Page 18 of Hidden Resolution
Her laughter was light and joyful, causing him to grin in response.
“You two here on your honeymoon?” the driver asked with a glance in the rearview.
The assumption pissed him off.
“No,” Mason replied, sharper than he meant to.
And just like that, the mood shattered.
Why did everyone insist on a label? His chest tightened. The immediate desire to put distance between him and Shonda was like a tsunami, strong and fast, with a deadly undertow threatening to drown him if he didn’t get to safety.
Sweating profusely, with his stomach in knots, he scanned the road ahead and was relieved to spot a bar. Leaning forward, he said, “Can you pull over? I’m getting out right here.”
The stunned disbelief on Shonda’s face was a donkey kick to the sternum. But almost as quickly, her expression altered,carefully masking her disappointment and making him realize she’d seen through him to the cause of his restlessness.
Unable to offer a proper apology, Mason kissed her compressed lips and shoved a wad of cash in the driver’s direction.
“Please see that she gets back to our hotel safely.” To her, he said, “I’ll call you later.”
The vehicle pulled away, and he waited for it to disappear before crossing the street to park his ass on a barstool.
“Scotch,” he barked at the bartender. As he sipped his drink, he sat in silence, shaking his head when the lounge lizards and too-friendly patrons ventured a conversation. He needed alone time to process his feelings.
He’d be lucky if Shonda ever spoke to him again. But if she didn’t, it was honestly for the best. As an emotionally stunted man, he had nothing worthwhile to offer her.
6
Shonda was done.
Finito.
Kaput.
Gonzo.
Andsofucking over Mason Sharp’s moody, mysterious, emotionally stunted man-child behavior. Sure, she understood he had intimacy issues. His boundaries loomed higher and were tougher to climb than Everest in winter. But leaping out of a cab like it was about to explode, all because the driver had asked if they were on their honeymoon?
Pfft. Yeah, next-level jackassery.
She fumed the whole ride back to her room. Once inside, she resisted the urge to hurl things—like maybe one of those overpriced hotel vases serving no purpose except as tacky tropical décor. Instead, she opted for a long, scalding shower and promised herself she wasnotgoing to cry. Ever.
No, she wasn’t that invested.
Or not yet, anyway.
This was her vacation, too. And if Mason wanted to sulk in some dingy island bar and unravel over an innocent inquiry, it was his prerogative. But she was done tiptoeing around his hair-trigger emotions. Let the pansy-ass mope! She had better things to do than wait around on a guy who couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss her cross-eyed or ghost her.
She slipped into her cutest sundress. A bold floral print, low neckline, with a body-hugging fit screaming, “I may be alone, but about to be far from lonely.”
After a swipe of gloss and the slightest spritz of perfume, she headed out the door.
“Mason, you fuckwit! You don’t know what you’re missing,” she muttered, giving him the mental bird.
The steel drums hit her ears long before she stepped onto the tiki bar’s patio. They were playingDay-O, and her hips knew exactly what to do. She swayed with the rhythm, loose and free, letting the music work out the tension in her shoulders. She flagged a waitress and ordered a Mai Tai. Claiming a seat in the shade, she let the music settle her. This lively but relaxed atmosphere was what vacation was all about, not moody glances and emotionally unavailable gym owners.
A flash of movement caught her attention, and she did a double-take. From the back, the guy looked like her cousin. Same posture, same gait. But when she shifted for a better look, he was already vanishing into the crowd. But Billy hadn’t mentioned getting away, and they were close enough to discuss his plans.
Must be a vacation mirage. The chill in her bones was harder to shake, though.
