Mason wasn’t sure he’d heard Livvy right. “You wanted to marry a doctor, no matter what?”
She bit her lip and looked away from him. “Yes.”
Her voice was quiet, and at least she’d hesitated, but he’d heard her loud and clear. He was definitely not going to laugh at this. Was it still her dream? Her plan for her life? Not that he was about to propose to her, but...
Her gaze returned to his. “There was a family in my neighborhood where I grew up. The father was a doctor and the wife was beautiful. She ran all the charity events, she was the school PTA president, she wore gorgeous clothing. They had three boys, and those boys grew up to go to Ivy League colleges and, well, I wanted to be like the doctor’s wife.”
“And you carried that wish into adulthood?”
She nodded. “Thus the deep, dark secret.”
Mason blinked. He wasn’t sure how to read her. “Kids always have fantasies. What I want to know is if you are still living in that fantasy? Because I can guarantee you that Mr. and Mrs. Doctor didn’t have the perfect life, no matter what it might look like from the outside.”
“I know,” Livvy whispered.
Mason tipped up her chin, and she met his gaze. What he saw in her eyes made his stomach sink. “Is that why you’re dating Slade?”
She shrugged, and Mason dropped his hand.
“How many other doctors have you dated?” he asked.
She exhaled. “I dated two pre-med students in college. Slade is the first licensed doctor I’ve dated.”
“And... you see him as the ticket to a perfect life?”
Livvy rubbed the back of her neck. “I know that no relationship is perfect. But I’ve held onto this fantasy, or dream, or goal, for most of my life.” Her pleading gaze met his. “I told you my secret was dark.”
“And twisted.”
“Yes.”
Mason looked toward the fireplace and the orange flames. “What does Felicity think?”
“She teases me about it mostly,” Livvy said. “But when I told her what happened in the library between us . . .”
Mason snapped his gaze back to Livvy. This he hadn’t expected.
“Felicity thinks I should... give you a chance.”
He nodded. “So you came over tonight?”
“Not just because she suggested it, though,” she said quickly. “I wanted to clear the air between us, and make sure you weren’t mad or anything. But now I’m kind of sensing I’ve made you mad anyway.”
“I don’t think I’d call it mad,” he said. “It’s more surprised. You’re a grown woman. You have a master’s degree. You’re an amazing person. Yet . . .”
“Yet... ?”
“I think that’s for you to answer,” Mason deadpanned.
She tucked her feet under her. “Okay, the truth?”
At his nod, she continued. “I’ve wanted to marry a doctor my whole life,” she said. “Even though I’d seen plenty of happy marriages out there, including my own parents, I wanted to be that woman in my neighborhood. Whenever a guy would ask me out, I’d ask him what he wanted to be after college. If he said anything other than a doctor, I wouldn’t go out with him.”
Mason wanted to laugh at the inanity of it all, but he’d promised not to. “So if Slade wasn’t a doctor, you wouldn’t be dating him?”
Livvy was quiet for a moment. “The old Livvy would have turned him down.”
Finally they were getting somewhere. “There’s a new Livvy now?”
Her gaze held his. “Until we kissed, I hadn’t realized what I was missing.”
Relief pulsed through Mason. “What have you been missing?” he asked in a low voice.
She touched his arm, then ran her hand up to his shoulder. Her warm fingers brushed against his neck, spreading tingles along his skin. “What it feels like to be desired by a man.”
Mason stared into her brown eyes for a long moment. “Get used to it, Livvy Harmon.”
She smiled right before he tugged her close and kissed her. Her arms went around his neck, and it was a heady feeling to have this woman fit so perfectly against him.
She broke off the kiss way too soon. “It’s your turn,” she whispered.
It took him a moment to come out of his haze to realize what she was saying. “Pilot,” he said.
She pushed against his chest. “Pilot? That’s his name, or he’s a pilot?”
Mason didn’t let her move another inch away. “That’s his nickname, but I haven’t decided what his real name is yet.”
“Ah,” she said. “And what sport does Pilot play?”
“Football.” Mason groaned. “Uh, I didn’t mean to say that. I promised to only tell you the character’s name.”
Livvy grinned. “Well, you still look like a bestselling thriller writer to me. I don’t think anything has changed because you told me which sport Pilot plays.”
He narrowed his eyes.
But she wasn’t deterred. “Is he a quarterback? Receiver? Does he break his collarbone in a crazy tackle? Or maybe gets a concussion?”
Mason blew out a breath. “Are you trying to end my career?”
She leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss on his cheek. “No, I’m trying to get you to trust me, despite my dark secret of fantasizing about marrying a doctor.” She ran a finger across his collarbone, then over his shoulder. “You know, we’re kind of the same in that way. You have a strange fantasy that if you tell someone your plot, you’re going to jinx your entire career.”
