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“I think you are a closet romantic,” I tease, flashing him a playful smile.
He smirks. “I think you are a closet nerd.”
“I’m open minded.”
“I think you are beautiful.” His face turns serious all of a sudden, and my heart skips a beat at the sincerity in his tone. I’ve been told I’m beautiful—many times before—but hearing it from him feels like I’m hearing it for the first time.
He clears his throat and looks away, quickly changing the subject. “What about a thriller? Like a murder mystery?” he asks, reaching over and grabbing a cookie.
“I think that could work.” Nodding in agreement. “Obviously, the main characters would be male and female, so—”
“No romance,” he interrupts and bites into his cookie.
Damn it.
Can’t blame a girl for trying.
We spendthe next hour going over the characters and plot. I glance over to the choc chip cookies and my mouth waters. They really do look delicious. Picking one up and taking a bite, I close my eyes and let out a moan as the flavor hits my tongue.
My God, these are amazing.
Opening my eyes, I catch Mason watching me with such smoldering intensity that I suddenly forget to chew. Feeling a cookie crumb hit the back of my throat, I fight the urge to cough and reach for the glass of milk, taking a big drink to wash it down.Jesus Christ, what is this guy doing to me?He is getting me all twisted up in knots. I never expected Mason Reynolds to have this kind of effect on me, and I’m confused as all hell as to why I’m feeling this way.
Desperate to ease the weird tension between us, I move on with the task at hand. “So I’m assuming I will be the female character and you the male?”
“Yeah, that would probably work best, and—” He stops talking suddenly, his eyes fixated on my mouth. A smile slowly spreads on his face, and he quickly looks back at his work, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip.
“What?” I ask with a frown.
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
Giving me a sidelong glance, he looks away again and breaks into a wide grin.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Suddenly feeling self-conscious and a tad confused, I pin him with a glare, and he looks at my mouth then bursts out laughing.
“Mason!” I cry. “What the hell is so funny?”
Still smiling, he cups my face. “I’m sorry. Here,” he says, gently running his thumb along my top lip. My breath catches in my throat, and his smile disappears as his gaze becomes transfixed on my mouth. Parting his lips, he puts his thumb in his mouth and gently sucks before slowly pulling it out and giving me a quick glimpse of his tongue. “You had a milk mustache,” he whispers huskily, and all of a sudden, my mouth runs dry.
I think I need another drink of milk.
“Mason! Ava! Dinner is ready,” Grace calls out, and we both jolt back, quickly turning away from each other.
“Well… um… let’s go, shall we?” he stammers and stumbles as he stands up.
“Yeah, okay,” my voice practically squeaks as I stand up also and follow him downstairs.
Grace places the meatloaf,mashed potatoes, and vegetables with a jug of gravy in the center of the table then takes her seat at the end. My stomach grumbles in protest, impatient to get its fill of the hearty food sitting in front of me. I didn’t even realize how hungry I was.
Sitting in the center of the table among all the dishes is a small weird-looking tree, with a curved trunk and branches, the leaves made out of green crystal stones.
“Mason, have you introduced Ava to everyone?” Grace asks, diverting my attention away from the strange tree.
“No,” he replies as he sits down at the other end of the table.
“Good Lord.” She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Well, you’ve already met Ali, and that is Eliza.” She gestures to the redhead sitting across from me between Ali and another red-haired boy. “And that is Alex. You’ve already met Nix, and that’s Max sitting on the other side of you.”
