Mason’s holding my hand, and my belly is fuzzy with nerves.

I haven’t been on an official date with Mason in nearly four years, and I’m nervous. He told me we were going to the Seaside Village to listen to live music and grab dinner from the food carts, so I wore a sundress and a pair of white sneakers. It’s not the world’s sexiest outfit, but you wouldn’t know it by the way Mason looked at me when I joined him in the living room.

The village is bustling with the end-of-summer vacationers. When I first came down here, I wondered if Mason hated how busy it was, but he said it quiets down mid-September. That’s right around the corner, and I’m looking forward to enjoying this beautiful space with fewer people.

“Wanna get some food?” Mason asks as we wander the grassy area, checking out the local artists.

“I’m starving. What’s good here?”

He points to a trailer across the square. “They sell the best street tacos in town.”

I grin. “We got tacos the first night we met.”

He squeezes my hand. “I remember,” he says softly. “Want to find us a table, and I’ll go order?”

I nod and reluctantly release his hand. I’m a nervous eater, so I’m ravenous—or at least, it feels like I am. Picnic tables are scattered across the common area, and I find one tucked between two vendor carts and wave at Mason to show him where he can find me.

“It’s my favorite photographer,” someone says as I take a seat.

I look up and see Hayden Owen slide onto the bench opposite me. “Hey, Owen. What’s up?”

“You know, just a typical Monday night off, trolling the beach for hotties.”

I laugh. “Really? Any luck with that?”

He shakes his head. “Not a lick. You have any single friends?”

“Not really.” I prop my elbows on the table and study him thoughtfully. “Too bad, though. You seem like you’re not an asshole, which is my first requirement in setting up my friends.”

“You’ve got my number. Absolutely not an asshole.” He folds his arms and wraps a hand around each bicep. “Come on, there’s gotta be someone.”

I sigh. “Not really. There’s a bad case of serious relationships running around our group, like it’s contagious or something.”

His lips twitch. “Not big on commitment yourself?”

My gaze drifts across the meadow to Mason, and I can’t help but smile. “He married me while I was drunk in Vegas. What do you think?”

Owen laughs and shakes his head. “Fuck. Can’t blame him. Boy did what he had to do, and now you’re in his bed for good.”

I’m not in his bed at all. But then, here we are, on a date. Maybe that’ll change tonight. My skin tingles at the thought.

“I admire that.” He lowers his voice. “Not that I’d tell him. Your husband’s been trying to steal my place as our quarterback’s favorite receiver, so you’ll understand if I need to bust his chops and help him remember who the veteran is.”

“Sure. I understand. Bust all you want.”

“I hear your photography services are in high demand,” Owen says. “You haven’t even been here a month, and the guys are practically bribing Mason to get their wives in sooner than the others.”

I laugh. “I have plenty of time for everyone.”

“Do you have a business card?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s not that kind of business—nothing that official. It’s just something I do sometimes for a little extra cash.”

“Well, give me your info, and I’ll tell my friends about it.”

“Owen, I don’t do men.”

He chuckles. “I meant my female friends.”

I put two fingers to my lips, suspicious but not wanting to be a bitch.

“What?”

“You have female friends?”

His jaw drops, and he puts his hand on his chest in a picture of outrage. “I’m offended, Bailey. Why do you think I couldn’t have female friends? I’m a really nice guy. You said so yourself—not an asshole.”

“I’m sure you are, but you just strike me as the kind of guy who doesn’t know how to draw the line at friendship.”

He wags a finger at me and tsks. “Quite the contrary. I insist on drawing the line there. And I have plenty of female friends.”

I fold my arms. “Really?”

“Truly.”

“Female friends you’ve never fucked?”

“Sure! I mean . . .” His eyes dart away before coming back to me. He extends a hand in my direction. “I mean, there’s you. We’re friends now, right?”

I can’t help it. I laugh really hard. “That’s what I suspected, but you can go ahead and give them my info if they’re interested. I’ve gotta keep myself busy somehow.” My gaze catches on Mason, who’s heading our way with a tray of food and the biggest margarita I’ve ever seen.

Owen follows my gaze. “You should make that boy give you a real wedding. You know, with the fancy white dress and flowers and shit.” He nods at me. “You deserve that.”

“Ah, but there you go assuming I want the big wedding with a fancy dress and flowers and shit.”

He arches a brow. “Don’t all women?”

“No. Not all women.”

“Huh.” He looks sincerely baffled, and it’s kind of adorable. “So, let me get this straight. You like football. You take naked pictures of pretty ladies.”

“Clients are rarely naked.”

“Okay, so sexy pictures. Still.”

“You trying to steal my date, Owen?” Mason asks as he sets the food on the table.

Owen looks at the food then back up to me. “You actually eat and enjoy real food, not that rabbit shit. And you don’t like fussy things like fancy weddings.”

I laugh. “That pretty much covers it.”

“And you’re hot—”

“Watch it,” Mason growls.

Owen holds up both hands, palms out, as if defending himself against an oncoming blow. “Not being a sexist pig, just observing facts, and objectively speaking, your wife is not unpleasant to look at.”

