Page 36 of All Your Reasons Why

It’s not that I want to spend any more time with Mason tonight. Not at all.

12

ROWAN

I staredown my opponent at the other end of the table. Mason has cleared away all of the dishware and set up red Solo cups at both ends of the table, filling them with water.

It’s Ruby and me against Mason. Ruby and I are going to take turns. The first person to get five quarters in a cup wins.

“You’re going down,” I say to Mason.

He replies with a roguish smirk. “That’s what she said.”

Ruby and I both groan. “Not in front of my sister’s innocent ears,” I say indignantly.

That makes Ruby laugh. “Are you mistaking me for some other sister I’m not familiar with?”

I give her a scorching look and wonder if it’s too late to put her in a chastity belt.

As for Mason, I didn’t mean it as a double entendre at all. I think. Or maybe I did, subconsciously. It’s been too long since I’ve been with a man. There are probably cobwebs down there.

I need to win as soon as possible and get the heck out of here, because I keep thinking of Mason in ways that I shouldn’t.

Fortunately, winning won’t be a problem.

“There’s something I should tell you,” I say, after I flip my first quarter. It sails through the air, bounces on the table and lands in the cup with a splash. I smile in triumph, and Ruby and I high-five each other.

“What is that?”

“I’m a ringer.”

It’s not a lie. I'm good at this… like really good.

“Is that so?”

“It’s true. I’m a hustler. A shark.” I smile and shrug. “Sorry, not sorry.”

He reaches into the cup, fishes out the quarter, and sets it down on the table. He dries his hand on a napkin. “Tell me more.”

“There’s not much more to tell. You’re not the only one who played quarters in college, champ.” I smile.

“She practiced in her dorm room for hours,” Ruby chimes in. “She’s super competitive.”

I give her a narrow-eyed look. That might be a little too much information, because Mason is guffawing out loud.

Ruby grabs the quarter and tosses it. It bounces, hits the cup, circles the rim—we’re both holding our breath, riveted—and falls in.

We shriek and whoop with joy, waking Puck up yet again. He starts yapping from his pen.

“Aw, you woke up the baby,” Mason says.

“It’s your turn to change him,” I say, and he laughs again.

Puck yodels in dismay. It’s the most adorable distress call ever. We leap up from our chairs and hurry to the living room. Mason picks up Puck and cradles him in his muscular arms. He looks so paternal when he does it, I can feel my ovaries singing inside me.

He’d make beautiful babies, a treacherous portion of my brain whispers to me. It’s the part of my brain that’s wired directly to my clitoris.

“No,” I say sternly.

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