“I thought you didn’t care about being naked.”
“I don’t, really, but it’s practical. I keep extra clothes in my truck, but I have to grab the keys anyway. And I need food.”
“Yeah. Keys. From your hiding spot.”
“Exactly.” I bop her nose.
She purses her lips with annoyance.
“I’ll stop hiding keys when I’m no longer worried about my mate taking off.”
“Whatever.”
20
Amelia
Mason looks edible in his faded jeans and his sky-blue button-down shirt that’s rolled halfway between his forearms and his elbows. His dirty-blond hair is a little messy with sexy bedhead and he’s in need of a shave. And that stubble looks incredible on him.
Whatshisface never sports stubble. He shaves every single morning. I once hinted that stubble turns me on, and he laughed it off promptly before shaving. The guy never took a hint. Even a blatant one.
My phone is still working and has been on mute because he’s called me about forty-seven times since last night. I’ve left my mailbox full so he can’t leave more messages, but I keep looking at the screen in case Mom or Ivy call or send a text. I tried calling both of them before Mason turned up in the woods. Ivy’s phone actually rings until it goes to voicemail each time, so cell service is working again, though she’s not picking up.
It feels like something is wrong. Like… fundamentally wrong and I don’t know if I’m just extra-amped because of the past forty-eight hours or not, but I know I won’t be able to shake this feeling until I’m able to get ahold of her.
After getting back to Mason’s, I was carried directly up to the top floor bathroom. I tried to argue, but he just took me there without answering me. And then when I refused to get in the shower, he sat me on the vanity, and I watched him shower.
He then got dressed and I changed my soiled bottoms before following him down to the kitchen where he proceeded to scarf down random food from the fridge, feeding me pieces of cheese, deli turkey, and bites of fruit.
I tried to reject food and got bitchy about him not being fast enough and that made him slow down. And that pissed me off. So I got bitchier. And then he took even more time and decided we weren’t leaving until I ate whatever magical amount of food he deemed enough.
He then fished through the fridge and pulled out an apple pie that his mom brought yesterday and fed me pieces of it with his fingers, coaxing me like I’m a toddler. “Three more bites and we’ll go see your sister,” he offered.
I rolled my eyes, ate some, then some more. After the third bite, I bit his fingertip.
He leaned in, eyes glittering with mischief. “You like biting games?”
“Don’t piss me off, Doggo,” I warned, then yanked a three-quarters-eaten banana from his hand, stuffed it into my mouth and then talked around a mouth full of banana, “Time to go.”
He flashed me a grin and kissed my neck before he disappeared down the stairs.
I tried to ignore the neck shivers as I chewed what was in my mouth and by the time I swallowed, he came back up from the basement with sparkle in his dark eyes that felt like playful mocking. I stuck my tongue out at him. There may still have been banana on it and like I suspected he wouldn’t, he didn’t seem to care.
I saw that downstairs area when I wandered the house while he was still asleep this morning and was as impressed with it as I am with the rest of the place. Much of it is a giant man cave with a great room that has two focal points. One: a pool table and the other: a semi-circular bar with a big television mounted behind it. But it’s well-decorated, lots of color, and like the rest of the place with all the windows, is drenched with light.
That level opens up via patio doors to a dream yard with a small in-ground pool, barbeque, and patio area, plus a firepot surrounded by wooden chairs. Beyond that… shoreline with a long dock that has two boats. One is on the ground attached to a boat trailer. And there’s one of those contraptions that holds a big one, a mini yacht, up in the air. It’s early spring so I guess he hasn’t put it on the water yet. And despite the pool, the lake looks swimmable with a sandy beach sprawling in both directions.
As much as I didn’t want to go on a two-week cruise on the ocean, I really wouldn’t mind a ride on that mini yacht on this lake.
And clearly, my keys are down there somewhere too, but he’s not giving them up. Annoyingly.
Right now, what I’m most worried about is priority one – Ivy. Talking to her. Brainstorming on getting this thing Aunt Nelle did undone. And of course making sure she’s okay. Ivy didn’t tell me what was going on when she showed up on the weekend; she was probably protecting me what with the fact that this stuff is a big secret that she could get in trouble for revealing. But now that I know, now that it’s our secret instead of just hers, she can talk to me and together, we’ll find a way to move forward.