Las Vegas temperatures might be nice now, but this city is known for their summer heat waves. And the amount of glass could easily turn this place into an oven.
“This is my house.” Mason climbs out of the car, circling to my door.
He swings it open, holding out his hand for me.
“Your house?” My eyebrows pinch. “I thought you moved to LA?”
“Technically, yeah.” He slips his fingers through mine as we make our way to the front door. “But I haven’t had it in me to sell this place yet.”
“Do you think you’ll move back eventually?” I pause at the front door when he pulls out his keys to unlock it.
My question has my stomach in knots, even if I haven’t decided if I’m staying in LA either.
He glances over at me, his gaze skimming from my eyes to my mouth, and I wonder what he’s reading on my face, when I know I’m not hiding anything well right now.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t plan on coming back here permanently. I’m just not ready to get rid of the house yet.”
His confirmation makes the desert air feel lighter as I follow him inside. And once I do, I can see why he’s in no hurry to sell the place.
“This is beautiful.” My jaw goes slack as I look around.
It’s an almost entirely wide-open space with a staircase on one side that extends to an upper level. Everything is white and gray, as bright as it was on the outside. And sitting on the side of the house that faces the sunrise is a courtyard filled with cacti and desert plants.
The walls are made entirely of tinted glass to offer a view of the stretch of desert. There are big loungers to relax in, and it’s stunning.
“You okay?” Mason smirks as he sets our bags down on the table in the open-plan kitchen.
“This place is incredible.” I’m still wide-eyed when I look at him. “Are you loaded, or are you just joking that you own the house?”
He tips his head back and laughs. “It’s mine. I got access to my trust fund when my grandparents passed away. That’s how I bought and maintain this place.”
“I’m confused.” I glance around at the incredible home. “You own something as nice as this, but you’re renting Sage’s crappy apartment above the shop? Why?”
Not that I can judge when I’m staying there as well. But it doesn’t make sense if Mason can afford this house.
Mason looks around his home. “I like living above the shop. It’s nice out here, but it’s also really fucking quiet.”
I follow his gaze around the room. The decor is simple and sleek, but the more I take it in, it doesn’t feel like him.
“Besides, I never really cared about the money.” He rests his hands on the counter. “I didn’t work for it. It isn’t mine.”
I meet him in the kitchen, taking his hand.
“In LA, I’m not Mason Zane, casino heir. I’m just some guy inking people, paying my rent, and getting by. My inheritance from my grandparents is enough to keep this place maintained for now, but eventually, I’ll have to sell it or figure something else out. Until then, I’m parking the funds here so I don’t blow it. Unlike my dad who turned his inheritance into more family blood money.”
He squeezes my hand, and a familiar cloud hangs above him at the mention of his father. It’s impossible to know what we’re walking into tomorrow when we go to the hotel, but when he talks about his dad, I see a side Mason rarely shows. A side he escaped when he moved to LA.
“Starting over can be a good thing.” I smile, and he returns it with one of his own. “I get that.”
After all, I left everything in San Francisco. My clothes, my furniture, my savings. I didn’t need money or possessions if they would keep me tied to Carter. And I was luckyto have my brother and Mason there to catch me when I fell. To look out for me. They afforded me the security so many women in my position don’t have.
I look up into Mason’s blue eyes and want to lift on my toes and kiss him. I want him to wrap his arms around me so we can fall into the comfort of each other when we’re at a loss for words. And I’m not sure if it’s because I slept in my own bed last night that I’m holding back or if it’s because I appreciate that I can stand here with him in silence, but I don’t move.
We hold hands and just pause when the world’s been spinning so fast it refuses to slow for a single second.
We exist in this moment—two broken people still trying to figure ourselves out.
My stomach breaks our focus by rumbling and Mason laughs. I haven’t eaten since dinner last night, and my body is finally taking notice. My cheeks warm with embarrassment as my stomach growls again.