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“That’s when Chelsea was fifteen and we were in college! I’m totally fine with itnow. Why did you think I was always chasing off her dates? I was clearing a path for you, dude.”
Understanding passes over Mason’s face. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Well. I’m glad to know you approve. But I could have used this information years ago.”
I lean closer to the phone. “John, I love you, but you are theworst. The absolute worst.”
“But your sister and Mason still love you very much,” Mom says. “Maybe it’s time to stop trying to be all up in everyone’s business, John? Next thing you know, you’ll be trying to setmeup.”
Mom laughs, but her comment—the first I’veeverheard from her about dating—shocks me. It also has my wheels turning.
And if I know my brother, his are turning too.
Because it didn’t fully sound like a joke. More like the kind of thing you joke about when you’re really serious. My mom—dating?!?
“I’m kidding!” Mom says, looking suddenly horrified.
But it’s too late. The seed has been planted. And I’m definitely going to circle back to this. Because if my mom is finally ready to joke about dating, maybe she’s ready toactuallydate. And if anyone deserves some happiness and to be swept off her feet, it’s my her.
“Happy New Year,” Mason says. “Goodbye, John.”
Mason leans forward and ends the call. “Well, that was enlightening,” he says, and then the three of us are laughing.
“However this happened, I’m so glad. And I think it was just the right time,” Mom says, getting to her feet. “Now, I’m heading for the shower. Make yourselves at home. But nottoocomfortable, if you know what I mean.”
I groan, and with a wink, Mom picks up her phone and leaves the room.
I turn in Mason’s lap, linking my fingers behind his neck. “Well? What ever shall we do now that we’re alone?”
His eyes darken as his gaze falls to my mouth. “I have some ideas.”
“Do those ideas involve making out on this couch?”
“They might.” As if to prove his point, Mason leans forward, ghosting a kiss over my lips. “They definitely do.”
I lean forward, kissing one corner of his lips and then the other. “No cloves this time, so no hospital visits.” I kiss his chin. “At least no hospital visits forthatreason.”
Mason captures my mouth with his, kissing me softly, then releasing me. “How about no hospital visits foranyreason?”
“Deal.”
Our mouths meet as though they’ve been doing so for years. And if my lips are slightly sore from me over-exfoliating the night before, I can’t bring myself to care.
Mason’s kisses are a warm blanket and also the shock of cool winter air.
I am melting. I am shivering. I am burning; I am home.
The way he takes control—so steady, so capable, so strong—has me wanting to wave a white flag of happy surrender.
When Mason pulls back, I can’t help surging forward once more, nipping lightly at his bottom lip. The whining noise I make is completely ridiculous and embarrassing—as if I cared about such things as my pride.
To be clear, I do not.
He chuckles, and I pout.
“Is something about kissing me funny, big guy?”
“No. Definitely not. I was just thinking about how things worked out in the end despite John. Not because of him.”
Before I can tell him the last thing I want to discuss while kissing is mybrother,Mason adds, “And I’m also thinking about revenge.”
