I could get out. I paused to grab my toolbox from the passenger seat and jumped out after here. “What’s the emergency?”
“My new clock needs hanging.”
I stopped halfway to the front door. “You called me here immediately after work to hang a clock?”
“Yes. I’ve been waiting for your father to do it for a week.”
“So why didn’t you call Dad?”
Evil amusement flashed in her dark-blue eyes. “My panicked calls don’t work on him anymore. You’re a real sucker.”
