Chapter Twelve
It must be morning, thought Hannah as she slowly opened her eyes. The room was darkened. Drapes. He must have drapes. She peeked one eye at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Two thirty? He obviously didn’t know how to set a clock.
She opened the other eye. Water. Thank heaven for small favors. She’d never been so thirsty in all her life. She reached for the glass and spied the cuffs dangling from her wrist. Pressing the button on the cuff, she freed herself and shook her head. “Very funny, Mason.” Where is he anyway?
She gingerly sat, careful not to move her legs too much. The water was gone in two gulps. More, she needed more. And some clothes. She looked down at her bare body. She’d never slept nude in her life.
She scanned the room for something to throw on, but it was clean. He’d even removed the candles that had burned last night. Carefully, she twisted her body so her legs fell off the bed.
As her feet touched the bare floor, she heard papers shuffling in the other room. He was still here, and letting her sleep, which was nice, though she’d have rather woken up with him. She tiptoed to the closet and opened it slowly so as not to make any noise.
“You finally up, Sleeping Beauty?” What was with his hearing?
“I’m awake.” Her throat was scratchy, her voice throatier than usual. She snagged a T-shirt off a hanger and pulled it over her head.
“How’s my girl?” he asked from the doorway. The man even made sweat pants look sexy as he stretched his arms over his head and hooked his fingers in the doorjamb. Even with the ache between her legs, she stepped to him and ran her fingers up the muscles she’d yearned to touch last night.
“Hungry?” he asked. The twinkle in his eye made her wonder exactly what he had in mind for the morning.
She nodded, hoping her body was up to playing games with him.
He took her hand, tugged her into the kitchen, pulled out a chair, and opened the fridge. She noticed the clock on the microwave behind him. It read 2:35. She hadn’t noticed they were so off last night. “What’s with your clocks?”
“My clocks?” He set an egg carton and some cheese on the counter. “Do you want breakfast or lunch?”
“Breakfast.” She motioned to the microwave. “It says it’s two thirty.”
“Hannah, it is two thirty.” He cracked some eggs into a bowl.
Her heart stalled in her chest. She hadn’t slept past ten since college. “What?”
Mason shrugged and started beating the eggs. “You were exhausted.”
“I don’t sleep until two in the afternoon. Even when I take a sleeping pill. You didn’t slip me something, did you?”
“Incredible.” He grabbed a pan from the pot rack over the sink and turned to the stove.
Her breath quickened. “Mason?”
Mason chuckled, swirling butter in the pan. “Honey, I didn’t slip you anything you didn’t ask for.”
Hannah crossed her arms across her chest. “That’s not funny.”
Eggs sizzled in the pan as he turned and looked down at her. “Now I’m starting to get annoyed. Do you feel drugged?”
“No.” A little sore and thirsty and really hungry now that the aroma of the eggs hit the air, but not drugged or hung over.
He pinned her to the chair with his gaze. “Do you honestly think I would drug you?”
“No.” Suspicion hit like a reflex, a reaction so engrained she didn’t know how to turn it off. Even with the man she wanted to be with more than anything. Every stab at him hit her straight through the heart.
He turned his attention back to her breakfast. The hot blush of embarrassment crawled from her shoulders to her hairline. She smoothed the tangled mop with her hand, disappointed in herself for acting like he’d been the one to infect her with the virus called doubt. Mason busied himself making tea, pouring juice, anything but looking at her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean, I don’t think, oh hell. I’m really sorry, okay?”
He nodded, still seemingly focused on his culinary skills. With a sigh, she got up and walked to the bathroom.
She must be a ratty-haired raccoon-eyed mess. She flipped on the light and was stunned by her own skin, so clean she could see her freckles. Her pulse picked up, tightening her chest with each step back to the kitchen. “You washed my face?”
Mason backed against the counter and laughed. “You’re welcome?”
She stood on her toes, trying to look him in the eye. “When did you do that? How did you do that?”
