Page 7 of The Ruse of Romancing
Looked like I was right. This bearded jerk was Mason, who, despite his grandmother’s comments to the contrary, was doing just fine wooing the women with his overabundance of hair. Glad he’d clarified that. It made me feel better that there wasn’t an unidentified, strange man making out in random driveways in Cascade Harbor. But only slightly better.
“That may be true,” I said, slipping my phone back into my pants pocket and taking a step closer to the couple. The woman had remained silent through this exchange, hiding a bit behind Mason, the man who his grandmother had assured me would be “happy to help with my every need” while I was staying here. I had a feeling the owners had exaggerated his helpfulness. “But one side of this house is my home for the next several weeks. I’m the new renter.”
Mason groaned, massaging his temples. “The new tenant. Give me just a minute.”
He turned back to the woman who had been standing behind him. From what I could tell in the dim headlights of my car,she was gorgeous with dark skin and long hair, though how she wasn’t freezing in her mini skirt and form fitting, sleeveless blouse, I had no idea. I was wearing leggings and a t-shirt and was trying to fight back the chill in the air. Utah and Oregon had very different definitions of “summer” when it came to temperature.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at the bakery for breakfast?’ The woman asked hopefully, biting her lip.
Mason smacked his forehead. “Oh man, I forgot I have a meeting with a client tomorrow in Portland. I won’t be around for a couple of days.”
The woman pouted, resting her hands on his chest. “Are you sure? We leave tomorrow afternoon, and I was really hoping to see you again. It’s not every day a woman meets such a talented artist. This sketch is truly amazing!” She held up a paper I hadn’t seen her clutching. It was crumpled, probably during the make-out session I’d interrupted. “I wouldn’t mind modeling for another.”
The way her voice purred at the word “modeling” made it clear she was hoping to do more than just model for the man.
“It’s not every day a man gets to work with such a pretty subject for his sketches. You know if I could, I’d spend all weekend sketching you, give you a whole collection of drawings to take back home with you to Missouri.” He leaned in closer with this pronouncement, like he was ready for make-out session round two. Or at least, round two that I had witnessed. I had a sinking suspicion they hadn’t limited their activities exclusively to modeling earlier in the day. “You are my inspiration, Veronica.”
I wanted to gag. I didn’t know either of the people in front of me, but based on his confidence as he spoke, I had a feeling he’d just given her a line he’d used many times and she was falling for it hook, line, and sinker. This was why I preferred my mento be fictional. They were less cringe-worthy and much easier to navigate.
I cleared my throat loudly, hoping to cut the exchange short before I had to witness more making out.
Mason didn’t bother looking my way, instead he wrapped the woman in a final embrace, planting a kiss on her lips before opening her car door and helping her get settled inside.
“Drive safe, Veronica! I hope the rest of your stay in Oregon is just as magical as tonight.” He closed the door and stepped back, waving as she called her goodbyes and drove away.
I snorted and he looked up, his mouth pinching in a scowl.
“Do you have something to say?” His voice was a growl that I’m pretty sure my cousin Lucy would call “sexy.” I just found it off-putting after my long day of travel.
“Nope. Just surprised you could keep a straight face when delivering that line,” I said, as I walked to the garage door and entered the door code, the door opened to reveal a dark, empty space where I could now park. I could vaguely make out a door into the duplex on the side of the garage.
My headlights continued to be the only source of light, telling me the garage light was either out or not automatic. Another piece of feedback to pass along to the owners in the morning. As soon as I got all my belongings inside, I was going straight to bed. It had been a long day, and I was exhausted. All my feedback as a renter could wait.
“Who said it was a line?” Mason asked from where he still stood in the middle of the driveaway, arms crossed over his chest.
Dang, the man had muscles. It really wasn’t fair that the men with some of the best assets ended up being tools and players.
“Just a gut feeling,” I said with a dismissive wave, stopping a few feet away from him on my side of the driveway.
“Sounds to me like you’re jealous. Maybe you could use a modeling session.” His eyes tracked up and down my form. “I’m sure I could squeeze you in sometime during your stay.”
Gag me with a spoon.
“I’m not here for any squeezing,” I said, flinching as the inane words registered. I really was better at arguments in writing.
“Shame, I’m very good at squeezing and... other things.” Somehow his voice had grown even deeper and gravellier.
Where did men like him get the audacity?
“I’m good thanks.” I turned on my heel, prepared to climb into my car and forget about this mildly unpleasant exchange when his mumbled response stopped me in my tracks, my anger making me so heated I was no longer wishing for a sweatshirt.
“Maybe if you had a good squeeze, you wouldn’t be so uptight.”
I whirled around and stomped over to him, jabbing a finger into his firm, overly confident chest. The gesture didn’t seem to faze him. If anything, he found it humorous as his mouth ticked up into a lopsided smirk.
“I’ll have you know I’ve had a terrible travel day on top of work stress and having to deal with your over-inflated ego. So, forgive me if I’m not all rainbows and butterflies at the moment.”
“You’re forgiven.”
