Page 106 of Ten Hammers

Mason

She isn’t going to choose me.

I glance over at Winnie as we head off on our date. Her hair is wild, her grin is wide, her cheeks are pink from the wind. She’s gorgeous.

When I suggested we take my 1972 Jaguar XK-E convertible, she beamed. When I suggested she drive—no one even sits behind the wheel of that car but me—her eyes lit up like nothing I’ve ever seen and she tackled me with a hug.

Now, from the driver’s seat, every few seconds she lets out a delighted whoop and laughs. And her laugh makes me laugh, despite the fact I can’t get out of my own damn head.

She isn’t going to choose me.

It’s a thought I can’t shake. I’ve been unable to shake it since she ran out after Gav, when it was my turn to bat, that first day in the living room, during the kisses. I hoped, back then, I’d hit a home run, but instead I’d struck the fuck out.

No. I take that back. I did shake that thought, once. For a few minutes, when she and Cruz and I were in the kitchen, I believed all my bases were loaded. But that’s only because I wasn’t thinking about anything, then, my brain completely shut down. My bases weren’t loaded, they were overloaded, with lust and joy and foolishness.

I’m in a different position than most of my brothers, because of Winnie’s thing with Max. Yeah, our personalities are night and day, but physically, Max and I are identical.

When she decided to be friends-with-benefits with one of us, who did she pick? My identical twin. Which means, even if you took the others out of the equation and it was a head-to-head competition between me and the guy with my exact DNA…

He’d take the W.

The win.

The Winnie.

The One and Only.

Good God, would you listen to me? Pathetic, I know.

But it doesn’t matter. She isn’t going to choose me.

If she was attracted to the look of me, even if only on a strictly superficial level, she would’ve just stuck with Max, anyway. Why not? She already had something going with him. Something good, apparently.

Or at least, that’s Max’s theory, which he reminds me of at least once a day.

She had me, he’s whined to me over and over. Which might actually be more intolerable if he was being cocky about it, but he’s just despondent. It’s horrific.

I was a sure thing, Mace. And still, she needs to date and fuck all of you guys before appreciating what she had? She is not choosing me. And she’s not choosing you, either. You know it deep down, too, don’t you?

I shove Max’s voice away. I’ve got to get him out of my head.

I’ve got to get out of my own head.

Because right now, my body is exactly where I have been dreaming of being. Maybe not the passenger seat of my car part, but that’s surprisingly okay. I just mean I am on a date with Winnie Wainwright.

Sure, it’s the only date we’ll ever have together, but that only furthers my desire to enjoy everything. Tonight, I’m going to live in the moment and I’m not going to give any thought to what comes tomorrow or the next day or the day after that. For tonight, even if only for tonight, Winnie Wainwright is my girl.

Mine. And I’m going to live for every single second of it.

What I’ve planned for us is pretty epic, if I do say so myself.

Winnie is taking her driving cues from the GPS, where I’d already input our destination before we hit the road. She’s completely in the dark about where we’re going.

When the GPS voice announces, “Make a left turn. You have now arrived at your destination,” Winnie turns into the parking lot. Only when we’re fully stopped in a space, does she glance over at me.

“Are we going to smash, Mason Hammer?” she jokes, gesturing to the sign on the building in front of us. The Smithville Smash Zone. She waggles her eyebrows at me.

No, Winnie. We are not going to smash. Because the word smash implies casual sex, and if I ever have sex with you, there will not be a single damn casual thing about it, Cupcake.

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