3. Lana
3
LANA
“ G o out with me,” Mason says with a smile that has my knees weak and my heart racing in my chest. It’s so unexpected I can’t help the way my lips quirk up.
“Now?” A date seems ridiculous when we were practically dry humping against this tree.
“Why not?” He says it so casually, like a man without responsibilities—just going where the night takes him. The haze of desire I’d been caught up in doesn’t seem so blinding with a little space between us. I open my mouth to tell him I can’t, that I need to get home and… what?
The kids are with my parents for the weekend, and I haven’t been on a date in years. Even when Jacob took me out, it was more to be seen rather than to enjoy a night together out on the town.
“You know what?”
“I don’t, but I like that gleam in your eyes.”
“It’s been a long time since I had fun, and today was definitely fun.” I pause, biting my bottom lip and watching as his gaze drops to my mouth. Huh, that actually works. “I just don’t know what happens next.”
Taking my hand, Mason tangles his fingers with mine before bringing them to his mouth. Pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles, he holds my gaze as he says, “You let me buy you ice cream and we go from there.”
“You want to buy me ice cream?” I ask in disbelief.
“I want to start with buying you ice cream.” He brushes my hair off my face and tucks it gingerly behind my ear. “I like this thing between us, Lana, and I don’t want it to end when I walk you to your car.”
His words are sexy—romantic and demanding all at once. It’s the perfect combination, and I can feel myself nodding before the words even leave my lips.
“I want that too.”
“Good. I know the perfect spot.”
I followed Mason from the dirt lot to a small, roadside ice cream place that had a fresh coat of white paint and a red awning and only about half the flavors of the bigger shops.
“Have you been here before?” I ask as I peruse the menu, deciding between mint chocolate chip and chocolate.
“I have; everything’s good.”
“Sampled them all, have you?” I tease as he wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me against his side. It shouldn’t feel so natural being this close to him— wanting to be this close—but I can’t deny the way my soul is absolutely singing at the contact.
“A time or two.” His lips quirk up and I shake my head. “Can I help you make a decision?”
“I’m stuck between mint chocolate chip or chocolate.”
“Are they both your favorite?”
“No, strawberry was my favorite, but after having my daughter I’ve developed an allergy.” I gulp, the sound audible because I hadn’t meant to just drop that bomb without warning. I expect Mason to make up an excuse and bolt, but he just smiles and tilts his head toward the menu.
“Allergic to strawberries and looking for a new favorite—got it. I’d go for mint chocolate chip.”
“Sold,” I say, completely in awe at the way he didn’t even flinch.
After we place our orders, we grab a seat at the picnic table. When our ice cream is ready, Mason jumps up and grabs them both, mint chocolate chip in a cup for me and black cherry in a cone for him.
The ice cream is delicious, the mint and chocolate working together in perfect harmony. It’s nice.
Comfortable.
But it doesn’t take long before my need to self-sabotage rears its ugly head, the words falling out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“I have a lot of baggage, Mason, like a lot and I just…” I laugh softly. “Making out with strange men I just met isn’t me.”
“We already established you had fun, but if you want to exchange traumas, I guess we can do that too.”
I stare at him, surprised, the question what could you possibly know about trauma on the tip of my tongue.
But the words never leave my lips, because devastation swirls in his bourbon-colored eyes, and I have no doubt the scars he carries are far worse than mine. So instead, I try for levity because for some reason, I can’t let this go. I want him to know what he’s getting—even if it’s just for one night.
“I’m a divorced, single mom with two kids and a jerkwad of an ex-husband who cheated on me with an unknown number of women during our marriage. My best friend is actually one of his mistresses who didn’t know he was married, and after he cheated on her with his current wife, started digging and found me. I had to get a job after being home with the kids for over eleven years, which is fine but humbling when you have to explain to people why you have such a gap in work history. Even though stay-at-home moms should be celebrated because that shit is hard… they’re not . ”
“Anything else?”
“I can’t remember the last time I had sex and didn’t think I could have done it better myself .” I nod. “Now I’m done.”
“I’m twenty-three, placed in foster care at the age of seven. My father killed my mother and he was paroled a couple of years ago. After my mother died, I was placed with my aunt, my mother’s sister, but she died not long after due to heartbreak and a prescription meds cocktail. I bounced around homes for a while, and then when I was nine, I found Bodhi.” Mason looks out at the nearby field. “He’s my brother in all the ways that count. Saved me. Protected me. Loved me.”
“You’ve lived a long time,” I say, acknowledging all the things he’s not saying, and his lips kick up just a little in one corner.
“And you know what I realized?”
“What’s that?”
“I could waste this life I’ve been given, take for granted the things that my brother has sacrificed to give me opportunities he never had,”—he grins, the slow kind that says he knows I’m hanging on his every word—“or I can make it everything I want it to be.”
“Is this”—I motion between us—“everything you want it to be?”
“Ice cream with a beautiful woman?” He nods, his hair falling over his forehead. “Definitely.”
“And what if I was to also make this everything I want and ask you to come home with me?” Heat creeps up my neck but I hold his gaze, trying my best to exude the confidence he seems to possess so naturally.
Mason smiles, reaching across the table to tangle his fingers with mine. Jacob was never this touchy with me and, God, we’d been married for over ten years. And somewhere along the way, I’d convinced myself that I didn’t need him to hold my hand—I could hold my own damn hand if I wanted.
But in this moment, I can see how starved I was for physical intimacy. How even for just tonight, I’ll throw caution to the wind just to have a taste of what I’ve been missing.
“I’d say it’s damn near the best day of my life.”