Betting on You (12 page)

They tucked into their breakfast with their usual abandon, then took a long walk around downtown to help their food digest, window-shopping and discussing how they wanted to spend the day. They decided to take the boat out again and head over to the state park with the island in the middle of the lake. It had hiking trails and picnic tables and they could spend the entire afternoon outside enjoying the perfect weather. They stopped inside the bookstore to pick out something for Lark to read on the boat ride, and the sub shop to grab sandwiches, before getting back in Mason’s car and heading over to his friend, Nash’s, house to fetch the boat.

On the way to Nash’s, Mason found a plan beginning to take shape.

“Do you think I could invite Nash over for flank steak tonight?” Mason asked. “I got the feeling he was kind of lonely the other day when I dropped off the boat. His girlfriend moved out not too long ago.”

“Nash…” Lark chewed on her lip for a minute. “Why is that name familiar? He wasn’t one of your old basketball friends.”

“No, Nash and I worked construction together. I might have mentioned him.”

“Maybe,” Lark said in a noncommittal tone.

“He left Summerville to go to police academy in Atlanta and worked in a precinct there for awhile, but he’s been back here for a few years,” Mason said, turning onto Nash’s street before adding casually. “I think he’s around Aria’s age. Maybe a year of two older?”

Lark hummed beneath her breath. “Ahhh. I see.”

“See what?” Mason asked.

“Don’t play innocent,” Lark said, with a soft laugh. “I think it’s a great idea. Give her something to distract her from trying to prove that our second chance is made of fail.”

“She thinks our second chance is made of fail?” Mason asked, disappointed though he knew Aria wasn’t a fan. “Complete fail?”

Lark rested a hand on his shoulder. “Right now, she thinks all relationships are made of fail. She hasn’t looked sideways at a man in five months, and that’s got to be some kind of record for Aria. When we were younger, she was always the social butterfly out of the three of us. She had a different boyfriend every semester.” Lark laughed again. “It got to the point that there were so many I couldn’t keep their names straight. I just started calling every guy who called ‘dude.”

“Dude?”

“Yeah, like, ‘Aria, Dude is one the phone!’” Lark shook her head. “Only way I could keep from calling them by the wrong name.”

Mason smiled. “She and Nash should get along just fine, then. He used to be good at casual relationships back before this last girl. Maybe he and Aria can remind each other how to have fun again.”

“Good. We’ll invite him,” Lark said. “But we won’t tell Aria. I think it’s better if it’s a surprise.”

“That way she can’t yell at us until after it’s over,” Mason said.

“Absolutely,” Lark said with a wicked grin.

“Maybe I like this devilish side of you, after all.” Mason reached over to squeeze her leg right above the knee, making her giggle.

Truth was, he liked all sides of her. He just liked Lark,
loved
her like he’d never loved anything. He couldn’t imagine a better way to spend a day—or a life—than with her by his side.

Chapter Ten

The day grew hot, but not too hot, and Mason and Lark spent every minute of it outside, hiking and sunbathing and driving the boat around the lake until it was almost time for the cookout.

It was nearly five o’clock when Mason dropped Lark at her parents’ house to take a shower, and ran back to his hotel to do the same. Lark was sad to see him go, but from the moment he left her by the door to the moment he rang the doorbell again, less than forty minutes had passed, proving Mason was as eager to get back to her as she was to have him by her side.

Lark raced down the stairs in her bare feet, shouting, “It’s for me! I’ll get it,” and threw open the door, fighting the urge to leap into Mason’s arms and kiss him until they were both breathless.

He looked…gorgeous.

His damp hair hung in blue eyes that practically begged her to drag him into her bedroom, lock the door, and show him just how happy she was that they were back together. His fitted jeans clung to his strong legs and his black button down shirt emphasized the slight scruff that was beginning to show on his face. He looked good enough to eat, good enough to devour inch by delicious inch. She didn’t want to share him with anyone else. She just wanted her and Mason, alone, both preferably wearing as few clothes as possible.

But that’s exactly why she’d planned this cookout. If she didn’t surround herself with people, she wasn’t going to make it another day without giving in to the urge to pounce Mason like a she-cat after a man-sized hunk of catnip, and that just didn’t seem like the smartest idea only four dates into their second chance.

“Long time, no see,” Mason said, grinning as widely as she was, his eyes sparkling with the giddy happiness they had both been infected with since they laid eyes on each other this morning.

“I see you didn’t take the time to shave.” Lark leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms, not missing the way Mason’s eyes flicked down to the significant amount of cleavage displayed by her black baby doll dress and back up again.

“I was in a hurry,” Mason said, stepping closer.

“In a hurry for what?” Lark asked innocently. “Dinner isn’t being served until six thirty.”

“In a hurry to get back to this woman I like a whole lot.” Mason wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her out the door and into his arms. “She’s about your height and wearing this little black dress that I think might drive me crazy by the end of the night. Or ten minutes from now, I can’t be sure.”

“Is that right?” Lark put her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to breathe her next words inches from his lips. “And why’s that?”

“Because she looks amazing, and I want to touch her so bad it’s killing me.”

“You’re touching me right now,” Lark said, leaning closer, pressing her breasts tight to his chest, making Mason’s breath rush out and a pained expression flicker across his face.

Lark shivered. She understood that pain. She felt it all over, in every place that ached for him to touch her, taste her, slip his fingers over the edge of her black silk panties and discover how very, very deeply he affected her with just a mostly-friendly hug on her parents’ front porch.

“You’re killing me,” Mason whispered, pulling her even closer, until Lark’s hips were fitted against his own and there was no longer any doubt in Lark’s mind that Mason was every bit as affected by her as she was by him. Her breath hitched as she titled her hips forward, pressing against him.

