Mason had become accustomed to every sound in the library. The slow hiss as the heater kicked on. The faint squeak of the front doors when they opened. The quiet rasp of the books as Livvy or Mallory replaced or organized the books on the shelves. The tapping of the keyboards at the reference computers. The rise and fall of the library patrons’ whispers.
So when he heard the soft tread of tennis shoes coming up behind him, he had no doubt that Livvy was trying to surprise him. That, and he could smell roast beef. She must have brought him lunch.
Before she could touch him or say a word, he reached his arm back and grabbed a leg.
Livvy yelped, and he laughed, then tugged her onto his lap.
Her smiling face came into view, and her arms slipped around his neck.
“How did you know it was me?” she whispered.
“I have very keen senses,” he said, taking the sack from her hand and setting it on the table behind her.
She gazed at him with those beautiful brown eyes of hers. Mason wanted to take twenty years to finish writing his book too, but in truth he was only a couple of chapters away from the final climax. Then it would be smooth sailing from there.
“Come here,” he whispered.
“We’re in the library.”
“That hasn’t stopped you before,” he said.
Livvy’s cheeks flushed pink, and she bent a little closer.
Mason tugged her the rest of the way and kissed those berry lips of hers. Her fingers moved into his hair, and he ran his hands up her back.
The front door to the library squeaked open, and Mason drew back. It would only be seconds before whoever had entered would be able to see the librarian sitting on his lap, kissing him.
Livvy seemed to realize this in the next moment and leapt from his lap.
Mason chuckled softly as she set the sack of food under the table, then brought her finger to her lips. “You can eat in the back room if you’d like,” she said, then moved away to see if whoever had entered the building needed any help.
Mason waited a few minutes, then he picked up the sack of food and carried it to the back room that doubled as a storage room and sort of office. A small fridge sat in the corner where Livvy kept drinks, so he grabbed a water bottle. He’d donate to the library fund later, or just bring in another case of water bottles. There was much to be desired in the cramped space, but Mason wasn’t all that picky. He’d rather write in this library, close to Livvy, than stay in the million-dollar rented cabin.
His thoughts turned to the cabin. It was now mid-December, which meant he had less than two weeks. He and Livvy hadn’t technically discussed his leaving date, and he knew they were both putting off that conversation. They should probably get it over with.
Would they try the long-distance thing for a while? Then let it fade?
“Hey you,” Livvy said, coming into the back room.
“This is great, thanks,” he said. “I saved some for you.”
She waved him off. “I ate my turkey sandwich.”
Mason grimaced.
“Are you ever going to tell me why you hate turkey?” she asked, walking toward him, then slipping her arms about his waist.
He looked into those warm brown eyes of hers. Eyes he trusted. Eyes he cared about. “It’s one of those long, sad stories.”
Her smile was soft. “I still want to hear it.”
“Okay,” he said. “Maybe tonight when you come over to my cabin and we’re in the hot tub together.”
Livvy laughed. “Sounds like a bribe.”
Mason winked. “As always, swimsuits are optional.”
He loved it when she blushed.
Mason leaned down and kissed her forehead. “As much as I love being distracted by you, I’ve got to get my pages in. You can eat the rest of that sandwich. It’s got some real meat in it.”
She smirked at him, and Mason was tempted to stay in the back room a little longer, but work called. He’d been bringing his laptop since Thanksgiving, and that had made the writing go much faster. There was no doubt that the transition had been due to Livvy calling him out on his superstitions.
She knew most of the plot by now, except for the climax and the ending. He didn’t even know the exact ending. With Livvy bringing him lunch, he’d be able to continue writing at the library longer—which was where he was the most productive. In the cabin, he found himself pacing the floors, staring at the towering pines, or giving in and watching football.
He sat back down to write, and the next two hours flew by, which was always a good sign.
A text pulled him out of his focus. He checked his phone to see that Dawson had texted. They’d had a few conversations, had even met for lunch one day, but this invitation was unexpected. Dawson had invited him to watch the bowl game at his place. The guys will all be coming.
It didn’t take much deduction to know that the guys included Slade.
Mason stared at the text for a few minutes. Dawson had told him that Slade knew about him and Livvy, and so Mason wasn’t quite sure how hanging out in the same group would turn out. Would Slade be cool, friendly? Would they ignore each other? Would Slade say something stupid?
Mason exhaled. Although he was in Pine Valley for only a couple more weeks, he had nothing to hide. And Slade would just have to live with that.
Mason texted back: I can come for a little while. He wanted to also spend time with Livvy. Seeing her every day at the library was great and all, but he found that he liked spending evenings with her. No writing, no revising, just Livvy.
