Chapter 8
Mason couldn’t believe he was actually nervous about going to dinner at Jordan’s house.
He also couldn’t figure out why he was nervous.
It was just dinner, for crying out loud.
Dinner with people who were grateful to him for doing his job.
How had he managed to blow it up into something to be nervous about?
And why in the hell had he told Blaine about the mouth-to-mouth thing?
So stupid.
Now someone else knew that he’d felt, for a second, like he was kissing Jordan when he was trying to save her life.
Ugh.
This was why he’d all but given up on women and dating and all the nonsense that went along with it.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been out with anyone, because he’d grown tired of the dance and the endless cycle of getting his hopes up about someone only to have them dashed.
He’d been through the full gauntlet—from a wedding called off one month before the big day, to promising first dates that never materialized into second dates, to no-shows, ghosting and everything in between.
It was a wonder he wasn’t drooling in a corner somewhere, hiding from the world.
But rather than do that, he’d simply stepped off the merry-go-round and focused on other things, such as ramping up his fitness routine so he was back in the best shape he’d been in since his competitive weightlifting days.
He was also devoted to his work, his friends, his sobriety and the community he served, keeping himself so busy, he rarely had time to feel lonely.
Some people weren’t meant for happily ever after.
Maybe he was one of them. He had an uncle who’d never married and had led a rich, fulfilling life without having had a family of his own.
Mason was determined to do the same if that was his fate.
He’d be thirty-six this year and was more aware of time passing him by than he’d ever been before, especially as many of his friends welcomed their second and third children.
Blaine had told him last week that Tiffany was expecting their second child together and the third in their family.
Blaine was completely smitten with his stepdaughter, Ashleigh, who had him firmly wrapped around every one of her cute little fingers.
His friend was a lucky man to have a wife and children and an extended family that loved him.
Mason hadn’t been lucky in that regard. So what?
Not everyone got lucky that way. He had a good life that satisfied him, and he refused to get maudlin about what hadn’t happened.
He much preferred to focus on the good things.
The incident with Jordan had thrown him off his stride.
That’s all it was. He’d be ludicrous to act on something that had been completely involuntary on her part.
She hadn’t actually kissed him. She’d been having an asthma attack, for crying out loud.
Yes, he’d enjoyed talking to her last night at the clinic, but allowing himself to get nervous about going to dinner at her house was just plain ridiculous.
By the time he pulled into the driveway to Eastward Look, he’d talked himself out of the nerves.
It was just dinner—food and conversation with nice people.
Blowing it up to something more than that was what had made him nervous in the first place.
He was better after working it out in his mind, the way he did when things confounded him.
Lights were on inside and over the front door, making the house look warm and welcoming.
Mason reached for the flowers he’d bought for Nikki and Jordan and got out of the SUV.
As he headed for the door, Jordan appeared, and suddenly, he was nervous again.
She opened the door for him. “Hi there.”
He drank in the details of her stunning face. “Hi. How’re you feeling?”
“Much better after sleeping half the day away.” Her long dark hair was down around her shoulders.
She wore an oversized Gansett Island sweatshirt and pink sweats.
Other than the shadows under her expressive dark eyes, you’d never know she’d been through such an ordeal the night before.
He liked that she hadn’t felt the need to dress up for him or put on excessive amounts of makeup other than the mascara that made her extravagant lashes more so.
Despite the many reasons he shouldn’t be attracted, her fresh, natural, unadorned look appealed to him like nothing had in a very long time.
“Sometimes, that’s just what you need.” He felt like a hulking giant next to her in the vestibule. She was tiny compared to him, more than a foot shorter.
She didn’t seem to feel crowded, though, as she looked up at him, her gaze taking a thorough inspection, or that’s how it seemed to him, at least.
He’d gone home to shower and change before dinner. He was wearing jeans and an untucked light blue button-down shirt and had removed the bandage that had covered the cut on his forehead. Feeling self-conscious, he rubbed his face. “Did I cut myself shaving or something?”
She smiled up at him. “No, I was just noticing how different you look out of uniform.”