“Killing, huh?” she asked, voice trembling.

“Killing,” Mason repeated. “But what a way to go.”

“Speaking of go,” Lark said, fisting her hands in his shirt, the last of her reason vanishing in a rush of desire. “Let’s go.”

“We can’t go… Can we?” Mason asked, one hand straying below her waist to cup her bottom through her thin dress, setting her blood to racing even faster.

“Sure we can,” Lark said. “We can go to my place.”

“What about the cookout?” But Mason was already backing away from the house, half carrying Lark off the porch and down the walk toward where his car was parked on the street.

“Forget the cookout,” Lark said, not caring that she wasn’t wearing shoes or that she was ditching her sisters, not caring about anything but being as close to Mason as she could possibly get. “I can’t wait another minute. I want to—”

“Lark! Mason!” called a light voice from inside.

A moment later Melody appeared at the front door, her eyebrows shooting up when she saw Lark and Mason glued together and halfway to the street. “Um, Lark, I think I messed something up.”

“Messed what up?” Lark asked, fighting to breathe normally as Mason set her back on her feet. She turned, blocking Mason’s body with her own, knowing he wouldn’t want Melody to see him in his current state.

“Was I supposed to bring the basting sauce to a boil, and then simmer it for a few minutes, or just bring it to a boil and then turn it off?” Melody asked. “The notes on your old recipe card are kind of hard to decipher.”

“Let it simmer,” Lark said.

“How long?” Melody asked. “Because there isn’t a lot of excess liquid and I don’t want to—”

“Just put it on to simmer and I’ll be in in a second,” Lark said, widening her eyes at her sister in silent plea for a moment of privacy.

“Oh. Okay. I’ll go get the grill started then.” Melody backed away with a little wave. “Hi, Mason!”

“Hi,” Mason called, laughter lurking beneath his voice.

Lark turned to glance at him over her shoulder, biting her lip. “I think our escape has been thwarted.”

“Probably for the best,” Mason said, taking her hand and pulling her back toward the house. “Nash should be here soon, and I’m not sure your sisters would have forgiven me for kidnapping you before a cookout, you being Mistress of the Grill and all.

“I am Mistress of the Grill,” Lark said. “Hope you won’t mind me smelling all meaty by the end of the night.”

“You could smell like rotten eggs and garbage truck juice and I’d still want to lick you all over.”

“That’s disgusting,” Lark said with a giggle.

“I thought you liked licking.” Mason leaned down to whisper the words into her hair as they stepped into the house. “As long as the licks were in all the right places.”

Lark made a sound very close to a purr and turned to face him. “You do tend to know the right places,” she murmured before pressing her lips lightly to his.

It was just the whisper of a kiss—only a few seconds long and the barest press of hot skin against hotter—but it was enough to make her feel like fireworks were going off inside her head, soaring and bursting in a giddy explosion of color that made her want to squeal and giggle and sigh, all at the same time.

Mason. Just…Mason. He did it for her, in so many wonderful ways.

“Um, knock, knock,” came a deep, male voice from the doorway. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

Mason pulled away and turned to open the door a little wider with a smile. “Nash, glad you could make it.”

“Hi, I’m Lark.” Lark turned and welcomed Mason’s friend with an outstretched hand. Nash hadn’t been home with they fetched the boat—Mason had called him at the police station to invite him—so they had yet to be properly introduced. “So glad you could come.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” Nash said, giving her hand a firm grip as he smiled. It was a wide, friendly smile that showcased some very straight, very white teeth.

Lark gave Mason’s friend a quick once over as she took the bottle of wine he’d brought and led the boys into the kitchen to open it, surprised to find Nash quite so…manly.

He was about Mason’s height, but thicker all over, with muscles that strained the sleeves of his tight, black t-shirt and jeans that had obviously been purchased at some kind of specialty store for men with giant quadriceps and tiny waists. Mason was an athletic, muscular guy, but Nash was verging on man meat. He had honed the perfection of his body to the point where it was
almost
intimidating and stopped just short. Between his killer physique, tanned skin, white teeth, bright green eyes, boyishly short brown hair, and sweet, lazy drawl, Nash was any red-blooded Southern girl’s dream come true.

If Nash didn’t remind Aria why she loved living in the South, no man would.

Yes, yes indeed
, Lark thought as she poured herself a glass of the Chardonnay Nash had brought and got both of the boys set up with a beer.
Aria is going to love this one.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Aria appeared in the doorway with Felicity balanced on her hip. She was dressed in a burnt orange sleeveless sundress that brought out the auburn in her hair and highlighted her slim figure. She was actually wearing makeup, for once, and chunky turquoise jewelry that emphasized her green eyes. And, best of all, she was smiling her big, bright, Aria smile down at Felicity. It was a rare smile these days, but it reminded Lark of why, when she was growing up, she had always wanted to look like her big sister.

When Aria smiled she was more than just pretty, she was break-your-heart stunning. There wasn’t a man alive who could resist her.

Lark peeked over at Nash to see if his jaw had dropped, to find an unexpected frown pulling at his handsome face.

“Hey y’all, I turned on the bug lights, but I can’t reach the torches since Daddy put them up so—” Aria broke off as she looked up, her eyes skimming over Lark and Mason to settle on the man beside them, her eyes widening with shock and confusion before her brows pulled together in a frown that matched Nash’s to a T.

Chapter Eleven

“What’s
he
doing here?” Aria asked in a voice only slightly more friendly than the one she’d greeted Mason with on their first date.

“Nice to see you again, too, Aria,” Nash said in his silky drawl, while Lark and Mason exchanged panicked glances behind his back.

Aria
knew
Nash?
How?