Page 24 of When Sparks Fly

She’d narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t remember actually agreeing to that.”

“This isn’t a quid pro quo, I promise. But I’m in the area for a couple of days and figured having dinner with an interesting woman would be nice. So... Friday?”

Zoey had started to argue, but the idea of having dinner with a handsome man who found herinterestingwas inviting. She hadn’t had a grown-up dinner date since her divorce. Mike was moving on. Maybe she should do the same. And it was just dinner.

“You can pick the place,” Mason smiled.

And that’s how she came to be walking through the door Mason was holding open for her, into the Purple Shamrock. Yes, it was a pub. But Bridget McKinnon was an excellent chef, and the atmosphere didn’t get loud and rowdy until after nine. And Mike would be there. She trusted her friend to keep a watchful eye. Just in case she got some weird vibe from Mason—too pushy, too needy, too boring. Mike would come to the rescue.

She’d insisted on meeting Mason there. She didn’t need some stranger knowing where she lived. He’d agreed, and waited outside the entrance for her. Her eyes immediately sought out Mike at the bar when they walked inside.

He was there, staring right at her as if he’d been watching the door. She smiled and waved, but he didn’t return either one right away. He looked a little like a lost puppy. She couldn’t help looking back over her shoulder at him as she and Mason followed Kelly to a booth by the front windows. Mike hadn’t moved. What was his problem? Did he know Mason from somewhere? Was the guy an ax murderer or something? She mouthedwhat?at Mike. He shook his head and mouthed backhave fun.She couldn’t decide from his expression if it was a warning or a genuine wish.

Mason turned out to be charming, and he stood by his promise that this was just a friendly meal. They talked about their work for a while, laughing over their more challenging clients and the differences in repairing appliances from various manufacturers. Most of the time, customers got the extra quality they paid for, but sometimes...all they got was a machine so complicated in design that it was nearly unfixable once it broke.

Over dessert, she talked about her growing business in repairing antiques. Mason was more into contemporary, European design in his appliances and home decor. The more stainless steel, the better, that was his motto. She gave an exaggerated shudder that made him laugh. Stainless steel always made her think of operating rooms.

He showed her a few pictures of his gleaming kitchen on his phone. It lived up to his motto—not only stainless appliances, but also stainless counters and backsplash, against stark white walls. Interestingly, the floor was a mosaic of black, gray and white, providing the only real “punch” in the space. It wasn’t her style, but he’d obviously put a lot of thought, time and money into it.

“Wow. It looks like something you’d see in a design magazine.”

Mason chuckled. “But not something you’d have inyourhome, right? There is nothing in this town says contemporary. Let me guess—you have a beautiful Victorian home with a refurbished Roper stove in your vintage kitchen.”

She started to laugh and saw Mike out of the corner of her eye. The bar was getting crowded as the Friday night crowd assembled. But he was standing still in the midst of the chaos, staring toward the booth she and Mason shared. He was not smiling. When he realized he’d been caught, he gave her a reassuring grin, then raised his brows in curiosity and gave a tentative thumbs-up, asking if all was okay. She nodded quickly, then turned back to Mason.

“Idohave a Victorian. But it was my dad’s house, and it needs some love.” She gave him a wink. “When I eventually get to the kitchen remodel, there’s a 1951 O’Keefe & Merritt stove in my barn that I hope to have rebuilt by then.” She explained her father bought the big double oven, six-burner stove at an auction ten years ago. “Turns out it was missing a fair number of pieces, so he had to collect them over the years. I think all the parts are there now, but it needs to be assembled and painted. And it won’t even fit where my stove is, so a kitchen remodel has to happen first.”

Mason gave a low whistle. “Of course you have an O’Keefe & Merritt. That’s a pure period cooking appliance right there. I’d love to see it once you get it rebuilt.”

She arched her brow. “That’s presuming quite a lot, Mason.”

He held up his hands with a laugh. “I’m hoping we’ll be coworkers of sorts when it happens.” His smile faded a bit, but his eyes still held some laughter. “I’m getting the sense we won’t be more than that?”

Zoey hesitated. “No offense, but I doubt it. Idolike you, but I’m not feeling anything more than that. And I get the feeling you aren’t, either?”

“I think Icould, but....” He shrugged. “I’m getting ajust friendsvibe for now. Right people, wrong time?”

“Something like that. I’m notreadyfor anything thatisserious, and I’m notinterestedin anything that’snotserious. Does that make sense?”

Mason chuckled. “Actually, it does. I got divorced two years ago, and I’m still not sure I’m ready to move on or whatever my friends keep telling me to do. I guess when it’s time, we’ll know it.”

She reached over to cover his hand with hers. “When itistime for you, you’re going to make some woman very happy. You’re a good guy.”

“Ditto. Except theguypart.” They laughed again, and Mason looked around. “I wonder where our after-dinner drinks went?”

Theyhadbeen waiting awhile for their cognacs, now that he mentioned it. She tried to catch Mike’s eye, but he was busy. Or at least he wasactingbusy—when he wasn’t making drinks, he was wiping down the counter with a great deal of attention to the task. She flashed a smile at Mason.

“I can get those drinks delivered—I know a guy.” She pulled out her phone and texted Mike.

Z: Hey, parched over here!

She added a “hot” emoji with a red face and tongue hanging out. Mike pulled his phone out, and...scowled at it? It was only for an instant, then gone, but that haddefinitelybeen a scowl. He must be having a bad night. He looked up and smiled, but it felt artificial. She typed again.

Z: You okay?

M: Busy. I’ll get it to you.

No jokes. No emojis. Something was definitely not right with her friend tonight.

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