He set his hands on her shoulders. “Last night, with a washcloth.” He sat her down in the chair and knelt beside her. “You’re really bad at the morning after. Like go-back-to-bed-and-try-again kind of bad.”
His mocking laugh irritated her more. “How did you wash my face without waking me up? I’m a very light sleeper.”
“You’ve been running on no sleep since we met. You mumbled something about mascara, and I didn’t know if that stuff would hurt your eyes, so I wiped it off. Again, you’re welcome.” He got up, took a plate from the counter, and set it in front of her.
“What exactly did you do to me last night?”
He settled into the chair across from her. “Do you need diagrams? Because I could do a flow chart that will blow your mind.”
“This isn’t a joke, Mason. I was just unconscious for the last twelve hours. How am I supposed to feel?”
“Sixteen, and grateful. You were tired.”
She rubbed her hands over her face, trying not to picture how gently he must have taken care of her while she slept. Try as she might, no memory of it surfaced. She couldn’t recall anything but how thrilling it had all been. How she’d let go and loved it.
When she looked up, Mason was across the room thumbing through his bookshelf. Hannah huffed and then drained the juice and started in on the eggs. Pepper jack cheese and roasted red peppers. Had she told him her favorite omelet last night, too?
No one could be this perfect, both for her and as a person. After all, her taste in men was tragically bad. Outside of work, her decisions weren’t all that great. There had to be something wrong with him, some fatal flaw that would hurt like hell when it was exposed.
Getting some distance would be the smart thing. She needed to put this whole relationship in perspective and not be so vulnerable. But for the life of her, she couldn’t walk away.
…
Completely paranoid. Was she always like this, or had the cards and that jackass ex-boyfriend done this to her recently? He pulled a book from the shelf and thumbed through the pages. She’d trusted him so completely last night. It stung she was so skeptical this morning.
He laid the book open on the coffee table and picked up the magazine he’d been looking at before she’d finally woken up. He’d tried to stay in bed with her this morning so they could wake up together. He’d never expected her to be able to sleep this long. He’d had time to clean the apartment and plan out their trip to New Zealand. He might have actually booked the tickets if the computer weren’t in the bedroom.
He stared blankly at the picture on the page. People climbed into huge plastic balls and ran down hills. It looked like a good time. Would she think so? “Hannah?” He looked up to find her chair empty.
“What?” she asked, coming out of the bathroom, her fingers busy braiding her hair over her shoulder.
He spun the magazine toward her. “Will you do this?”
Her eyes widened as she grabbed the magazine. Her eyes grew even wider as she sat next to him on the couch. “What are they doing? Why would someone want to run around in a giant hamster ball?”
Mason shrugged. “You’ll have to watch me, I guess. I have some other ideas.” He lifted another magazine from the stack. “This is where they filmed Lord of the Rings. Did you like those movies?”
Hannah shook her head. “Never saw them. I don’t have much time for movies.” She waved her hand across the stack of magazines. “What’s this about?”
“While you were sleeping, I went through my magazines and found all the articles about New Zealand. I found some articles on beach resorts. You pick where we stay and I’ll plan what we do.”
She turned toward him. “Do you travel a lot?”
“Three or four times a year. I’ve wanted to do New Zealand for a while though. Do you like to travel?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never done it. It’s a little frivolous, all that money just for one week.”
Mason shrugged. You get what you pay for. “We have to go for at least two weeks. And I’ll pay for it.”
“You’ll take me to New Zealand. Just like that?”
Not really, but after how spooked she’d been this morning, he wasn’t about to mention a honeymoon. “You’ll love it; I’ll make sure.” He kissed her on the cheek and grabbed for another magazine. She’d never bungee jump.
“Have you done that?” Her hand splayed across the picture of a woman diving from a bridge, only her ankles tethered. The rebound would be amazing.
Mason nodded. “Four times. Will you?”
