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“I can get it,” she calls to me, kicking off her heels and climbing in the bed of my truck in those damn stilettos. How many times have I watched her get in my truck bed? Dozens? Hundreds? So many of those ended up with her coming. Me too, on some occasions. But it was always more fun to spoil her.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” I say, hopping up into the bed and joining her.
“I’m not helpless.”
“Didn’t say you were. But since your suitcase is full of cinderblocks—”
“Ha. Ha.” She narrows her eyes at me, her breath catching a second later. We’ve realized it at the same time; our bodies are hardly a feather’s width apart. Her tits brush against my chest, and dammit if my gaze doesn’t drop straight down her shirt. “Ugh! Do you think about anything else?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t want me to suck on your tits, babe.” I slip my hands onto her hips, my fingers softly pressing into the exposed flesh. Teasing her. Torturing me. What I said about getting each other out of our systems this morning was total bullshit. I could fuck her a hundred times before she leaves, and it’ll never be enough.
“Mason,” she whispers, dropping a palm flat against my chest.
I grip her hip harder and swing her behind me, moving her out of the way of the suitcase so I can grab it. The seconds of contact leave my hand burning.Some things never change.
“Jerk,” she mutters, but there’s a teasing edge to her tone.
I carry her suitcase to her sister’s car and wait for her to unlock it. “What the fuck you got in here anyway?”
“I didn’t know how long I was going to be here.” It feels like a lie. Or at least an omission. Something is more than a little wrong, and I’m determined to find out what. If I need to go to LA and beat the shit out of some asshole who hurt her, I will in a heartbeat.
I heft the suitcase into the SUV and close the back, coming around the side of the car opposite the prying eyes of half the town. I cage Willow in, my hands pressed against the car on either side of her face. I lean close, my intent to scramble her brain and break down her walls. “What aren’t you telling me, Willow?”
She flickers her gaze to meet mine, and dammit if I’m not immediately lost in those brown eyes. She bites down on her bottom lip. A tell that something isverywrong in paradise. “Mason—”
“Willow, get your ass back in this diner,” Kinley shouts, shattering the moment. “We need you in the kitchen.”
I quirk an eyebrow in question.
“Good news,” she says to me, stepping away. “Grandma Roseisn’tdying.”
I watch her hurry back inside, unable to rip away my gaze from her. Unable to keep myself from wondering what’s really going on in her life. In that moment, I know I’m a completely fucked man. “Guess I’m buying a theater.”
CHAPTER9
Willow
It’s complete chaos at Grandma Rose’s house, which is the reason I sneak out as soon as everyone is asleep. Since the moment she threw that curve ball at me and my sisters, I’ve been restless. I’m relieved she’s not dying, but irritated that I maxed out my credit card to fly home last minute all so she could take some tour-the-world cruise.
My sisters and I know nothing about running a diner. Hell, none of us can even cook. Aurora’s a terrible waitress. Kinley’s more set on bossing everyone else around than actually working. I broke the dishwasher and had to wash hundreds of dishes by hand. All of this waswithGrandma Rose. Without her? We might actually burn the place down.
I’m exhausted.
But sleep is elusive.
My first impulse is to go to Mason. Even in LA for the past three years, whenever I had good news or bad, he was the first person I wanted to tell. The first person I wanted to celebrate with or seek comfort from.
I’m too proud to show up on his doorstep this late. Midnight sun or not to guide my way, I don’t want him to think I’m only interested in sex. Not when I’m still so in love with him it pains me to be away from him. I missed him like hell in the city. And now that I’m back, my entire body aches for him. All the denial I clung to dissipated the moment I heard his voice in that airport terminal.
Besides, the walk to his private cabin is four miles away. And it would have to be a walk. I’m fairly certain Kinley would murder me in my sleep if I borrowed her car without asking. At the end of the driveway, I turn left instead of right and head for the theater. It’s only three blocks from Grandma Rose’s house.
A block away, the beautiful stone structure emerges.
Even with the windows boarded up and afor salesign plastered on the door, it’s a magnificent building. It almost looks out of place in this tiny Alaska town with all its log-exterior buildings. I had such big dreams and ambitions for this place. Mason and I flirted with the idea of buying it from the Bernards when they retired. Of me not only running it, but acting on the stage. Producing plays that I wrote.
But that dream died when I bolted.
I flatten my hand against a stone pillar and close my eyes. The memories play out in my mind like a rapid-fire slideshow.
