Chapter Ten
Ash
Mason had certainly given me a lot to think about with our conversation. He’d created his company with three friends and hardly any money, renovating old houses and selling them for a profit. He’d become successful and extremely rich because of it, allowing him to do good for other people along the way.
I wasn't worried about the money part so much as getting the satisfaction of bringing a house back to life for new owners to love. I hoped bringing them happiness when they set foot in their newly renovated home might bring me some happiness in return.
If Mason had managed to make a successful career from flipping houses, why shouldn’t I?
Okay, I currently had no construction skills, but beginning here, working on my own home, I’d cover all the basics and grow my knowledge as I went. With Mason guiding me, I’d learn from the absolute best, and I’d gain a lot of valuable experience if nothing else. What I did with that experience was up to me.
We returned to work after lunch, but I spent most of the afternoon surreptitiously glancing at Mason, trying to figure him out. He was a far more complex man than I’d originally anticipated, but the more I got to know him, the more he opened up, the more I wanted him. But having gotten a glimpse of how deep his emotions went, I refused to take advantage of him, no matter how much I’d like to.
I’d come full circle, and concluded yet again that what he truly needed was a friend and so a friend, first and foremost, is what I had to be. My feelings, my need to get closer—I’d have to learn to deal with them on my own.
“You ready?” he asked as we faced the wall in front of us. He’d checked the structure to ensure it wasn't load bearing, something I’d never thought to have done, but thankfully, we were good to go.
“Yep,” I replied. “Let’s do this.” I began jabbing the sledgehammer a few times at the wall, the cracking sound of the plaster extremely satisfying. We hammered and pulled at the sheetrock and soon cleared a large section, displaying the shiplap wall underneath.
“Can we keep it?” I asked, smoothing my hand over the old wood, removing a layer of dust and grime and already envisaging how beautiful the end result might be.
“Sure,” he replied. “It’s always good to reuse whatever you can.” Taking off a glove, he reverently ran his hand along the wood, The way he did so had me imagining his fingers running over my skin, caressing my body. He glanced at me, and tingles ran across my shoulders. “It would probably make a great hutch or table,” he mused, making me beam.
“One of my friends, Cam, is a carpenter. I’d love him to build something for me.”
“I’m sure he’d appreciate you asking him,” Mason replied and returned his attention to the wall. For the next few hours, we carefully removed the wood until we could see clear through to the kitchen space.
“We might be able to make some other furniture too with the amount we have,” I said, ridiculously pleased at being able to retain a part of the original house and turn the remnants into a beautiful piece of furniture I’d get to keep forever. Aunt Mary Ellen would’ve been so proud. She always loved to reuse everyone else’s junk, turning whatever she found into unique gifts to sell at the local market.
Standing in what used to be the kitchen, I scanned the expanse of the lower floor. “You were so right.” I replied, awed. “This place is gonna be amazing.” I fully got why he loved his job. Knocking down walls, seeing the space opening up, seeing the potential, was a total rush.
Mason’s infectious grin matched my own. We were both covered in dust from head to toe, but he was without a doubt the hottest man I’d ever seen. Perspiration dotted his brow and dripped down the side of his face and neck, disappearing into the fitted white T-shirt he wore. Which, incidentally, clung to his torso like a second skin from the sweat produced by his efforts, making the damn cotton almost translucent.
Friends. Just friends . I kept reminding myself but trying to honor that was really difficult when his chest and arms bulged every time he wielded his sledgehammer.
Surveying the damage and the mess, Mason narrowed his eyes. “You know,” he remarked far too casually, “you shouldn’t be staying here while the demo is going on.”
“I’ll be fine,” I replied. “As long as I keep my bedroom door closed, I’m sure there won’t be a problem.”
“I disagree.”
I cocked my head at him “How so?”
“I’ve done what you’re trying to do, and it doesn’t work. The dust and dirt get everywhere.” He gave me a penetrating look. “Plus, it’s not good for your lungs.”
He had me there. Hmm, maybe I should stay with Sawyer or Cam?
“I think you should stay at mine, at least until the demo is complete,” he finished.
I swallowed a couple of times. “I’m not so sure staying at yours is the best option.” Waking up each morning with Mason in bed a few feet away across the hall, possibly wearing nothing at all. Seeing him all sleep ruffled and hearing his morning voice each day. I’d go batshit crazy wanting the guy. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I stated again. “There’s not really too much dust.”
He raised an eyebrow as his gaze traveled leisurely over my body, making my gut clench with need. His eyes hovered briefly on my crotch. What? Before continuing his journey to my feet and up again. I looked down and surveyed my black tank and shorts covered in white dust and bits of paint and plaster and who knew what else. Yeah, okay, he had a point. A layer of crap already covered my clothes, so how much more lingered in the air for me to potentially inhale?
“I’d really feel a whole lot happier with you away from all the dust and any other hazards.”
I was a sucker when people asked nicely. But could I feasibly stay next door with him?
“Please, Ash.” Wow, the guy had already figured out how to pull on my heartstrings.