“Jump off a perfectly good bridge? Not in this lifetime.” She turned to look at him. “Are you an adrenaline junkie?”
Direct and to the point. Deserved the same. “Yes. But I’m not obsessed with it. We can stay at a spa and experiment with just how long you can stay asleep if that’s what you want.”
“I don’t know what I want.” She reached for a magazine but came up with the book. She gasped and pulled it to her chest. “This is what you did last night.”
“Yes, but that’s not why it’s open there. There’s a paragraph below the picture about how multiple orgasms might induce sleep. It’s what I was going for, but I never thought you’d be out all day.”
“That’s what you were going for?” She buried her head in the book and began to flip the pages. “My multiple orgasms was your anything?’
“No, I wanted you to sleep here. That was my anything.”
She looked up at him slowly. “I would have done that.”
He watched her eyes move back and forth. She was trying to decide if she really would have. “You weren’t planning to.”
She cast her eyes back at the book. She flipped it around and naked bodies flashed before him. “I thought you were going to do this.”
“Why would I do that?” He closed the book and placed it on the table. “I wanted you to sleep here.” He walked his fingers up her bare leg to where the hem of his shirt rested on her thigh. “I sleep better with you.” She narrowed her eyes, and he saw her weighing his words. With each breath, the wheels turned in her head, trying to force logic into something that defied it. If he told her, admitted that he’d loved her from the first moment, that he wanted this to be their forever, she’d freak out. Anyone would, but especially a woman who had been burned before and who overthought everything. “I want you to stay here, with me.” He rubbed his fingers back and forth across her thigh, waiting for her protests.
“I live downstairs, Mason. And I’m going to be at work nonstop for the next week. I’ll be too tired for anything.”
“I’m not asking you to make love with me every night. Just sleep here.”
“Is this about the cards? Because there haven’t been any more.”
“That’s a small part of it. Just stay up here until Kate comes home.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “I should stay here when Kate comes home. She and Derek will want some time with their penguins.”
He met her smile. This was good. She was at least considering it.
“I’ll be at work a lot, too. You can use any free time to look around and get to know more about me.”
Hannah pulled back. “You want me to snoop? I’m not a snoop.”
She had to be kidding. “Hannah, you took my mail on our first date.”
…
Every night she spent in Mason’s apartment made it feel more comfortable, safe. The whole place smelled like him, the fridge was full and occasionally the bed was already warm when she got into it at night.
Her apartment had still felt like Kate’s place even after living there for years. In little more than a week, Mason’s place felt like the kind of home she’d always planned on having. Relaxing and unpretentious in a way her home never had been. Hannah reminded herself to be careful as she unzipped her boots and made her way to the bathroom. A girl could get used to this.
He wouldn’t be home tonight. She’d learned what he meant about the job scaring her. A few days ago, he’d snuck into bed thinking she was already asleep. He’d taken a shower to try to hide the day, but she’d still smelled the smoke in his hair.
He’d played it off as if it were a joke. But in her mind she imagined a made-for-television five-alarm blaze. Making love to him that night had felt like the most natural thing in the world. Slow and simple and completely terrifying. He’d fallen asleep holding her almost immediately after. She’d held on to him all night, wondering if he’d felt the change. She couldn’t even pretend she was just having sex with him anymore.
She was falling for him. A long fall that would have her crashing at the bottom when he tired of their sexual one-upmanship. Which he was still winning. She needed to up her game.
Hannah surveyed the bookshelf. Where was that sex manual? If she found a dog-eared page, she’d finally have an edge over him.
Books for work and the ones he was using to study for his exam lined the top shelf. Hardback bestsellers were on next. The paperbacks he read were in his nightstand. Political thrillers he’d called them when she came home and found him reading in bed. Photo albums were on the third shelf and a bunch of magazines on the bottom. With the sex manual on top. Finally.
