Page 8 of Deep Love

Of course I couldn’t tell her the truth. I’d already lied to her about why I had no identification on me.

“I was mugged,” I’d told her during my interview. “Thief took my purse. I’m in the process of getting a new I.D.” Which I guess I actually had to do, but I hadn’t figured out how yet because Delphi Adamo of Moon Valley, Vermont had a gravestone in Withers Memorial Cemetery.

“Mason joined the military,” I said. “And I was here. The long distance thing didn’t work out.” Not a total lie. Seraphia was a long distance from Vermont.

“But now you’re back, and he’s not in the military anymore.” Jessica’s face was full of eagerness.

“Why isn’t he in the military anymore?” Hadn’t Mason been planning to make a career of service as his father had? We’d had many conversations about living on bases and me getting teaching jobs on bases too.

Jessica squinted toward the kitchen as if making sure Mason wasn’t around. “From what I can piece together because our dear Mason can be a bit of a vault, he was injured in active duty.”

My heart instantly squeezed at hearing Mason had been hurt. Clearly, he’d survived, but if the injury had been what had stolen his dream of being career military, I ached for him.

“He returned here to Moon Valley, stumbled around for a while doing odd jobs in town, then one day he was having lunch here at the diner,” Jessica said, a faint smile tilting up her lips. “My chef at that time sucked eggs and a customer told him so. He ended up marching out during his shift, leaving Moose’s Diner with no chef on a busy-as-shit Saturday.” She shook her head. “I was panicked because I don’t cook at all. I mean, I can screw up toast, Delphi. Honestly. But Mason rose from his seat, strode into the kitchen, and picked up where my previous chef had left off. He saved the freaking day and I begged him to work here.”

“And he accepted?”

“No. It took me a solid month of begging.” She laughed. “I’m pretty sure he only agreed to work here to shut me up.” She slapped her palms onto the bar top. “I don’t care what made him agree though. Aside from being a real peach of a human being, his cooking skills have brought this diner up several notches.”

“I do remember Mason being a good cook,” I said. “He was always toying around in the kitchen. I enjoyed being his taste tester.”

Jessica tagged my forearm. “Maybe you can get that job back.”

I glanced over my shoulder toward the kitchen. “Maybe.”

The man hadn’t completely lost his shit over seeing me risen from the grave, and I’d caught him watching me a few times throughout our shift together. Actually, I’d felt him watching me, and I’d liked it. Perhaps he would believe the real story of how I’d come to be back here.

Possibly we could be together as we’d always planned.

The man in question came through the swinging kitchen door and gave Jessica and me a quick smile.

“That group at table four said your pork and apple salsa was orgasmic,” Jessica said to him, causing Mason’s cheeks to color.

Goddess, he’s adorable.

I’d always thought so, but Mason Harrister was also a big ol’ slice of sexy. Especially when those beautiful blue eyes of his were directed my way. Sure, they were full of questions right now, but I easily recalled how they deepened to a midnight blue when he was naked and panting my name.

My cheeks were no doubt colored now too.

Jessica slid her gaze from Mason to me and back to Mason. “Okay, kids. I’m going to catch up on some paperwork in my office. I’ll see you both tomorrow. Thanks again, Delphi, for being a competent waitress.” With that she made herself scarce, leaving Mason and me staring at each other.

“Can we . . . talk?” Mason asked.

“Of course.” I picked up the key Jessica had left with me. “I’m staying at Jessica’s rental apartment.”

“Okay.” Mason ducked into the kitchen while I set the last of the salt and pepper shakers on a tray to be ready for the tables tomorrow. When he returned, he had a small box that he held up. “I saved us two pieces of blueberry pie. It used to be—”

“My favorite.” I took a few steps closer to him, taking the box from him. “It still is.”

“Good.” He stepped aside, opened the kitchen door, and motioned for me to go ahead of him, ever the perfect gentleman.

We didn’t speak as we exited the back door of the diner and walked the short distance to Jessica’s rental apartment. I let us inside and closed the door, setting the pie box on a small table nearby.

When I turned back around, Mason pulled me into a hug and as I breathed him in, I forgot all about the bliss I’d felt in Seraphia.