Holding up my hand, I stopped him from saying any more. “Okay, okay. If it makes you happy, I’ll stay at yours.”
His wide smile lit up his face, making his eyes twinkle. You’d think he’d won the lottery; he looked so pleased.
“It will make me happy,” he confirmed. The slight tremor in his voice unfurled an unfamiliar sensation deep within me, creating a balm for my soul. It shouldn’t have mattered if this made him happy, but it did, and knowing I was the one causing his reaction, satisfied a yearning I didn’t realize I had.
“Let’s clear up the mess and finish for the day,” he said. “You’re going to want a nice hot bath when we get back.”
“Oh, no, I don’t do baths. I much prefer showers.”
I received a pitying look. “Trust me. You won’t be feeling the effects yet, but your muscles will hurt like hell tomorrow morning, so a bath tonight will go a long way to easing the knots and reducing the ache in your muscles.”
I shrugged. “Sure, okay. If you think so.”
“I do.”
As we tidied up, another facet to Mason, I’d yet to witness, revealed itself. Since I’d agreed to stay at his, it was as if a switch had flipped inside him. Any reticence or hesitation had disappeared. In its place were not orders exactly, but a firmness, a clear direction of what needed to be done. As if I was under his protection and his responsibility to look out for. I hadn’t had anyone do that in the four years since leaving Melrose Bay.
*
The tub sat in the en suite of the master bedroom at the top of the stairs. The bedroom had a lovely, vaulted beamed ceiling and took up the whole width of the house, with the same type of bifold doors as downstairs, leading out onto a glass-railed balcony. Being a bit higher, the views of the beach and ocean were stunning.
“How come you don’t use this room while you’re here?” I asked, following behind Mason.
“It’s Gabe’s bedroom,” he stated by way of explanation. “I just didn’t feel right sleeping in his bed.”
I fully understood his logic, and in truth, I wouldn’t have wanted to sleep in Mary Ellen’s bedroom as it currently stood either. Sleeping on the couch would have been far preferable. The room had been her sanctuary. I guess Gabe felt the same way about his room, and Mason recognized that so steered clear.
Glancing around the space, I decided I’d like to do the same at my place and use the upstairs as my refuge. This was the only room on the second floor, so there’d be no reason for anyone else to ever be up here. I took a quick peek across at Mason. Well, not unless I wanted them to be.
“Let me get this filled, and you can have a relaxing soak.” He leaned over the tub and put the plug in the drain, then flicked the hot water on.
“I’m perfectly capable of running my own bath, you know.”
He turned his head and flashed me a grin. “A bath needs to be just right to ensure you get the maximum benefit.” He picked up one of the foam bath bottles and scanned the label before putting the item down and repeating the process on a few more until he found the one he wanted. He opened the cap and poured the viscous liquid into the running water, fascinating me when lots and lots of bubbles rapidly traveled the length of the bathtub, covering the entire surface.
“Someone seems to like their products,” I mused. “Is that you or Gabe?”
His embarrassed smirk gave me my answer. Mason was a bath bunny. Go figure.
“Just you wait,” he said. “Once you’ve had a long relaxing bath, you’ll be craving one every day. You’ll see.”
I scoffed at him. “You’re that sure, huh?” Instead of answering me, he waggled his eyebrows and winked, causing me to nearly melt on the spot. A playful Mason might well be my biggest weakness.
“Okay. It’s all yours.” He retrieved a thick towel from the cupboard and placed it on the wooden stool beside me. “I’ll be downstairs when you’re finished.” And with that parting remark, he left me alone, leaving the door slightly ajar on his way out.
The soak in the tub was pure bliss, though I’d never have told Mason that, as I reveled in all the rich soapy suds of the expensive bubble bath. My tired muscles gradually relaxed as the tension in my body dissipated. I’d placed the towel behind my head and leaned against the fluffy softness. Closing my eyes, I’d drifted off, allowing the hot steamy water to do its job.
I stayed in until the water cooled, then reluctantly pulled the plug and climbed out. The big fluffy towel, white of course, let me efficiently dry off. I sensed a recurring theme with the house and all its shades of black and white, and speculated whether that’s how Mason’s friend Gabe viewed his life. I felt kind of sad for him if he did.
“You gonna stay up there all night?” Mason called from the bottom of the stairs.
“No, Dad,” I shouted back. “I’ll be down shortly.” I sniggered when he grumbled an inarticulate response I couldn’t make out.
After clearing up the bathroom and rummaging through the duffel I’d brought with me, I threw on some old navy sweatpants and a faded green T-shirt, then ran my fingers through my hair and jogged down the stairs to the living area.
Mason, already seated at the breakfast bar, waited patiently for me. “I hope you like Thai,” he said, as I scoured the array of open takeout boxes spread along the countertop.
“Love it.” I joined him at the counter, my knees bumping against his as I got up on the bar stool, sending tingles of pleasure up my thigh.
