Page 38 of All Your Reasons Why

I stare him straight in the eye. “No, idiot. The binds that held him back from truly loving went away and he was free to feel.”

I wait for him to drop my gaze. Staring into his eyes is like falling into the ocean. I feel as though I could fall and fall and never stop.

Ruby clears her throat loudly. “Oh, look at the time. I’m going home. I’ll just leave you two crazy kids alone.”

“I swear to God, Ruby.” I pick up a napkin and throw it at her. It misses and knocks over the cup of water.

I let out a groan. “I’ll clean it up.”

“I’ll help you,” Mason says, and leads me into the kitchen. A basket full of neatly stacked towels sits next to the sink.

I immediately reach for the top towel, in a hurry to get out of here before my internal filter fails again and I say something out loud about Mason's arms and their effect on my ovaries. But my hand lands instead on his callused one, and what was meant to be a towel-grabbing motion turns into a finger-caressing one.

A jolt of arousal shoots through my body and I stumble back, pulling my hand away.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. But there is something in his gaze, something dark and hungry. Is Mason having the same kind of inappropriate thoughts that I am?

“Don’t be,” I choke out. “It was my fault.”

Smooth, Rowan.

Mason and I each grab a towel, head back into the dining room, and mop up the mess, avoiding each other’s eyes.

Minutes later, after we clean the table and Ruby and I say our goodbyes to Puck and Mason, the two of us are in a cab the doorman summoned. “So, you and the hockey hottie ...” She lets her sentence trail off as we glide down the darkened street.

I don’t say a word.

“He’s smexy, and he’s totally into you, and you’re single. Don’t look at me like that. He can’t keep his eyes off you.”

“I am in a committed relationship with my job until I get this promotion. I do not have the time, nor the desire, to be a puck bunny right now.”

“Whatever.” Ruby sighs and settles back into her seat.

I really need to stay away from Mason Raker. No more socializing, no more fun. Even if I were going to date, it wouldn’t be him. I value my heart too much to hand it over to someone with a history like his.

13

MASON

Andy Roy,our backup goalie, has a brownstone in the Village. He’s single, so our teammates regularly go over to his house to watch UFC matches and act like guys, burping and farting and telling jokes that prove that men never really mature past the age of twelve.

I’ve left a puppy sitter watching Puck, along with a long list of instructions and a stern order to call me immediately if there are any emergencies.

Is this what being a parent is like? I am so not ready.

As I knock on the door, noise blasts out at me. The door swings open and Andy stands there, with a huge grin on his face and a beer in his hand.

He tries to shove it at me as I walk in, but Beckett snatches it up, swatting him on the head.

“What the hell, man?” Andy bleats at Beckett. “Save it for the rink.”

We’re following him as we talk, heading towards the living room. There’s a giant-screen TV, a sofa and black leather recliner chairs arranged in a semicircle, some framed posters of nineties supermodels in swimsuits up on the walls, a table full of snacks, a cooler of beer, and not much else. It’s the ultimate bachelor pad. Rowan would cringe at the beer cans that have been carelessly dropped on the floor.

Why am I thinking about her on boys’ night?

“Did that hurt your tender little head?” Beckett smirks at Andy. He hands the beer to Paxton, who just finished one. Paxton crushes the empty can on his forehead, and everyone cheers. Then he starts chugging the beer Beckett handed him.

“Kind of. I’m a sensitive man,” Andy says, and then belches long and loud.

---