Page 6 of The Sweet Part
Mason
I pull a pink note off the windshield of my black Ford F-150 pickup truck, scan it quickly, and crumple it up. This superfan I metonceat Happy Endings bar won’t leave me alone. She keeps leaving her number, asking me to call because it’s IMPORTANT. I should probably get a restraining order, but so far she’s just left notes on my windshield and showed up at Exotic and Classic Restorations, where I work. My coworkers do a good job keeping her away from me.
I scan the parking lot of the pizzeria, where I grabbed a quick bite. I don’t see Evie. I hope she left the note and went on her way. The fact that the pizzeria is close to my house gives me pause. It’s possible she followed me here from home. My address is just a quick internet search away.
If she shows up at my house, I’ll tell her I’m not interested, and if she keeps trying to connect with me, then I’ll file a restraining order. That settled, I get in the truck and put her out of my mind. I’m heading to May’s future inn to take a look around.
There’s something about May. Yes, she’s beautiful with her caramel brown hair and sparkling hazel eyes, but I also loved her laugh, her sweet demeanor, her sexy midriff top. I was way into that glimpse of bare skin before her daughter arrived. That was a shock. May’s a single mom, and she was crystal clear that she doesn’t date.
Still, I couldn’t help but offer to get a drink with her in exchange for the repairs. I don’t expect her to take me up on it, and I won’t ask again. I respect her boundaries.
I just wish I could stop thinking about her.
Even her identical twin couldn’t pull my attention away. A different energy. I puzzle over that. Two equally beautiful women, but I’m only attracted to one. Sweet and sexy does it for me, I guess.
A short while later, I park and walk up the front walk of May’s future inn. I’ve seen the place before when I was in town to visit my cousins, who live across the street. It’s a classic Victorian, white with black shutters and a wraparound porch.
Sophie has her nose pressed against a front window, watching me approach. I wave. She waves, throws the curtain back, and races away. Guess she’s setting off the alarm that the famous Mason Shaw is here. I started hostingHot Findsa couple of years back when my uncle Ty stepped down for a new venture in community wellness programs. Anyway, fans of the show are mostly guys who want to shake my hand. Yesterday was my first time signing an autograph for a pint-size fan.
The front door opens, and Sophie steps out on the porch, barefoot in a purple dress with green corduroy pants underneath. “Come in!”
I jog up the front steps since it’s cold out, and Sophie’s barefoot.
May appears behind her. “Sophie! Get inside; it’s freezing out here! And put on socks and slippers like I told you to.”
“My feet aren’t cold,” Sophie protests, kicking her feet behind her in a little jig. “See?”
May speaks between her teeth. “Now, please.”
“But Mason’s here!”
“I only hang out with people wearing socks and slippers.” She dashes off just as I step inside, brushing by May. Mmm, she smells like vanilla. “Hi.”
She shuts the door. “Hi. Thanks for coming.”
No cardigan and midriff T-shirt today. She’s in a light blue clingy sweater and leggings. Still sexy.
She gestures around her. “So, this is it.”
I take in the gleaming hardwood floors of the front entryway leading into the living room. A fireplace with a white carved mantel and brick surround looks original to the house. The furniture isn’t formal like I imagined a Victorian home would have. Instead there’s two comfy-looking dark green sofas and oversized red velvet chairs. No TV.
Sophie appears at the top of the stairs and holds out a foot. “Look! I’m wearing socks and Crocs. Mason, come to my room!”
I turn to May, not sure how to respond. Sophie probably wants to show me her toys, but I’m here for a job. Besides, May might not want me to be alone with her daughter. We just met, after all. She doesn’t know I’m trustworthy.
“She wants to show you her stuffed animal collection,” May says. “We’ll do that on the way to the other bedrooms. We live on the third floor, guests are on the second, communal area on the first floor.”
I walk with her upstairs. “What’s the name of your inn?”
“Serenity Inn.”
“Interesting.”
“I’m having a sign made. Anyway, it’s a reminder to myself to find serenity amid the chaos, and I hope it’ll attract guests seeking serenity too.”
“Are you going to have a spa? That’s what I think of when I hear serenity.”
“Up here!” Sophie shouts.
