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She kicked away and kept swimming. Who was she kidding? She would last maybe half a day before she came back to the room, overwhelmed by peopleing.
They met in the middle again, and he growled, surprising her.
"Just don't go to parties at some random shady house. Your roommate's not here to drag you to one, and you're better than that."
She rolled her eyes and swam away with renewed vigor. When they met in the middle again, she said, "Fine but don't go tackling anymore suspects either. Your back is already hurting, isn't it? Probably from a day of traveling and sitting in one position."
She kicked away. God, she was harping on him like she had a right to! She had no right to act like this. So what if this idea of him digging into some case while here made her nervous? It was his life, and he could do what he wanted. He was a big boy.
She flushed as she remembered just how big. They met in the middle again.
"Damn straight it hurts. I'm going to the hot tub. You're welcome to join me," his voice trailed off as he turned toward the stairs.
Of course, she wanted to join him. But she didn't want to appear too eager, so she waited until he was stepping out of the pool. Damn, that ass was fine.
She followed him to the built-in hot tub directly in front of their glass door. The lights in one of their neighbors' rooms turned on, but she didn't even bother to look. Instead, she followed Mason and stepped into the steaming water.
"I thought you were going to write and work on your book?" he asked as he pushed the button to turn on the jets.
"I am. I brought my laptop. Hopefully, I can push past this mental fog and get in the zone."
"Did you bring the Writer's Block or Writer's Tears?" His eyes twinkled, drawing her sharp gaze.
She smiled and slid back against the jet. "Nope, those are long gone. Enjoyed the hell out of them too, so thank you."
He nodded and pretended to tip his hat. "Anytime, little lady."
She chuckled and looked up at the sky. It was growing dark now, and the sun was setting over the horizon.
Ray's house was small but functional. Two stories with only two bedrooms and a shared bathroom upstairs, it was the perfect size for her. Living alone for the first time these past few weeks had given her the peace she needed to really tackle her novel.
Only she hadn't expected it to be so lonely. Her book had invariably turned into some sort of cozy mystery romance.
She had the mechanics down, had read enough to know how it was supposed to work. But when she wrote some scenes, it was all clinical with no feelings.
And her scenes from before the Christmas incident with Mason had a rather lackluster view on sex. She knew it was because of her limited experience.
And now... Every time she went to write, she kept daydreaming different ways Mason would act. What moves he'd make. How he'd make her feel.
She sighed as the sun sank below the horizon. She felt Mason's foot brush against her calf, and her breath caught in her throat. The man was a mystery. One minute, he was telling her no relationship. The next, he was asking about her book and playing footsie.
Before this vacation was over, she intended to unravel as many layers of him as possible. And finish her damn book.
A head peaked around the edge of the building, and Lucy frowned. The staff worker came around the corner carrying a paper bag with a receipt on the front. "Room service for 362?"
Mason looked over his shoulder and waved. "That's us."
He hauled himself up onto the edge of the hot tub before standing. Mason thanked him and took the bag to the two reclining chairs, moving the side table to be between them.
Lucy followed him as the staff member left. She shivered as the night breeze off the ocean hit her wet skin. Mason asked, "Do you want a towel? Hold on."
He darted inside, then returned with two towels. He tossed one to her, and it hit her in the face. She blinked, not expecting it, and snorted a laugh.
He chuckled and sat down. "You ok?"
She nodded and wrapped it around her. "Yeah, just wasn't ready, I guess."
"Sorry, I'll try to warn you next time," he said.