“You saw me out of uniform last night.”
“I know, but today I saw you in your uniform, and I thought it looked really nice on you.”
“Is that right?”
“Uh-huh. You know how you expect someone to always look a certain way, and then they look different, and it’s like you’re meeting them all over again? That’s how I felt seeing you in your uniform today.”
Could she be any more sweet or adorable? “How is it possible that I actually understood that?”
Her smile got even bigger. “Where is your sling?”
“I can’t stand it. I threw it out the window on the way over here.”
“You did not!”
“I did.”
“That’s littering.”
“Some animal will find it and use it to line their nest. That’s the only thing it’s good for anyway.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “Isn’t it against the law for the chief of the fire department to litter?”
“Are you going to report me?” Were they flirting? Is that what this was? If so, he was rather enjoying it. As if the conversation he’d had with himself on the way over had never happened, he leaned against the doorframe, settling into the conversation.
“Maybe.” She nodded to the flowers. “Are those for me?”
“And your sister. For having me over.” He handed the two bundles to her. “You can pick which one you like the best.”
Jordan appeared to give the choice some considerable thought before settling on the pink roses over the mixed assortment. “Nikki will like these,” she said of the second bouquet.
He thought it was sweet that she made her choice based on what her sister would prefer.
“Jordan! Let Mason come in, will you?”
Jordan’s sheepish little grin twisted him up inside, minutes after he’d lectured himself about swearing off women and the drama that came with them.
Drama was this woman’s middle name. She’d made a profitable career out of courting and exploiting it, which was contrary to what he wanted for himself.
He had no business finding her adorable or wishing he could actually kiss those sweet lips that formed the cutest smiles.
As he followed her into the house, he told himself not to look, but found his gaze traveling over her anyway, which didn’t do a thing to support his “don’t get involved” campaign.
Despite the oversized clothing, she was still one of the sexiest women he’d ever met.
Her sister was equally attractive, but standing in the kitchen with both of them, his gaze sought out only one of them.
“Glad you could make it, Mason,” Nikki said. “What can I get you to drink? We have beer, wine, vodka, soda, water.”
His mouth watered from the scent of garlic and spices. The stench of smoke had been largely eliminated by the removal of the living room furniture and rug. “I’ll do a cola or ginger ale if you have it.”
“Are you on duty?” Jordan asked.
“Nope, but I don’t drink anymore. I’ve been in recovery for thirteen years.” He was always transparent on the subject of why he avoided alcohol, preferring to share his truth rather than try to hide from it. That, too, helped him stay sober.
“Oh.” Jordan sat at one of the stools at the counter and gestured for him to join her. “That’s cool.”
As he slid onto the stool, he could tell she wanted to ask more about it but didn’t. “I’m an open book on that topic,” he said as he accepted a glass of iced ginger ale from Nikki, “so don’t be shy if you want to know about it.”
“It’s none of my business,” Jordan said, “but good for you. That’s an amazing accomplishment.”
“Thanks. It’s something I’m proud of.”
Nikki put both bouquets in water and placed them on the countertop. “Thanks for the flowers, Mason. They’re gorgeous.”
“The pink ones are mine,” Jordan said, flashing that sly, sexy little grin at him again.
“I like these better anyway,” Nikki said of hers.
Jordan winked at him, as if to say, Told you so.
Mason was dazzled by her, and all the warnings in the world couldn’t stop him from wanting more of her or from doing something that would probably lead to even more heartache than he’d experienced in the past. She was the kind of woman who could truly ruin him, which was all the more reason to keep his distance.
But as he sat next to her in the cozy kitchen, a feeling of rightness and completion came over him that made him feel even more ridiculous than he had earlier.
He was smitten.
No fool like an old fool, he thought, having been down this road so many times, he knew the routine by heart.
He could name every pothole and detour that was waiting to derail him, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to care about any of that now that he was sitting a foot from her, steeped in the rich, fragrant scent of her hair and on the receiving end of her sweet, sexy smiles.
All he wanted was more of her—any way he could get it.