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What the hell? “Andie,” he called from the bottom of the stairs. Nothing. He tried again, louder and firmer. “Andie.Come down here and t—”Slamwent the bedroom door. Guess she wasn’t interested in sharing whatever the fuck had set her off.
He didn’t mind talking. Dealt with tears better than a lot of men. But he drew the line at drama. Not interested. Andie didn’t want to go to the party—didn’t want him here? No problem. He knew how to slam doors too. Starting with the fancy front one on her house.
Less than a block from his parents’ place, he pulled over. Smacked his palms off the steering wheel and ripped a few curses. Maybe he wouldn’t bother with the party. Going without Andie held zero appeal, and not only because there’d be questions. Today was the first day of her son’s trip to the cottage—two weeks of seeing her whenever and as frequently as he wanted.
So why was he sitting here alone? It’d taken some serious sweet-talking, a healthy dose of dirty talk and a few omissions of the truth to convince her to go to the party with him. Freaking out that way…she must’ve had a reason. Probably stress over meeting his friends and family. Shit, just this morning she’d told him—again—how nervous she was.
He’d been an idiot back there, letting his past experiences affect what he had going with Andie. He definitely should’ve tried harder to put her mind at ease. Instead he’d bailed like an immature dumbass.
Enough knee-jerk reactions—on both their parts. He made a U-turn and hit the gas. They had a party to get to. If he hustled, maybe she’d still be wearing that dress.
* * *
ANDIE
The dress went back into the closet. She liked it too much to return it. Hopefully it wouldn’t be outdated by the time she had an opportunity to wear it again.
One by one, Andie fingered the hanging clothes. Lots of colors—red, purple, orange, teal. Bold patterns, curvy tops and dresses. Jeans that showed off her body instead of hiding it. Enough high heels to stock a small boutique.
Obliterated from her wardrobe were tan, blue, pastels, hideous practical shoes and anything pleated. A shiver ran down her spine from thinking about the stuffy crap she used to wear. If Mason thought she dressed too sexy for his family get-together, too bad. She shut the closet doors and walked away. Never again would she change her clothes—or anything—to pacify a man.
Agreeing to go to that party had been a mistake, one made in a moment of Mason-induced weakness. He did that to her—stripped her of sensibility and self-protection. The way her heart pounded in his presence, or even from hearing his voice…god, a simple text from Mason sent her mentally skipping through a wildflower meadow, surrounded by animated, singing forest animals. It was ridiculous and she needed to get a grip. Pronto.
She had no business meeting his friends, let alone his family. That was the kind of thing real couples did. People with plans to take their relationship from casual to committed. People who didn’t have an age gap that made such a thing impossible.
She flopped on the bed with a sigh. But maybe she’d overreacted a little about his comment. The dresswasrather on the sexy side for a backyard barbecue, especially one where she’d be surrounded by strangers who would undoubtedly be judging her. Strangers to her, but not to Mason. In a way, she couldn’t blame him for questioning her wardrobe selection. It’d just been so automatic to get defensive. Dammit.
The fist that’d tightened around her heart as he burned out of the driveway squeezed again. Anger, regret and now a pinch of guilt—the deluxe combo, the trifecta of toxic emotions. She pushed up from the bed, wandered to the closet and said goodbye to the dress. Tomorrow she’d return it. She’d never be able to wear it without thinking about their fight. But as much as today sucked, it was for the best. Being alone with Mason was wonderful. Thinking she could be part of his everyday life was crazy.
With Dylan on vacation at the cottage and Lasha out of town at a singles mixer, Andie was on her own for the rest of the holiday. She ought to go downstairs and work. The uber-frilly MacMillan bridesmaids’ dresses weren’t going to sew themselves. Or, she could eat the remaining half tub of heavenly hash ice cream on the deck, then nap the day away in the sunshine. Now that was a better plan for healing a grumpy heart.
* * *
ANDIE
She plucked the spoon from her mouth, turned to the screened french doors and sighed. Again with the doorbell. Her neighbors were sweet and well meaning, but Andie was running out of polite ways to say no.
Already today, she’d turned down red-frosted cupcakes. Then maple-glazed-bean-and-back-bacon casserole. Mrs. Karnowski’s Canadian-themed food creationssoundedwonderful. From experience, Andie knew that no amount of Imodium combated the aftereffects of her neighbor’s cooking. The memory of potato salad à la Karnowski sent a particular chill up her spine.
“Hey, babe.” Mason’s voice snapped her out of the stomach-churning reminiscing. He stood on one of lower steps, hands behind his back. “I tried the front door, a couple times.”
“I heard it.” Let him think she’d purposely ignored him, for a few minutes at least.
“Yeah, I figured.” He climbed one stair. “I was deciding whether to bust it down when the old folks next door half-ran across the front lawn at me.” A couple more stairs disappeared behind him. “They told me you were on the deck and I should come around back.”
“Of course they did.” How many times since Scott moved out had the Karnowskis asked her when she was going to get a nice, new young man in her life? She’d sure done that. Just very short term. And now thatyoungerman was on the top step looking sheepish and sexy at the same time—a look that worked well for him and melted her resolve faster than ice cream in the hot July sunshine.
“The lady said to give you this.” A small, clear bowl came from behind Mason’s back.
Andie stiffened. “Oh god. That woman is trying to kill me.”
“With potato salad?”
“Don’t be fooled. That’s the devil in disguise.”
“Smells good to me.” He pulled the serving spoon from the bowl, loaded to overflowing, and lifted it toward his mouth.
The ice cream container fell to the deck as she launched her body at Mason. “Stop…” She bounced off his super-solid chest, taking the vile concoction with her. As in, dumping the bulk of it down her chest. “For the record, you owe me your life.” She flicked a chunk of potato off her nipple area. Disgusting. “Not to mention a load of laundry.”