“Thanks, I think?” I pop a chip into my mouth, and Owen watches.

“I’m just gonna put it out there that if this whole marriage thing doesn’t work out for you and Mason, you should look me up.”

Mason takes the seat beside me. “Fuck off, Owen.”

Owen just laughs, totally unashamed by being caught flirting with his teammate’s wife.

Mason wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me against his side. “She’s claimed.”

I turn my head, twisting awkwardly to meet Mason’s eyes. “Claimed? Like a cow at an auction?”

Owen chuckles. “I’m just saying you’d better treat her right. If you do, you don’t have to worry about me, do you? And if you don’t, well then, at least she knows she has options.” He winks at me, flashing a dimple before looking at Mason. “That’s the stuff of dreams you have in your arms right there.”

Mason lowers his head and whispers in my ear, “Don’t even think about it. I would fight him for you, and I’d win.”

A shiver races through me, up my spine and down my arms, making my skin tingle and heightening my awareness of how it feels to have him close. I could get used to dating my husband. I like it a lot.

Owen gives a self-satisfied smile and stands. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Have a nice night.”

“We will,” Mason says. “Now fuck off so I can enjoy my wife’s company.”

Owen walks away laughing.

Mason offers me the giant margarita. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I hope strawberry is okay.”

Grinning, I take it from his hands and take a long drink. It’s cold and sweet and makes my chest warm. “Perfect. Where’s yours?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not drinking tonight. I’ll have a drink of yours, but any more than that and I’ll feel shitty at practice.”

“You’re really dedicated.”

He shrugs and drops his gaze to my chest before lifting it back to my face. “There are plenty of other things for me to enjoy tonight.”

My cheeks heat, and I scan the food in front of us as an excuse to look away. He got us chips and guac, salsa, queso, and at least a dozen different tacos. “Geez, Mase, hungry much?”

“You love tacos. I wanted to make sure we had enough.”

I scan the smorgasbord of street food and shake my head. “I’m not sure how much of this is going to end up inside me.”

“If I had a nickel for every time I heard that . . .”

I smack his chest. “Dirty.”

He grabs my hand before I can pull it away and meets my eyes. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight.”

“You’re welcome. I’m having fun.”

He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles before releasing me.

My cheeks grow warmer, and I study the tacos again so he won’t see how much his sweetness affects me. I want to ask him if he’s finally planning to sleep in the same bed with me tonight and what this date means. Are we going to sleep together? Did I scramble to get a fresh wax for nothing?

Just breathe. I take another long pull of my margarita and search for a safe subject. “So, you remember our wedding?”

 

I have to be careful about the way I reply to that. I’m going to have to be careful about the way I handle all of this. “I remember flashes. Bits and pieces.”

She takes a bit of the buffalo chicken taco and closes her eyes while she chews, only looking at me after she swallows. “No offense, but what the hell were we thinking?”

Note to self: don’t watch her eat. You’ll take her home before the night even gets started. “If I remember correctly, you were trying to get in my pants, and I told you we had to be married first.”

She puts down her taco and turns to me. “You didn’t.”

I shrug. “It seemed reasonable at the time. I was drunk, and you were playing hard to get, like always. Can you blame me?”

“Yes.” She nods vehemently and reaches for the margarita. “In fact, I’m blaming you right now. That was a terrible idea.”

I want to ask her what makes it so terrible, but I know she’ll feed me the same old shit about us coming from different worlds, and right now I just want to focus on tonight.

She turns back to her food and frowns. “So, did we sleep together?”

“Nah. You were too drunk, and the next morning when you were sober you were too fixated on the goddamned ring to give me a chance.” It’s been so long since I’ve been inside her, I wanted our next time together to mean something more to her than another slip-up, another mistake. She’s not drunk now. She’s wide-eyed and aware, and making me question all my very noble reasons for staying out of her bed.

She coughs. “I was too drunk to screw but not too drunk to marry? You’re a shining example of hypocritical personal ethics.”

I grab a taco—I think this is the BBQ pork—and shrug. “I have to be able to look at myself in the mirror in the morning.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

I grin. “You’re on an actual date with me for the first time in four years, Bailey. If you ask me, it’s working out great.”

 

My stomach is full, my skin is warm from the margarita, and I can’t get the smile off my face. We walk home hand in hand under the light of the moon to the sound of the rolling waves.

“Did you have a nice time?” Mason asks when we step onto the porch.

Nodding, I turn to him and put my hand on his chest. “You give good date, Mason Dahl.”

He grins and cups my face in one big hand before slowly lowering his mouth to mine. The kiss is soft and sweet and far too brief. When he pulls away, I lean into him, resting my head against his chest.

“I hope we can do it again,” he says, as if this is a normal date and he’s about to drive away, not walk into the same house and sleep down the hall from me.

“I’d love to,” I whisper, and he holds me and strokes my hair, in no more hurry to get inside than I am.

