Page 45 of Black Roses

Instead of my mind flashing forward to what usually happens next, causing me to freak out and send them running, my thoughts wander aimlessly, recalling small moments in time from the past few months. Moments like when I first saw Mason in the airport and my knees went weak. Moments like when he protected me in the parking garage and at the marathon. Moments I watched him at the gym when he was unaware of my admiration.

Before I fully comprehend what’s happening, our tongues mingle together in a perfectly choreographed dance that has me feeling it all the way down to my toes. He’s tasting me, feasting on my mouth, devouring my lips. He breaks the kiss and our lungs simultaneously fill with the oxygen we’ve deprived them. His lips go on to find my neck, and I’m absolutely sure he can feel my racing heartbeat under his prodding mouth.

A sigh, that sounds more like a mewl, unwittingly escapes my throat as my head falls back to give him more room to work. His hand comes around behind me, pressing him tightly against me, his strong chest flattening my breasts. His hard groin against my belly.

I feel the panic climbing my spine like rungs of a ladder. It’s fighting with the warm tingling sensations shooting through each arm, leg, finger and toe.

Mason pulls away, just enough to spare me his erection. It’s almost as if he heard my silent plea. He stares into my eyes, forcing the anxiety back down into the pit of my belly where it always lurks, waiting to rear its ugly head.

His arms gently caress mine and he smiles. Not a full-blown face-cracking smile. A soft, alluring, intoxicating smile that curves up one side of his mouth more than the other. I find myself staring at his lips once again as they part when he asks, “Are you moving to New York yet?”

I let out a sigh of relief. A laugh of comfortable friendship. A smile of . . . happiness? “Not hardly,” I reply.

He kisses me on the top of my head and turns to leave. Just as he reaches the door, he spins around. “Just so you know, I’m not moving to New York either. But it’s not out of the realm of possibility. I really, really like New York.”

My eyes narrow as I allow his words to sink in.

He winks at me and then disappears through the front door.

chapter eighteen

mason

I sit on a blanket and watch Piper with Hailey as they kick a soccer ball between them in the park. Well, as much as a twenty-two-month-old can kick a ball. But I think she’s getting the hang of it. ‘Uncle’ Gavin has made sure of that, being he was a soccer star during his years at UNC.

Piper seems to be getting more relaxed around her as the afternoon wears on. At first, when we were eating lunch—a fabulous spread courtesy of Skylar and Mitchell’s—Piper didn’t even make eye contact with Hailey. I was worried. No, terrified was more like it. These two girls are the most important people in my life and if they don’t get along there isn’t even a choice in the matter.

But now, after I intentionally stepped away, pretending to get a call from my agent, I dare to hope that maybe there is a chance at this after all. Piper’s demeanor is guarded and a bit forced, but at least I see potential there. And I won’t give up. I won’t give up until the fat lady sings and does the damn hula in her thatched skirt and coconut bra.

I haven’t taken the easy road in love, that’s for sure. Figuring out Piper Mitchell is like trying to do one of those Chinese puzzles. Just when I think I’m getting somewhere, I wind up back at square one.

I lost a lot of sleep last night thinking about her. We have a connection. A deep undeniable bond I’ve never felt with another woman. I hesitate to even use the word soul mate because it makes me sound like a pussy-whipped lap dog, but damn it if that’s not exactly how I feel.

I’ve analyzed every look and every conversation, much like how I study and scrutinize game film at practice. I’ve tried to dissect every anxiety attack. She came close to having one last night. That kiss, it was—shit, it was better than all the sex I’ve had rolled together in one big package. That kiss was epic. If I wasn’t already falling for her, that kiss was reason alone to.

She kissed me back which was somewhat unexpected. When our eyes met, there was a clear hesitation. I could almost hear the wheels in her head spinning—deciding to choose door number one or door number two. In the end, she not only chose the right door, she fucking decimated it, burning it to the ground with the heat that exploded between us. And the sound that came from her when I kissed her neck, that fantasy-provoking mewling sound will stay with me far beyond the six weeks I have left with her.

That heat, however, was almost instantly squelched like a flame deprived of oxygen the instant I pressed into her and she felt my hard-on. I knew immediately. I could feel the panic rising in her as much as if it was my own. I knew I had to stop or I could push her past her breaking point. And breaking Piper would wreck me.

But then something happened when she was on the brink of anxiety pulling her under. She looked at me. Hell, she lookedintome. And I swear I could see the wave of calm wash over her beautiful face. It wasn’t unlike what happened before in the parking garage and at the marathon. Somehow, when our eyes connect, her panic wanes. I’m not conceited enough to think I can fix her and remove all the demons in her life, but maybe I’m the one who can make her realize life is worth living after whatever happened to her.

Hailey runs over and jumps on my back, knocking me forward onto the grass. I pull her around to my front, pinning her on the ground so I can tickle her pint-sized ribs. Her sweet, childish laughter seems to echo through the park.

This is living.

I look down at my scar and give thanks to Coach Braden for saving me. I look up at the clear-blue sky and hope my parents can see their spectacular granddaughter. I look over at Piper to see her studying my interaction with Hailey. I could swear her eyes get misty, but as soon as she catches me watching her, she clears her throat and starts kicking around at the ball abandoned by her feet.

What was that look? I can normally read her easily. Like an old favorite book. When it comes to how she reacts to me, she’s completely transparent. I know she has feelings for me. Feelings that run far deeper than she wants to admit. But when it comes to Hailey . . . well, it’s like that Chinese puzzle.

My daughter rubs her eyes, my clue that the day has taken its toll. I pick stray pieces of grass from her platinum-blonde curls and then look at my watch. My heart sinks. It’s almost time for Cassidy to pick her up. The days I’m with her fly by in an instant, the hours are like minutes and the seconds tick away painfully fast.

I gather up our things. “Time to go, sweet pea.”

I swing the backpack on one shoulder and Hailey up on another. “Ready?” I ask Piper.

She nods, picking up the soccer ball before we make our way through the park and out to the subway.

The whole way, Hailey points out and counts every bird she sees, making meaningful adult conversation almost impossible. Then she starts humming her favorite Disney song. “Sing, Dada,” she begs. I can’t deny her request, so I pull out my phone and tap on the screen, finding the song to accompany me.