He returned to his laptop, figuring he could get in another hour of writing. His word count was seventy-six thousand, and while most of his books were eighty to ninety thousand words, he usually ended up fleshing out some scenes while he was in the second draft stage.
Pilot was in the process of turning his life around, although the demons were still hitting hard. His girlfriend, named Renee, was a lot like Livvy, Mason realized. Renee saw what needed to be done and did it. Even when it meant she put her own life at risk when she intercepted a drug deal.
“Hey, I’m off,” Livvy’s voice cut in.
Mason’s thoughts reverted from story world to library world.
Livvy looped her arms about his neck from behind and rested her chin on his shoulder.
Mason powered down his laptop.
“No fair you won’t let me read anything,” she said, her warm breath tickling his neck.
“Soon,” he said. “Only a few chapters to go.” He turned his head toward her, catching her cinnamon scent. Maybe he wouldn’t go to Dawson’s.
“Hey,” Livvy said. “I know you’re planning on telling me your long, sad story tonight, but Felicity wants some help decorating the bookshop. And she can only do it after hours.”
Mason nodded. “Sure, come over after that.” They’d pretty much established hanging out at the cabin as their choice of location. Mason had no roommates, and well, it was a nice cabin. “Dawson invited me to his place to watch the bowl game.”
“Oh, yeah?”
Mason didn’t really like the excitement in her voice. She was always encouraging him to get to know more people in Pine Valley. A way of getting him to maybe move here... on one hand, he was flattered; on the other hand, he did have a life in San Diego.
“Okay then,” Livvy said, her voice more perky. “You do your thing, I’ll go do my thing, then we can hook up later.” She released him and straightened, and Mason felt the loss of her touch immediately.
He watched her walk away, her bag slung over her shoulders, wearing no coat—of course—and no boots, despite the snow outside. Tonight they should really talk about when he was leaving. They had to be realistic.
Or maybe they could talk tomorrow, or the next day. Mason wasn’t quite ready to pop their bubble.
He wrote for another hour. By the time he left the library, the bowl game had already started, but it wasn’t like Mason had to be on time or anything. When he pulled up to Dawson’s place, there were lots of cars in the parking lot. But Mason had no idea which car or truck belonged to who. He snatched the sack of food he’d picked up along the way, then climbed out of his Jeep.
Mason knocked on Dawson’s apartment door, and moments later Dawson opened it with a grin. “You’re late.”
So apparently he could be late.
Mason handed Dawson the sack of food. “Brought some stuff.”
“Thanks, man,” Dawson said. “Come in and join the gang.”
The living room of Dawson’s apartment was crowded with about eight guys. Dawson pointed Mason to a kitchen chair that he’d brought in just as a touchdown was scored. Everyone jumped from their seats and cheered, except for a dark-haired man who groaned.
“Jeff’s cheering for the other team,” Dawson told Mason with a laugh.
Jeff looked over at Mason. “Who’s your team?”
Mason glanced at the giant TV screen. “Neither.” His gaze also caught the faces of the other men in the room. And yep. Slade was in the group. Slade didn’t look away from the TV though. Who knew the doctor was such a football nut?
“That’s great to hear,” Jeff said, rising from his spot and extending a hand. “I’m Jeff Finch.”
Mason refocused on Jeff, knowing that it would be seconds before Slade realized who’d joined the party.
“Jeff’s a real estate agent,” Dawson told Mason. “Watch out or he’ll be selling you property before you know it.”
Jeff’s brows rose. “Are you looking? Single or family dwelling?”
Mason cleared his throat. “Uh, I’m renting a cabin for a bit while I finish my book.”
“Oh... you’re the writer,” Jeff said, casting a significant look at Dawson.
Dawson only smirked and moved away.
“You’re from San Diego, right?” Jeff continued.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Mason said, wondering why the room suddenly seemed very quiet. Had someone muted the game? He could practically feel Slade’s gaze boring into him. Hadn’t Dawson told his friends who else he’d invited?
“Cool,” Jeff said. “I wish I had more time to read.”
Mason nodded as if he understood. Some people considered reading a luxury, but then they spent hours every day watching TV or football or whatever their poison was.
Mason sat in one of the empty chairs, and Jeff took the seat next to him. Apparently they were now friends, and Mason wondered if Dawson had been completely serious warning him about being pitched on real estate by Jeff.
“I can’t imagine even trying to write a book,” Jeff said. “I mean, how do you keep all the characters and events straight?”
Mason shrugged. It was a common question from readers. “It’s sort of like watching a movie or a television series. You get introduced to one set of characters and plotline at the same time. It’s the same with writing. You create a character at a time, then figure out how that character interacts with others and the world around him.”
