Page 122 of Baby, Be Mine

That looked like Mason’s truck.

No.

It couldn’t be. I blinked to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.

He parked and stepped down from the truck. My heart kicked—hard. He looked different and achingly familiar at the same time. His wheat-colored hair was longer and fluttered around his face. The sun had bleached out some of the ginger undertones and he looked like he’d stepped right off the boat, all windblown and sexy.

Just like that last night.

He wore jeans and a T-shirt with the new MJ2 logo on it. Even a hundred and twenty miles away from his restaurant, he still couldn’t leave it all behind.

He shielded his eyes and tipped back his head to look at the house. It was pretty impressive. A bit pretentious, but impressive if you’d never seen it before. He slowly walked around the path, pausing at the flagstone steps. My lips twitched as I noticed him shake out his hands.

What was he doing here?

Just a visit, surely.

No, idiot.

I didn’t want to believe he’d come here for me. I checked on bean, then quickly, I ran to the front door to fling it open.

Mason was on the porch, his hair wild around a tired face.

A tired face I missed like crazy.

“Hi.”

Mason swallowed hard. “Hi.”

I leaned against the doorjamb, trying to play it cool. “You’re a long way from home.”

“You left.”

I straightened. “I know. I had to, Mason. I sent you an email.”

“I know. I got your email.” His expression went from nervous to so very intense as he stepped closer. “You couldn’t come to tell me yourself?”

I shook my hair behind my shoulders and lifted my chin. I still had a little pride left even though I’d run home with my tail between my legs. “I’m not sure I’d have been able to.”

The truth of it tripped my heart rate up a few dozen beats. I hadn’t really owned up to that part before. Instead, I’d kept myself busy with Adriana and my folks. Anything to fill the spaces that allowed me to think too hard about him.

“Emma—”

“I had to go.”

“I know it.” He closed the gap until his sneakers grazed the tips of my green painted toes. “I understood. I still do. Doesn’t make me miss you any less.”

“You do?”

“Every damn day, Emma.”

“But you didn’t reply. I thought...”

“Your email was pretty damn final.” His thumb tucked into the loop of my cutoff jeans as his fingertips dug into my hip. “Every night, I replayed our kiss behind the tree. On the boat. I knew I was supposed to let you go. For Adriana, for your responsibilities. Hell, for my own.”

He jerked me forward until my thighs pressed to his and my chest grazed his sun warmed T-shirt. My eyes slid shut at the contact.

He tipped his forehead to mine. “Did you? Did you think about me all these months away or did you forget me?”

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