Page 150 of Stolen Moments

I guess Rylann is right—we are more similar than I thought.

“Work is work.” His hands grip the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white from strain.

It’s been months since I’ve been with Mason, but I can still read him. Something is clearly bothering him as his jaw and grip tighten.

“What are you not telling me?” I blurt.

He turns to me with a furrow in his brow, and the look sends a wave of humiliation washing over me. I’m the one that set this whole thing in motion by lying to him, and here I am, asking him to lay all his cards on the table.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I—”

Mason places his hand on mine, electrocuting me with his touch. “It’s okay. It’s not what you think. I understand why you kept your…” His jaw ticks as his brain works to communicate while mine shorts out. “Arrangement a secret. Why you did what you did. If we stand a chance, we have to both be honest with each other from here on out.”

I nod as tears sting my eyes. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you. I just… I didn’t want you to change your opinion of me. When I was with you, I was the real me. The me that wasn’t hindered by being scrutinized under a microscope every day of her life. With you, I felt free.”

He twines our fingers together and brings my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I felt the same way, baby. I still do. We will get there again.”

For the rest of the ride home, Mason keeps my hand grasped tightly in his, driving us towards my place in comfortable silence, our conversation about his work long forgotten.

Nostalgia washes over me as I remember sitting next to him as he drove down the coast along the Pacific Ocean. It was one of the best days we spent together.

Mason pulls into the driveway and cuts off the engine. “Stay right here.”

I watch as he opens his door, climbs out, and walks around the car. He opens my door and offers me his hand. I place my palm in his, basking in his warmth.

The piece of my heart that doesn’t want the night to end twinges in my chest as he walks me to my door. Henry yips from his kennel as my feet hit the porch steps, bringing a smile to my face.

Mason cups my face, tilting my chin up as he runs his thumb over the apple of my cheek. My body tenses with anticipation, waiting for him to kiss me, but the kiss never comes.

“Go on inside, and I’ll bring in your bags.”

“Okay,” I whisper as both relief and disappointment wash over me.

My body is at war with itself when it comes to Mason. I want to throw myself at him, and at the same time, keep him at arm’s length.

Unlocking my door, I step inside and make my way to my tiny pup. His little Yorkie tail waggles with such force that his whole body twists with the movement. I open his cage, letting him out before cleaning up the training mat. I’m washing my hands in the kitchen sink when Mason walks through the door, carrying my bags.

Henry races toward him, barking a hello, as Mason places my bags on the floor. He squats down to pick the little furball up, and the sight of Mason’s big-muscled body cuddling the tiny pup nearly does me in. Why is it so hot seeing big burly men with little dogs?

“Hey there, Henry. Have you been taking care of your mom for me?”

Henry barks.

“Good job. You make sure to chase all the guys away from her, and I’ll spoil you with some of those doggie cookies. Do you remember those?”

Mason scratches behind Henry’s ear, and my traitorous dog practically rolls onto his back mid-air for Mason to rub his belly.

The man who stole my dog’s loyalty looks over at me and smiles. “He missed me.”

“Yeah, I guess he did.”

“Was he the only one?”

“Fishing, are you?” I lean against the counter.

“Maybe.” Mason places Henry on his paws. “Does it help if I say I missed you?”

“Doubtful,” I quip.

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