When my phone rings, I reluctantly pull away and dig it out of my purse. I’m surprised when I see Sarah’s name on my caller ID. “Sarah?” I ask as I put the phone to my ear. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course. I . . .” Sarah clears her throat. “Listen, I was hasty when Faith asked you to come to dinner with us. I’m so used to it just being the three of us—her, Brandon, and me—and I said no before I really thought about it. Are you free?”

Mason opens the front door and waves me in. I step into the house and head to the kitchen to find my planner—not that it matters. I could have fifty clients scheduled Friday night, and I’d reschedule every one if it meant I got to go to Faith’s birthday dinner. “Of course I am. Are you sure?”

“Yeah. She loves her Aunt B. I’m sorry if I get a little protective.”

I write a note in my calendar—not that I think I’ll forget—and Mason watches me curiously. “It’s okay. Should I meet you at the restaurant?”

“No, no, just meet us over here if you can. Um . . .” She draws in a long breath, and I realize this isn’t a simple case of her changing her mind. She wants something.

“What do you need, Sarah?”

“Brandon saw the news. I wasn’t going to tell him about your husband, but that wedding video of yours has gone viral, and he . . .”

Seconds ago, I was warm from Mason’s touch, but now my skin chills. I don’t want anyone using Mason or trying to use me to get to him.

“Listen,” my sister says, “I know it’s awful for me to ask, but I was wondering if you could bring your husband with you to dinner. Brandon would just love to meet him, and I would too, of course. I mean, he’s my baby sister’s husband, so I should meet him, right?”

I could point out that she’s manipulating me, or that I shouldn’t have to play tit-for-tat to see Faith, but I don’t. Faith’s turning six, and I want to have dinner with her. If it’s okay with Mason, it’s worth it, right? “I’ll ask Mason,” I say, lifting my eyes to meet his. “But I’m leaving it up to him. If he can’t come, does that mean I’m not welcome?”

She gasps. “Of course not. I know it’s awful to ask you to bring your celebrity husband, but you should come either way.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek. I don’t believe I would have gotten this invitation if it weren’t for Mason, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to miss my chance. “I’m not trying to interfere with her life,” I say, my voice low. “I’ve never done that.”

“Can you blame me for being cautious? You can’t deny that you’re not the best role model. I know I’m uptight and need to relax . . .” I hear the clink of glasses and imagine her washing dishes. “I’m trying, okay? But it helps to see that you’ve got your life together, that maybe you’ve turned over a new leaf.”

How is marrying a rich guy turning over a new leaf? I bite my tongue so the question can’t escape. I don’t want to fight. I want to see Faith blow out her candles and open her presents. I want to celebrate with her. “I’ll see you Friday night, then. I’ll ask Mason to come, but I’m not making any promises. He’s really busy.”

“Of course, we understand. I mean, he’s an NFL player and all.” She laughs nervously, and I feel nauseated. I feel bad for keeping the temporary nature of my marriage from my sister, but telling her the truth will only confirm all the reasons she already thinks I’m a bad influence on Faith. “I’ll see you,” she says.

“See you. Thanks, Sarah,” I say before ending the call. I stare at my phone for a few deep breaths before lifting my gaze to meet Mason’s.

“Is everything okay?”

I nod and set my phone and purse onto the counter. “Remember my niece I told you about?”

“Faith?” he says, and something tugs in my chest that he remembers. Of course he does.

“She turns six this weekend, and my sister wants us to come to her party. Any chance you’d be willing to go?”

He frowns and steps forward to pull me into his arms. “I’d love to.” He tilts his head, studying me. “I’m a little surprised you’re asking.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the reason I was invited at all.” I lean my head against his chest and close my eyes. My frustration with Sarah fizzles away when I’m in his arms. I feel so safe here. “Her boyfriend’s a big fan, and he wants to meet you. Before he knew about our marriage, I wasn’t invited to the party.”

He pulls in a breath through his teeth. “That’s awful. I’m sorry.”

“My sister likes to keep me at an arm’s length. She doesn’t let anyone close.”

He chuckles. “Are you telling me that’s a genetic condition, then?”

I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze. I don’t want this night to end. I don’t want us to remember that this is temporary or that I don’t belong here. “I’m pretty sure she’s ashamed of me. But I married an NFL player, so I guess I make the cut now.”

“Why does she treat you like that? That’s bullshit.”

I pull back to meet his eyes. “I don’t even care right now. I just know I haven’t spent Faith’s birthday with her since the . . .” I hesitate. “Since the day Sarah adopted her. I’m happy I get to be there this time.”

“She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?” He studies me, and for a second I think he might see the truth in my eyes. For a second, I wish he would. It doesn’t matter how sure I am of my decision to let my sister raise my child; carrying the secret alone is exhausting.

“You have no idea.”

He rubs my back. “I think it’s time to say goodnight.”

“Am I sleeping alone again?” I ask.

“That’s why it’s time to say goodnight. I’m trying really hard not to change my mind about that.”

“Why?” I bite my lip. “There are a lot of things way more worth your effort than staying out of my bed.”

He chuckles. “We’re taking it slow, remember?” He dips his head and skims his lips over mine. “And when I’m finally inside you again, I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

A slow shiver shimmies through my whole body. I just might like slow.