Jeff actually looked interested. But the atmosphere of an intense football game with a bunch of guys probably wasn’t the place to wax poetic. Some great play happened, and the men cheered again.
Jeff rubbed his face. “It looks like I’m doomed.”
Mason focused on the game, purposefully not looking over at Slade.
Dawson settled into the chair on the other side of Mason. “I put all the food in the kitchen, so you can load up a plate whenever you want to.”
“Thanks,” Mason said.
Jeff turned to Mason again. “So how long are you in Pine Valley? And have you ever thought of having a second home?”
“I’m only here for a couple more weeks,” Mason said. “The cabin owner has other renters coming in for Christmas.” As soon as he said it, he regretted revealing that bit of information. Since he and Livvy hadn’t discussed particulars, he’d hate for her to hear about it from someone else.
“It’s about time,” someone muttered.
At first Mason thought the comment had something to do with the football game, but by the way the room suddenly went silent, he realized that the comment had come from Slade.
Now Mason couldn’t ignore the guy, as much as it would be the easy way out. He looked over to where Slade was perched on the edge of the couch. The man’s green eyes were on Mason.
“Hey man, chill,” Dawson said to Slade.
Slade only seemed to tense more.
Really? Was the idiot doctor going to suddenly decide that Livvy was worth more than the dirt he’d treated her as?
“I should go,” Mason said under his breath.
“What’s going on?” Jeff said, looking from Mason to Slade, then to Dawson.
“Nothing,” Mason said and rose to his feet.
Across the room, Slade stood, his gaze not moving from Mason.
Dawson stood as well. “Don’t leave, Mason. Things are cool. Football’s the great equalizer, right?” He laughed and looked about the room, but no one laughed with him.
Now Jeff was on his feet. “Have I missed something?”
Jeff was tall and broad, and Mason hoped the guy would be on his side. But all these men had probably been best friends their entire lives, so the smart thing for Mason to do was leave.
Leave Dawson’s place, and leave Pine Valley.
“He’s dating Livvy,” Slade said, his tone clipped. Cold. Clinical.
Heat pulsed through Mason, and he felt all eyes focus on him.
“Wow, I didn’t realize,” Jeff said, his voice a mixture of surprise and humor. “Awkward.”
“Yeah,” Slade continued. “I don’t think we’ll be too sad to see him go. Then Livvy will finally come to her senses.”
Mason should just leave. Now. Let Slade have the final word. Instead, Mason stepped forward. “Livvy came to her senses on her own. You only have yourself to blame, Doc.”
It was obvious that Slade wasn’t expecting Mason’s comeback. Slade blinked, his jaw tight, his shoulders stiff.
Mason took another step, and Dawson’s hand clamped on his shoulder.
But Mason wasn’t finished. “If you were ever off your phone for more than five minutes,” he told Slade, “maybe you’d see the value of the people in your life who aren’t paying you to spend time with them.”
Just then Slade’s phone rang, and Mason wanted to laugh at the irony. But he was still too pissed.
Slade’s face reddened, and he pulled out the phone from his pocket, then read the screen. A panicked look crossed his face, and Mason finally did laugh.
“Go ahead and answer it,” Mason ground out. “You know you’re not the only doctor in town. And once you understand that you aren’t God’s gift, you’ll appreciate the real relationships in your life.”
Slade’s phone stopped ringing, so now the only sound was the sports announcer on TV talking about an illegal helmet grab.
No one spoke. No one seemed to be moving. A muscle twitched in Slade’s jaw.
Slade’s phone rang again, and this time he did answer it. His face went red, but he spoke into the phone in a controlled, calm manner. Ever the professional doctor.
Slade strode past Mason and walked into the kitchen.
“Well, I think I’d better go,” Mason told the room at large. “Sorry to bring the drama.” He felt he’d gotten his point across, even if it meant all the men in this room now hated him. And if nothing else, he’d at least defended Livvy.
“That was awesome,” Jeff said, his eyes flashing with mirth.
“Glad I could entertain,” Mason said.
“Don’t go,” Dawson said. “Slade will probably be leaving any second by the sound of his conversation.”
“Yeah, stay,” one of the other men said. “I’m glad you told Slade why Livvy dumped him. He needs to get over himself.”
“Sit,” Dawson said, his hand on Mason’s shoulder again. “Really. Slade needs to get used to you being around.”
Mason met Dawson’s gaze and noted the acceptance and challenge in it.
Mason decided to take the challenge. “Okay.”
Dawson grinned.
Mason realized Dawson was right. Slade came out of the kitchen a couple of minutes later, mumbled a goodbye while managing not to make eye contact with Mason, then left.
A few moments later, Mason fixed himself a plate of food and found that he was quite hungry.