Mason gazed at her for a long moment, debating. If he expected her to give up her fantasy, then maybe he should give up his superstition. “Pilot is the star quarterback for a college team. He breaks his hand, and he’s supposed to sit out for five weeks. Which isn’t a problem since it’s the end of the season with only a bowl game to go. But when the second-string quarterback screws up in the fourth quarter, Pilot pops a couple extra pills and tells the coach to put him in. They win the game, but it’s already too late for Pilot. He’s addicted, and he can’t let anyone find out.” Mason stopped talking.
“Brilliant.” Livvy grinned. “Thank you for telling me.”
Mason felt numb. But maybe Livvy was right. The world hadn’t stopped turning.
When she rose from the couch, he grabbed her hand to stop her. “Wait, where are you going?”
“I need to get some sleep, and so do you,” she said. “Good night, Mason.”
He scrambled to his feet, his heart in his throat. Why was he feeling at such a loss with her saying she had to leave? It was probably midnight, and it was the sensible thing for her to do.
She slipped on her shoes, then picked up her coat and fished out her car keys.
“Will the canyon road be okay?” he asked as he watched her getting ready to leave.
Livvy smiled. “The roads are plowed and sanded. Remember I drove here.”
She walked to the front door, and Mason followed. He opened it for her and looked outside. It wasn’t snowing.
“Let me know when you get home,” he said.
She stepped up to him and tilted her head. “You’re kind of a worrier.”
“Get used to it.” He snaked an arm around her and pulled her close, then lowered his head and kissed her. Her warmth and scent and softness were intoxicating. Livvy was right. She should really go home, because the longer she stayed, the more he didn’t want to let her go.
He released her. “Good night.”
After she left, he stood in the open doorway, watching the road long after her car disappeared into the night.
Eighteen minutes later, she called him. “I’m home.”
“How were the roads?” he asked.
“Fine.”
A heartbeat passed, and Mason thought of all the things he shouldn’t be saying at this stage in their relationship. So he stayed quiet.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” she said.
“Of course.”
She exhaled, and he imagined her smile. “Bring breakfast,” she said.
“I was planning on it,” he told her, smiling too.
When he hung up, he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping for a while. So he grabbed his notebook and settled on the couch where he’d been sitting with Livvy and divulging his plot only moments earlier. In the orange glow of the fireplace, he began to write.
Hours later, he was awakened with a start. Thank goodness for the rumbling of the snowplow, or else Mason might have slept through the morning.
He sat up and rubbed the soreness in his neck. Apparently he’d written for hours, then fallen asleep on the couch. He glanced at the rough-hewn wood clock above the mantle, it was nearly 10:00 a.m. The library was open, and the muffins were probably gone from the Main Street Café.
Mason grabbed his cell phone. Nothing from Livvy. Huh. Hadn’t she missed him?
He ignored the knot of worry that was beginning to form in his stomach. It was as Livvy had said; he was a worrier. He’d go get whatever was leftover at the café, then show up at the library and see her then. Mason didn’t need to text or call her beforehand.
Forty minutes later, when he walked into the library and saw Livvy talking to another woman at the reference desk, he was relieved that she seemed to be okay. He browsed some of the nearby bookshelves while he waited for the other woman to leave.
He’d found an interesting book to flip through when Livvy suddenly appeared in the aisle.
“You’re late,” Livvy said, her brown eyes warm.
“I wrote most of the night, then slept in.”
Livvy squealed and threw her arms about his neck. Mason almost lost his balance but thankfully didn’t bump the bookshelf behind him. He chuckled and wrapped an arm about her waist, pulling her close.
“I told you that sharing your plot wouldn’t ruin anything,” she said.
Mason touched his forehead to hers. “And you were right.”
She smiled and closed her eyes, so he kissed her.
It seemed they were kissing again in the library aisle.
She drew away much too soon. “There are a bunch of people here since it’s not snowing.”
Mason released her and stepped back. “Better hide this in your desk then.” He held up the bakery sack.
“Thank you.” She peeked in the sack. “Banana nut?”
“It was all they had left. Do you like that kind?”
“I like pretty much any type of food,” Livvy said, then leaned into him, wrapping her arms about his waist.
He held her close and breathed her in.
They didn’t say anything for a few moments, and Mason found that nothing needed to be said. Just holding her was enough for now.
When Livvy returned to the reference desk, Mason made his way to his usual table. Two teenagers occupied his spot. They must be homeschooled; otherwise he couldn’t figure out why they were there this time in the morning.
He could do this though... write in a different spot... Walking among the tables, desks, and shelves, he found a desk that faced a huge mural painting of a woman reading books to a circle of children sitting in the grass.
A memory flashed through his mind of his mom reading stories to him at night. He hadn’t thought of that in a long time, and now it made him wonder if the early reading she did had somehow influenced his desire to write stories now.
He sat down and flipped through his notebook. His skin still buzzed from being with Livvy, and he decided it was time for Pilot to meet the woman who would be integral to his healing. A woman who would pick him up when he fell.