Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73094 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“It’s not that, Jesse.”
“Hey. I like lone-wolfing it. I’m not going to judge,” I told him as I began to walk off.
He leaned his head back, looking up at the blue sky then back at me. “Wait.”
I turned back toward him. “What’s up?”
“I really don’t feel like being alone right now. I’m just… fine, I am pissed. I’m pissed about the article, and I thought I could shove it all away and throw a party here tonight to make me forget it. I wasn’t expecting anyone to see me like this.”
I furrowed my brow. “See you like what? Hot, shirtless, looking like a fucking poster-perfect cowboy in the sun?”
For the first time his expression broke into a smile. “I’m a disheveled mess. Inside and out.”
I puffed out a laugh. “There’s a reason people call you a hot mess, though. You still look good even when you’re struggling. And you don’t have to hide that. Not from me, at least.”
He studied me. “Why do you give a damn?”
“About you?”
“About a random guy you met in a bar?”
I shrugged. “Because talking to you was the most fun I’ve had in years, probably. Because usually I’d rather disappear than have to make conversation with strangers, but I found myself enjoying every moment of it last night. Maybe that’s just a normal, everyday occurrence for you, but it isn’t for me.”
“Doesn’t happen to me often at all,” he said.
I smiled gently. “So you’re admitting I’m special.”
“Fuck off.”
“No take-backs. I’m fucking special.”
“Are all hockey players as egotistical as you?”
“A lot of us are,” I said, “but I’m still special.”
I caught a hint of a smile on his face now, too. “Fine. You are. But the jury’s still out on whether or not we can be friends. Maraschino cherries? Really?”
“All day, baby.”
The wind blew through his hair. “Jesse, I don’t care about the article. Don’t worry about me. Shoving away the bad and acting like I’m all good is just how I roll.”
“Well, you sure don’t look bad from where I’m standing.”
A bird chirped in the air above us. He paused for a moment, breathing deep. I couldn’t imagine how he must have felt all morning—alone on the big, sprawling ranch, trying to handle all his shittiest feelings alone before stuffing them down.
And stubborn as hell, just like me.
“Just wanted to get this leveled before I have friends over tonight,” he said. “Let me finish up, rinse off, and I’ll be down in the kitchen in fifteen, okay? Make yourself at home, Jesse.”
“You sure?”
He gestured toward the sliding doors that led to the back of the house. “My house is open. Have at it. Stay for the party, too, if you want. I only decided to throw one a couple of hours ago.”
“In between texting me about wanting your tongue in my mouth?” I interjected.
He paused, looking at me for a moment, calculating something behind his eyes. A breeze blew past again, his hair blowing to one side.
“It’s been a weird day,” he said.
“Tell me about it.”
Mason’s expression lightened, like clouds briefly giving way to blue skies. It was almost like I could see him burying his emotions in real time, trying to avoid the way anything actually made him feel.
He turned to the side and sneezed, then abandoned the shovel and walked toward me. He gave me a quick pat on the back.
“Going to go hop in the shower,” he said as he walked toward the back door, sliding it open. “I’ll be down soon. I want your opinions on a cocktail I’m making for tonight’s party. Don’t come upstairs unless you want to see me naked. Which I’d be okay with, honestly. Be right back.”
I walked in through the double doors after him. He was already bounding up his stairs, taking them two at a time.
Well, fuckin’ alright, then, cowboy, I guess it’s going to be like that.
The Mason tornado had whipped past. He’d cut off the conversation about the article pretty quickly, snapping right back into his nothing-matters, time-to-have-fun personality.
But I didn’t fucking buy it.
His friends may have been happy to ignore how Mason really felt, but I didn’t believe for one second that he ‘didn’t care’ about that article.
I waited in the kitchen. I looked around like I’d just entered some celebrity’s home, seeing it in daylight for the first time. The tall windows let in tons of natural light. There were incredible views of the trees and stables in one direction and the ridge of the mountains in the other, with the backyard nestled in between. Exposed beams ran along the high, vaulted ceiling inside, and in the daylight, the dramatic stone mantle above the fireplace looked even better.
Mason walked down the stairs ten minutes later in blue jeans and a fitted white T-shirt. His hair was still wet as he came into the kitchen.