Chapter 19

The next morning, I wake up to find Saturday starting off to a relatively dull and quiet beginning. As I emerge from the bathroom, yawning sleepily and shuffling along in my fuzzy pink slippers, I think about how great it is that I am still here at Mason’s house safe and sound and not in Nick’s bed feeling violated and gross.

Walking out to the kitchen, I’m surprised to see that Mason is nowhere around. Shrugging, I turn on the coffee pot that looks untouched thus far this morning. Maybe he’s sleeping late or something, enjoying the leisurely morning. Once the coffee pot beeps, I pour myself a cup and add creamer and a little sugar.

I decide to walk out to the back porch. It looks like a crisp, bright and sunny day and I don’t want to waste a single minute of it indoors if I don’t have to. I like being outside on the deck. It reminds me of being back at Grandma’s house, during the good times when she was still alive and not ravaged with sickness.

We always loved to watch nature together, quizzing each other on the types of trees and birds adorning the yard. I sigh with contentment and grip the coffee mug with two hands, watching the lake in front of me.

I have to admit that it’s lovely and peaceful to live in a luxury environment like this, to wake up and step outside to see a lake in the backyard…if only this were my own home and not someone else’s. The probing question of rent still lingers in the back of my mind and I know I need to address it with Mason as soon as he wakes up. Enough is enough, and we need to talk eventually and work out a payment plan.

Once I’m finished swigging down every last drop of the delicious (and expensive) coffee that Mason buys and shares with me, I start to get bored sitting out here on the deck all by myself. The only life out here is wildlife, and the blue jay that flies by isn’t in the mood for talking.

I glance behind me where the living room and part of the kitchen are visible through the sliding glass doors. I don’t see Mason stirring about, but it is highly likely that if he is around and notices me out here he wouldn’t necessarily walk out to greet me.

Our relationship is fuzzy and confusing to say the very least, if you could even call it so much as a relationship. Last night was the most we’d talked in two weeks.

Walking back inside, I stand over the sink to rinse and wash my favorite coffee mug that I brought with me from Grandma’s house. There’s still no sign of Mason anywhere. I decide to go to the front of the house and glance out the blinds through the front windows.

Mason’s truck is gone. Well, that means he’s not here and yet again I’ve missed out on an opportunity to flag him down and snag a deal for the rent. Sighing with frustration, I walk back to my room and grab a pair of fresh jeans and a green tank top. It’s already warm outside on this beautiful spring day and I know I won’t need much more than a light jacket…if that.

I step into the high-tech shower and stand there, watching the room fog with steam from the heat of the water. I’m still trying to figure out where I stand with Mason, and for now I feel like I’m treading through a sea of uncertainty, just trying to stay afloat and getting nowhere.

When I get out of the shower, I let my hair dry naturally and put on a little bit of blush but nothing too extreme. I like to keep a subtle and natural look. I just kind of wander around the house, bored on my day off from the bakery. I fix myself a turkey sandwich and eat it alone at the kitchen table.

By now, the silence of the house is deafeningly quiet, and I just can’t stand it anymore. It’s after lunch and Mason has yet to make an appearance back at home. Then, a light bulb triggers in my mind. I bet he’s at work. I remember that he works across the street from Alexa’s bakery, at this motorcycle shop called Lone Star Cycles.

I scoop up my keys and grab my bag near the garage door and open it, climbing into my car. I’m on a mission to find Mason and confront him about the rent situation. Yeah, it’s awkward, but I’m so ready to just get this talk over with already. The faster we clear the air between us and work out a system and plan that works for both of us, the better off I will feel in the end.

I’m just the type of girl who needs resolution and as much as I hate to have to be the one to bring up the uncomfortable subjects, they are valid and need addressing.

When I get to Main Street in the center of our sleepy Texas town, I sigh with relief as I luckily find the best spot possible in the front. Right as somebody is backing out of a spot right in front of the shop where Mason works, I slide my Toyota Corolla right in and shut the door.

Walking up to the door of the shop, I’m suddenly engulfed in a feeling of nervousness. I’m already here though, and I can’t let my anxiety stand in my way. I’ve already allowed my Uncle Marshall to walk all over me, it’s time to prove to myself that I’m independent and strong.

