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Willow
The temptation to fall asleep in Mason’s arms is overwhelming. It’s so familiar. A place I spent countless nights. During the three years in LA, I missed this above everything else. A comfortable tangle of naked bodies. Skin against skin. The promise of comfort and protection that always came with the simple drape of his arm across my back.
But Kinley will hunt me down if she figures out I borrowed her car without asking.
“Mason?”
“Hmm?” His eyes are closed, and I steal this moment to simply stare at the handsome man who, for some crazy reason, still cares about me even though I broke his heart. He should hate me. He has every reason to never speak to me again. And yet …
“I’m sorry.”
His eyes flutter open and I lift my shoulders to meet them better. This deserves a face-to-face conversation. Not words spoken into his chest while I look away and ignore the hurt I see there. I feel him stiffen beneath me, but he doesn’t drop his hand around my lower back.
“I’m sorry I left the way I did.” I bite down on my bottom lip, debating if I should keep this short and sweet or if he wants an explanation.He deserves to know. “I got a call the night before. From my agent. Well,exagent now. It felt like a sign. That if I didn’t leave before I walked down that aisle, that I’d never get to chase my dream. I didn’t want to resent you. I couldn’t stand the thought of ever feeling that way about you.”
Mason stares up at the ceiling, not saying anything.
“My dream was always to be a famous actress. To star in movies people stood hours in line to watch on the big screen.”
His gaze flickers back to mine. “Was?”
“It’s not anymore.”
Mason sits up, shimmying until his back is against the headboard. He drapes a sheet across his lap and scrubs both hands over his face. Each passing second leaves me feeling vulnerable and afraid.
“Don’t do this if you don’t mean it, Willow,” he says in a low growl.
“I mean it.” I grab a pillow and hug it to me, wondering what the hell I was thinking having this conversation when we were both naked. “I don’t have an agent, a place to live, or any money. Couldn’t go back if I wanted to.” I let out a pathetic laugh, but Mason doesn’t even crack a smile.
“And if you did?”
“I don’twantto go back. It’s…not what I thought it would be.” Though Caribou Creek hasn’t been shy about their opinions of me, they’ve been kinder than most everyone I met in LA over the past three years. And with time, groveling, and making things right, I might win them over yet.
“Life in Caribou Creek isn’t glamorous.”
I stare at the hand resting on his sheet-covered thigh, yearning to take it but too afraid to press my luck. “I know.”
“What will you do?”
“Help Grandma Rose with the diner?”
Mason stares at me for several long beats. It’s one of the rare times I can’t read his emotions or guess what he might be thinking. His expression betrays nothing. He lets out a long exhale. “I love you, Willow. But—”
Pounding echoes throughout the house.
“Someone’s at the door,” Mason grumbles, tossing aside the covers and hopping off the bed. I shamelessly drink in his rippled body as he dons sweatpants. “Get dressed,” he orders. “No one gets to see you naked but me.”
It’s almost enough to erase the earlierbut. Almost.
I hardly get my shirt tugged down when I hear my sister’s voice. “Whereisshe?” Kinley demands, sounding every bit as pissed off as I expected. Someone needs to give her a damn chill pill. Or maybe she just really needs to get laid. But someone other than that pissy stick-in-the-mud she calls a boyfriend back in Anchorage. I’m tired of hearing them argue on the phone at night.
“I’m right here, Kinley. Stop yelling.”
“You took my car.”
“Yep.”
“Without asking!” Her face is as red as a ripe tomato.