She stooped down to pick up the book and then paused. Had he just been teasing her about snooping, or did he really want her to? She ran her fingers across the mismatched photo albums. If a picture was worth a thousand words…
It would certainly serve him right. She hadn’t looked through his things at all in the week she’d been staying here. Usually, she walked through the door, washed her face, and was asleep within ten minutes.
But tomorrow was Thanksgiving, so she could sleep in. She wasn’t expected at Molly’s until lunchtime and wouldn’t see Mason until he met her there at eight to go to his parents’ house together. Her stomach knotted at the thought. Sleep would be hard to come by tonight.
She’d look through the pictures to make sure nothing surprised her tomorrow. Look out for a two-headed aunt or something. Maybe see if she could find out where he got those eyes.
She curled up on the couch with an album of travel photos. He’d been almost everywhere. And from the looks of it, with quite a few women. It didn’t surprise her, but it stung. One day she’d wind up as nothing more than a snapshot tucked into an album.
With a sigh, she rose and grabbed two more albums before sinking back on the couch. Fire training dominated another album. He’d told her he’d fought forest fires during the summers in college, but the pictures made it all too real. She slammed the album shut halfway through. She’d have to finish that one day when he wasn’t at work.
An eight-by-ten of a beautiful brown-eyed baby girl stared out from the front page of the final album. Hannah smiled, immediately recognizing Ryan’s nose. This must be Rianna. Sure enough, the following pages were a testament to the McNally family devotion to the next generation. Anyone holding Rianna in the snapshots was smiling. There was one of Derek holding her at arm’s length because she was covered in spaghetti. One of Ryan with his face and her hands covered in finger paint. Mike having a tea party wearing a tiara, and one of an older woman who must be their mother brushing Rianna’s long blonde hair. A child would be so blessed to be part of this family.
Her breath caught in her throat when she turned the page. A picture of Mason asleep in a recliner with a napping Rianna curled up on his chest. He’d be a wonderful father. She squeezed her eyes shut at the notion, hot tears prickling her eyelids. She just had baby on the brain because of turning thirty next week. That’s all.
She nearly leapt out of her skin as the phone rang. Setting the albums on the coffee table, she wondered about answering it. It might cause more questions than she was willing to answer if it was his mother or an ex-girlfriend. She picked up the extension. Let an ex-girlfriend know someone was home.
“Good, you’re home. I didn’t wake you, did I?” Mason’s voice rang across the line.
She shook her head as she wiped the moisture from her eyes and then remembered he couldn’t see her. “No, I just got in.”
“I’ll be quick so you can get to sleep. I might be a little late getting out to your sister’s house. They need a few extra hands serving at the mission, and since it’s only a block away, we’re going to pitch in. Is that okay?”
Hannah shook her head. Amazing. “You’re asking me if it is okay for you to serve Thanksgiving dinner to homeless people?”
His laughter made her smile. “No, I’m asking you to understand if I’m late.”
“I think it’s wonderful.”
“Okay then.”
Hannah settled against the couch cushions and looked down at her nightgown. If he were only here. “Mason? Did you ever watch Sex and the City?”
“Not really my thing. Why?”
“One of the characters had a fling with a firefighter, and she came down for a visit one night. They had sex right there against the front of the truck.”
“Hannah,” his voice was gravelly and threatening, just the reaction she was hoping for.
“An alarm went off, and the entire crew walked in on them.”
“I was just starting to be able to sleep here again without dreaming about you.”
“Now we can’t have that.”
The wail in the background made her stomach clench.
“I’ll be fine, honey. I’ve got to go.”
The dial tone echoed against her ear as she hung up the receiver. She needed to get used to this. She’d told him she’d be okay with it. So she needed to be okay with it. He was very smart and strong, and he swore he was always careful.
She busied herself with shelving the photo albums. Her gaze held on the top shelf. He knew as much about fire as she knew about retail. He’d be okay.
The phone rang again, grating what was left of her nerves. “Hello?”
“It was a false alarm. I’ll probably be up all night losing at Scrabble. Get some sleep.”