I step inside and take a deep breath. There is a huge counter at the front of the store with a nerdy guy standing behind it, wearing glasses who appears to be in desperate need of a haircut. He’s not exactly who I’d picture to work at a motorcycle shop.

“Hello,” I greet him with a polite smile.

The guy looks up at me from his computer where he had been typing something into the keyboard. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, I um…I’m looking for Mason? Mason Sharp? Does he work here?” I nervously fire a round of questions at him and suddenly feel embarrassed.

“Yep, he works here,” the guy nods. “He’s in the back. Just follow that hallway and it will lead you out to the service center bike shop.”

“Oh good,” I sigh with relief. “Thanks so much.”

“No problem,” the guy says as he gets back to whatever he’s doing on his computer.

I walk toward the back and enter the service department. I can hear contemporary music playing on a radio in the background. That’s where I find Mason, sitting on a rolling stool and crouching over a bike that he’s working on, gripping a wrench. I want to just stand here and watch him, take in how sexy he is when he’s in his element. But that would not be very smart. I have to be strong here.

“Hi,” I clear my throat to alert him of my presence.

He sits up and stares at me, looking so very sexy and handsome with his blue eyes and greasy, stained mechanic clothes.

“Hey,” he says and gives me a confused look.

I glance up at a red sign on the wall that reads ‘Employees Only.’

“Should I be in here?” I inquire skeptically and point to the sign.

“It’s fine with me,” Mason shrugs. “I own the place.”

“Oh wow,” I say, looking around to investigate the shop, and I’m impressed. “It’s nice back here.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles and picks up a rag on the table next to him to wipe off his hands.

“It must be cool to be your own boss. You never have to call in sick.”

Mason gives me another funny look. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Right,” I nod softly, suddenly feeling awkward. My attempt at humor did not go over well.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Mason glances up at me as if he’s trying to politely find a way to ask me what the hell I’m doing at his shop.

“Yes, actually there is,” I say and take a few strides closer to him. “I wanted to talk to you about the living arrangement.”

“Okay,” Mason responds and furrows his brow in question.

“Well first of all,” I begin, and stand a few feet closer to him. “I just want to also thank you for that Nick thing the other day.”

“That guy is a creep, it was my pleasure,” Mason says with a hint of disgust while referring to Nick. “He’s not my friend,” he confesses. “He was over at the house with another friend but he won’t be back over after last night.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” I say, biting on my lip.

“No problem,” Mason mumbles and scratches his ear. He glances back toward the bike he’s working on.

“So what I really wanted to talk about was rent,” I tell him.

“Rent?” Mason scrunches up his nose.

“Yeah, I want to pay you rent,” I say. “I owe it to you.”

Mason folds his arms over his chest and glances at me reflectively for a moment before saying anything.

“Well that’s a new one.” He leans back over his bike ready to go back to work but adds as an afterthought, “You don’t hear girls talk like that very often.”

I resent the comment, but I decide to swallow my pride and give him the benefit of the doubt. Bravely, I step closer to him and swat his arm. “That’s sexist as hell, and totally rude. Also if you could look at me instead of at that stupid bike, I’d appreciate it.”  

Mason glances up at me, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Why do you want to pay me rent?”

I look at him as if he’s crazy. “Because it’s the right thing to do,” I snap, resising the urge to throw my hands in the air.

Mason buries his face in his bike again. “Don’t worry about it.”

I’m dumbfounded and baffled but won’t give up the fight yet. I stand there and stare at him, watching him use the wrench and admiring his skill even though I have no idea what he’s doing. Whatever it is, it all seems to come natural to him.

“You are a piece of work,” I finally blurt out.

Mason squints up at me again. “Excuse me?”

I throw my arms at my side, feeling exasperated. “Come on dude, you have somebody who’s willing to throw cash your way to foot the bills and you are acting like it’s no big deal?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Mason shrugs again.

“Why don’t you want me to give you rent money?” I refuse to quit. Deep down I’m worried that if he doesn’t let me pay, I’ll have to stake on my room. He can kick me out whenever he wants.

