Wrapped in You (11 page)

Trudy had the taxi drop her off in front of Grounds for Thought. Gathering all her packages, she pushed open the door to the cafe with her shoulder.

Eve blinked at all the packages. “Did you leave anything in the stores for the rest of us who haven’t done our shopping yet?”

“Only if you don’t want men’s pants in size 30.” She sat at the counter and set all the packages down next to her before sitting on a stool.

“Whew.” Eve wiped her brow. “I think I’m safe.”

Grinning, Trudy unwound the candy cane scarf. “Do you think it’d be possible to get a Nutella latte and perhaps a scone?”

“I think I know someone who can hook you up.” Eve packed coffee into the espresso basket. “I’m going to be a nosy coffee shop owner for a second, okay?”

“Thanks for the warning.”

“I didn’t want to startle you.” She held a finger up and then turned the steam on for the milk. When she turned the machine off, she picked up the conversation again. “So men’s clothing, huh? For your dad at home?”

“You know you’re fairly transparent.” Trudy shook her head. “And you also know exactly who it’s for.”

Eve set the latte in front of her. “So it’s going okay?”

She thought about the weekend. Saturday they
had
ordered Indian food, and then she’d ended up staying over until Sunday afternoon. She’d spent the lazy day in a pair of Mason’s orange boxers and a pink T-shirt.

Though she’d spent almost as much time out of his clothes as she had in them. They couldn’t get enough of each other. The shocking part: she wanted more. Usually she was dying for some space after spending a couple hours with a man, but with Mason she could have stayed forever.

It had to be because he had unlimited cookies and wine.

“He’s nice,” she said finally.

“You like him,” Eve said with a gentle smile as she slid the plated scone toward her.

“Well . . . Yes.” Was that a trick question?

“It’s going to be hard to leave when it comes time.”

Trudy frowned. She hadn’t been thinking about that, but suddenly it seemed difficult to imagine not hanging out with him.

“But I guess that’s what holiday flings are,” Eve continued. “Short and sweet and a great memory.”

Maybe, but she wasn’t ready for it to be over. “I have a job to get back to,” she reminded herself.

“Do you remember Gwen, with the gourds? I should make sure you meet her guy Rick. You’ll enjoy talking to him. He has good stories.” Eve pursed her lips in thought. “I’ll set up a little gathering at my place. You can bring your guy.”

“I leave by Christmas,” she warned.

“And you have your list to get done before then.” Eve smiled. “How is that going, by the way?”

She wrapped her hands around the mug and frowned. “We only have a few more items to check off.”

“That’s great,” Eve said brightly. Then she dimmed. “But you don’t look like it’s great.”

Because she didn’t want it to be over, and that made no sense because she never wanted to do any of it to begin with. She sipped her latte and her frown deepened. Where was she going to get Nutella lattes in London? “This latte is delicious,” she said accusingly.

Eve nodded. “I know. My Nutella latte is like crack.”

Trudy’s mobile vibrated with a text. She pulled it out, knowing it’d be Mason.

I’m home. Come over at will.

Excitement fluttered in her stomach, and that made her angry. She finished her latte and scone at a leisurely pace, defiantly chatting with Eve the whole time. When she was out of stall tactics, she pulled out her wallet from her pocket. “I need to get going. How much do I owe you?”

Eve waved her hand. “It’s on me today. Happy holidays.”

“Oh.” She slowly picked up her packages and tried to say,
Happy holidays
, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words. “Thank you,” she said instead.

“Are you coming in tomorrow? We can set a firm date for a get together at my place.”

“I can’t imagine being here and not coming in,” she said honestly.

“Check with your man friend.” Eve winked at her. “Have fun tonight.”

She mumbled something she hoped was appropriately enthusiastic and headed to Mason’s.

As she went up the porch steps, the door to the downstairs apartment opened and Hazel stepped out, wearing yoga clothes with a puffy jacket and scarf. She stalled in her doorway, eyes wide, when she saw Trudy.

Trudy winced on the inside. “I’m sorry, Hazel.”

Hazel’s expression transitioned through puzzled to curious. “I don’t understand,” she said as she stepped outside and locked her door.

“About Mason.” Trudy shifted her weight, wishing she were anywhere but there. Only Hazel was nice, and she felt like she had to say something. “I could tell you like him.”

“Oh.” The girl’s face flushed a deep red. Then panic widened her eyes. “Mason doesn’t know, does he?”

“He’s a man.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s oblivious.”

“Oh good.” Hazel relaxed, her shoulders wilting in relief. “You had me worried for a second.”

“I just wanted you to know I’m leaving in a few days, and then Mason will be free.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth. Probably the aftertaste of the coffee. “You should ask him out.”

Hazel gaped at her and then laughed. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can.” Trudy frowned at her. “You’re a strong, independent woman. You don’t have to wait for an idiot man to get his act together.”

That made Hazel laugh harder. “I know, but Mason doesn’t like me like that.”

“He could.”

“No, he couldn’t. And now he’s off the market.” Sobering, she looked Trudy in the eye. “I’ve known him since he moved in last year. I’ve seen him with the women he goes out with, and he’s never looked at any one of them the way he looks at you.”

Trudy took a step back, her heart hammering. She wanted to block out Hazel’s words as much as she wanted her to repeat them. “You must be mistaken.”

Hazel shook her head. “He might like me, but he
likes
you. As more than just a friend.”

“I—”

“Mason’s so great,” Hazel said with feeling. She touched Trudy’s arm. “Men like him don’t come around every day. I hope you can see that he’s rare.”

You’re rare
, Trudy heard him say in her head.