I served myself a piece from each carton, as no way did I refuse the offer of free food. I’d nearly put a huge forkful of prawn Pad Thai in my mouth when I stopped midway, aware Mason was staring at me with a lopsided grin on his face. “What?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “I like people who enjoy their food.”
“I never turn down food.” I shoveled the fragrant food into my mouth, talking around my chewing. “Ever.”
He nodded and ate a few mouthfuls of his own before saying, “I had a good time today.”
“Me too.” I turned to him. “Did it feel good to get back to basics?”
“It did. I’d almost forgotten how much fun manual labor can be—” He rolled his shoulders a couple of times. “—though, I for sure don’t miss all the aches and pains.” He gave me a sly look. “Come tomorrow morning, you’ll know exactly what I mean.”
I gave him a cheesy grin. “Nah. I’m young and fit; I’ll be fine.”
He smirked. “We’ll see.”
“Did you renovate your own place?”
He shook his head. “I took one of the apartments in a building we constructed in the city.”
“You build apartment blocks too?”
He smiled indulgently. “We build everything.”
“Shit.” Hotels, apartments… I daren’t ask what else they built, I didn’t think I could take the shock. I was so far removed from his life we were in different time zones. With his handsome face, hot body, and all his money, having anyone he wanted would be so easy. Anyone. And they’d without doubt trample me into the dirt to get to him.
“It’s only a job, Ash,” he told me, intuitively working out where my brain headed.
“How come you don’t have a partner?” I asked, ignoring his statement, as yeah, right, there’s no way his work is only a job .
His jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed at the question. Okay. Touchy subject.
“I did have a girlfriend.” he stated after a couple of moments, his voice flat and unemotional. “A fiancée actually.”
“Did?”
“She left me.” The hollow laugh that followed held no humor. I hated it. “For her personal trainer, no less.” He snorted. “What a fucking cliché.” He stabbed at his food and shoved the noodles into his mouth. I assumed that’s as much as he wanted to tell me until he huffed and verbalized whatever was going on in his head. “It’s dumb, I know,” he said softly, “but I thought we had our life all figured out. Our future together.” He shook his head, the defeated look on his face twisting my insides. “Lindsay was the perfect fiancée. Blonde, tall, gorgeous, fun to be around, but more importantly, extremely intelligent and successful.”
I hated her already.
“She knew everyone, fit in anywhere, but, man, never cross her.”
“Oh?” Hopefully she had a foul temper or wasn't as sickly sweet as I’d already imagined her to be.
“She’s a criminal lawyer. Get on the wrong side of her, and you’ll regret it.” Despite his apparent bitterness, he mentioned the last part with an air of pride impossible to miss.
A few observations went through my head at this point.
One, any inklings I’d harbored of Mason and I being together went flying out the window and into the sunset. He was 100 percent straight after all.
Two, he hadn’t gotten over their breakup and still mourned the life and woman he’d lost.
And three, his fiancée couldn’t have been that intelligent if she left him for her fucking personal trainer. I liked that one.
But the final thought whirring around inside my brain, and for me, the most important one, was where the hell did this leave me? Firmly stuck in the friend zone, was my guess. I suppose being a friend made life easier in the long term, and where I’d originally decided I should be anyway, right? I could sit here and rationalize the situation all night, give a whole bunch of reasons why this should be the right decision, but I’d only be lying. Somewhere along the way, I’d given myself hope. A small, dim light at the end of an extraordinarily long tunnel, offering me the slightest chance to have gotten somewhere with this smart, sexy, fragile man.
It was all moot now of course, but to say I was crushingly disappointed at the outcome would be a massive understatement.
“I’d always figured I’d live the American dream,” he continued wistfully. “Big house, white picket fence, a couple of kids, a dog maybe.” He shook his head. “Dumb.”
His words left me sinking lower and lower as they confirmed exactly what I’d figured out yesterday. He wanted the life I could never offer. I wasn't long-term relationship material. Hell, I was barely one-time hookup material, going on my past record. So, there was no point moping, no matter how much I wanted what he wanted. There’d always be the fear that if I gave myself to him he’d only take a second to realize I wasn't worth the effort and leave. I was too much work and too screwed up to ever make him happy.
I’d fuck the relationship up the same as always.
Placing my hand over his, I gave a small squeeze. “Why is that dumb? I’d love all that,” I answered without thinking, causing Mason to stare at me for the longest time. “For you,” I spluttered at him trying to cover my tracks. “I’d love all that for you.”
Deliberately removing his hand from under mine, a chill crawled across my skin at the movement, instinctively knowing I’d said the wrong thing.
“Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen,” he replied sourly, and I got the message loud and clear. Pushing his plate farther along the counter, he stood, the stool scraping across the hardwood floor. “I’m beat. I’m gonna head off to bed. We’ve an early start tomorrow morning.”
I glanced at the time on the large clock on the wall: 8:33 p.m. “Oh, sure. Right. Good plan.” Standing, too, I walked around the counter into the kitchen. “You go, and I’ll tidy up.”
Without saying another word, he walked off down the hallway.
“Goodnight,” I said as he disappeared.
I got no response.