“Why do you insist on paying it?” Mason says and finally sits up again. “It’s not like I need it. You’ve seen my house—I have money.”

“I’m not worried about your finances…That’s not why I want to pay rent.” I stumble and trail off. He’s got me all flustered now.

He looks like he’s having fun giving me hell, and I don’t know whether to take it all in stride or burst into tears and run away. With what I’ve been through lately, I’m considering the crying option.

He shrugs again, which annoys me to no end. He tries to crank the bike, but even I can tell that the motor has no intentions of staring up. Grunting, he twists his wrench on a bolt and removes it from the bike engine, tossing it into a container bin beside him on the floor while reaching for another tool behind him.

I can’t help it, he’s so sexy and I love watching him work, even if he is being irrationally irritating right now. I admire a man who can own and run his own business, yet he still wants to be a part of the grunt work, being behind the scenes and working hard. I know what that feels like, to know you did a satisfying day’s work and feel the glory of gratification at the end of the day.

I stand here watching him, silently observing him while he moves seamlessly and effortlessly.

“You really love your work,” I tell him in an appreciating tone.

He coughs and stands up, climbing over the stool to retrieve a bottle of water out of a shiny stainless steel fridge.

“I love fixing up bikes,” he admits and wipes the sweat off his brow. “There’s something magical about it.”

During the movement of his arm grazing across his face, I catch a glimpse of his fantastically chiseled biceps when his shirt moves up from the action. He’s really hot, but I’m far too embarrassed and shy to let him know that. Besides, I learned my lesson already when he kissed me and stalked off, never to speak of it again.

I’m attracted to him, undoubtedly. There’s something about his rugged, tough guy demeanor that sets me off and makes me tingle in all the right places. It’s not like I want to date him or anything—he’s made it clear that he doesn’t like me that way—but I wish our relationship could be based on a sturdier, leveler ground. It’s hard to live in a house where I don’t feel welcome or wanted, but on the other hand here he is telling me I don’t have to pay him a dime.

“I’m sorry,” I continue. “I just don’t feel comfortable with not giving you any money for letting me stay with you.”

Mason glances at me and straddles his metal rolling chair again. “You said it wouldn’t be forever, right?”

“Huh?” I ask, confused.

“You said you won’t be staying with me for very long…” he reminds me.

“Oh right,” I say with a nod. “Well be that as it may, I still feel like I owe you…I don’t know…something.”

Mason studies me as if I’m an alien creature from a foreign planet. I think back to that sexist comment he made and wonder if he’s ever known a girl that pays her own way.

“Look,” I tell him and take another step toward him. “Even if it’s cheap, please…allow me to express my gratitude by giving you some cash ever week. That way, I won’t feel so guilty.”

“There’s nothing for you to feel sorry for,” he grunts, and I admire his muscles as they flex through his work as he pulls off another piece to the motorcycle.

“But I want to pay,” I say softly, wringing my hands together.

Mason lets out a scoffing chortle. “I don’t give a damn about money.”

“Then call it a return for the favor of getting that guy Nick to leave me alone,” I plead my case.

Mason laughs again. “That guy is a huge prick. He deserves to be put in his place anyway.”

“So what do you want me to do?” I groan and throw my hands up in frustration.

“Nothing.” Mason shakes his head and turns back to his bike as if to show me with his body language that he’s done discussing the matter. Then, apparently, he has a change of heart because he spins back around. The wheels make a squeaking sound underneath him. He glances me up and down, sizing me up. “You worry too much.” I guess that’s his final argument and assessment.

“It’s not about worrying,” I fire back. “It’s about doing the right thing.”

“There you go sprouting off girl scout honor stuff or whatever,” he playfully jabs me.

It hurts, I won’t lie. I’m appalled by his reckless ability to take my feelings into account or spare them in general from affliction.

I gasp at his audacity, biting my tongue before I spew out some vile words I’ll really regret later on.

“Fine, if you are going to be that way, then maybe I’ll just move out,” I shout at him and spin on a heel, jogging out of the service room before he has a chance to stop me.

I race back to my car, my face flushed. I hated to be a lit fuse, but right now, but he was being totally unreasonable. And sometimes it feels really good to have the last word.