“But I think you see that.” Hazel smiled at her as she descended the porch. “Have fun tonight. It looks like someone’s in for a great Christmas.”

Trudy looked down at the bags in her hands. They weren’t anything special despite the pretty wrapping: the book she’d bought him, plus some new clothing. If he stopped looking like a clown, she wagered his employees would show him more respect.

On impulse, she’d had the picture the man had taken of them singing on his porch printed and framed, too. She hadn’t been able to resist.

Watching Hazel leave, she remembered the photo and how intimate she and Mason had looked in it. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to give him a visual prompt that might mislead him. She was leaving—she didn’t want him to be attached. Not overly attached, in any case.

Giving it to him was a bad idea.

Trudy rummaged through the bags, took the frame out, and hid it in her purse before ringing his doorbell.

Mason looked tired when he arrived to open the door. Still, he smiled and kissed her hello. “About time you arrived, Gertrude Heathe-Hawkley.”

“I should never have told you my name.” She walked in, banging him with the packages.

“Whatchya got in there?” He tried to peek in a bag. “More lingerie?”

“You wish.” She started up the stairs. “Come tell me about your day, and then I’ll share mine.”

“Yes, dear,” he said with humor, following her up.

She settled in the living room, setting the packages aside and getting out of her layers while he got a “special beverage” for her. He returned with two steaming mugs.

“Mulled wine,” he said proudly, putting the mugs on the coffee table before sitting next to her and putting his head on her shoulder. “Today was a long day.”

She massaged his neck. “Tell me.”

“We’re launching a feature soon, and today it all went to hell. Some work was lost, the rest of it crashed . . .” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. Kissing her collarbone, he lifted his head. “Normally I’d have made everyone work late to fix the situation, but I sent them home.”

She touched her hand to his forehead. “Are you feeling all right?”

He took it, placed a kiss in the middle of her palm, and closed her fingers over it. “It’s your fault. I didn’t want to cancel, and after having the discussion about what workaholics we are, I decided to act differently than usual.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like I made the right decision.” He smiled. “My boss emailed that he was proud of the way I handled it. My employees were confused though.”

“It’s good to keep them on their toes.”

He kissed her temple. “You have bags.”

She smiled. “I went shopping.”

“What did you buy?” he asked, one part curious, one part eager.

“You’ll see.”

He lit up. “For me? I love presents.”

“I know.” He was always giving her things, including that dress, which she still hadn’t opened. It sat on the corner of the desk in the hotel room, taunting her.

She shook her head. She wasn’t going to think about that tonight. “I hope you like what I got for you,” she said as she began to extract each wrapped package from the bags.

He rubbed his hands together and then accepted the first gift from her. He listened to it, shook it, and then ripped the paper off it like he was a five year old that had been waiting for Christmas all year. He pulled out a pair of dark pants and looked at her in question.

“You wanted to fit in better at work.” She handed him another box. “I bought you a few clothes. I marked the labels so you know which ones to wear together. I thought maybe we could go through your closet and get rid of a couple things and mark the rest of your clothes.”

He gaped at her.

Was he upset? Had she offended him? She shifted in her seat. “Your color combinations are sometimes jarring. I just thought this might help. We don’t have to. I can return the clothes if you don’t like them. I got you a book, too.”

He took the last present she offered him, set it on the table without opening it, and launched himself at her.

“
Eep,
“ she squeaked as she toppled back onto the couch.

His mouth descended on hers. He tasted of Christmas and passion, an irresistible combination that she’d never appreciated before.

He lifted his head and looked down at her with a penetrating gaze. “That is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” he said softly.

She looked away. “It’s just a few things.”

He took her chin and made her face him. “It’s the sentiment behind it. You care about me.”

She remembered Eve saying the same thing. She wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t.

“You should pick one of the outfits for me to wear to the holiday party,” he continued.

She shook her head vehemently, dislodging his hand. “Wear whatever you want.”

His brow furrowed. “I picked your dress. It’s only fair that you pick my clothes.”

That dress had to be awful, doubly so because of his colorblindness. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay.” His hands trailed under her shirt, up her rib cage to the lacy band of the lavender bra Olivia had sold her. Mason froze, his eyes widening. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Maybe.”

“Sweet baby Jesus,” he whispered. Then he sat up and pulled her shirt over her head.

Trudy settled back on the couch, arms over her head. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Of course not. It’s coming right off.” He slipped his fingers under the straps and pulled them down her shoulders. “How sweet of you to wrap yourself up for me, too.”

“I’m not sweet, and I’m no gift.”

“I’d beg to differ.” He kissed her shoulder and then reached into his back pocket to pull out a condom.

She unbuckled his pants and slid her hands in. He gasped as her hands touched him. She reveled in the way his head fell back and his fingers gripped her arms. She loved the way he hardened, long and eager, in her hand.

“Take your pants off,” he said, sitting up to do the same. “Leave the bra on.”

“On?” She arched her brow as she began to unbutton her pants.

“Yes, on.” He ate her up with his gaze. “I like it. A lot.”

She felt a bit of uneasiness as she stripped the rest of her clothes off. The lingerie wasn’t her, and it was what he was excited about. As Mason unrolled the condom over himself, Trudy sat on his lap, pushing him back against the couch. “Don’t get used to this. It may never happen again.”

He paused. “The sex?”

“No, the knickers.”

“Oh.” Looking relieved, he kissed her chest, right on top of her lavender covered nipple, and then looked up at her. “The lace is nice, but you’re what turns me on.”

She paused, straddled over him, his hardness in her hand. She saw the truth in his eyes, and elation and sadness constricted her heart. “Don’t get carried away, Mason,” she said softly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”