Chapter 7 Mason
Mason
I should’ve fucking known June Spencer would betray me.
Grandpa was right. You can’t trust that woman.
He’s always warned me that June is fickle, disloyal, and self-interested. He’s told me, my brother, and our parents over the years, ad nauseum, never to count on her, and I know, in his mind, he’s got his reasons. His own history with June.
But I’ve never seen this side of June before.
And I did not see her coming.
Sierra Daniels.
A woman with haunted green eyes, the ability to win over a roomful of strangers while singing into a cider-bottle microphone, and sob-story her way into my bed. Last night, we laughed together. We laughed until we fucking cried together.
And I have no idea if one word she said was true.
I liked her so much, we didn’t even have sex.
She asked me not to kiss her, and later, in bed, when she changed her mind and begged me to kiss her, I surprised the hell out of myself when I didn’t.
When I wanted to be a gentleman about it, take care of her, even more than I wanted to take her clothes off.
I actually found myself entertaining the thought that I might’ve just met the woman of my dreams, and maybe this would be our messy, funny, sexy origin story.
What a load of shit.
Now I know the truth: that she was just way too good to be true.
That she’s actually the enemy.
That I let a stranger into my office at the bar, and into my home. She could’ve accessed or taken anything she could get her hands on.
A stranger . . . who’s working with June.
She probably knew exactly who I was when she walked into my bar and played me.
I can’t even decide if I’m more pissed off about that or the fact that she seemed to have so much fun doing it.
I should’ve charged her for those fucking drinks.
“Man, are you gonna pout all day?” Jace wipes the back of his work glove across his sweaty forehead, scowling at me across the room. “I can hear you moping right over the music.”
He turned it way the fuck up a few minutes ago, and The Black Keys’ “Please Me (Till I’m Satisfied)” is rolling out the giant open holes in the primary bedroom where the new windows will soon be installed. The music can probably be heard clear across the cove.
“I didn’t know you could read my mind,” I mutter as he sets down the nail gun he’s been using, then lowers the volume on the music.
“What?”
“I said, I didn’t know you cared.”
“Of course I do. You’ve barely grunted two words at me all day. I’m getting lonely over here.” He eyes me where I’m kneeling on the floor, putting together a shelving unit and generally ignoring him. He sighs, digs in his pockets, lights a joint.
“Can you not?” I grouch. “It’s fucking Saturday.” Which means Kaylie’s not at school and could be around here anywhere. He knows this.
“Right,” he says and puts it out. “Forgot.”
“And you wonder why Tommy doesn’t want you around.”
He chuckles. “Your grandpa doesn’t want me around because I remind him too much of his misspent youth. In other words, his glory days.”
I snort. “Is that how you see it? I realize you’re fairly delusional at the best of times, but shit.”
He ignores that. “So, what happened? I take it all this sulking is about Miss Behaving, from last night?”
I don’t respond to that.
“She turn out to be married? Or just not interested? Was she sadly unaffected by your massive pecs and soulful blue eyes?”
“Soulful?”
“I’ve heard they’re quite captivating. Or, wait. Are we still pretending you’re not interested in her? I’m afraid I can’t keep up with your alarming and ever-increasing tolerance for self-denial.”
“I’m not denying anything. We spent the night together. But to be clear, I’m not interested.”
Jace seems unconvinced. But the last thing I am is interested.
I’m so pissed at myself for being interested in the first place, I’m fuming.
I seriously can’t believe I slept with the enemy, totally unaware.
And now she’ll be sleeping right next door, according to her, in June Spencer’s “cozy private cottage.” For god knows how long.
A month? All summer? Longer?
As soon as I pin down June, which I will, I’ll find out how long that lease is. But how the hell do I convince such a stubborn, hateful old mule that it’s in her best interest to terminate it in favor of our original agreement?
“You’re doing it again,” says my annoyingly clairvoyant best friend.
“Yeah? Why can’t you read my mind when it’s saying fuck off, Jace?”
“Oh, I can.” He wanders over and sits down on the newly assembled bed, close to me, like we’re having an important heart-to-heart.
“You really could’ve lectured me from the other side of the room,” I inform him.
“I get it, okay? You’re a fucking grump, you’re jaded, you’re guarded. And maybe you have reason to be all those things. But what’re you gonna do, just renovate your castle tower, build the walls up nice and high, pimp out this bedroom, for what . . . yourself?”
“That was the plan.”
“It’s a stupid plan, man.”
I sigh.
I know I might as well tell him. Jace is a magnet for gossip, worse than all the old ladies in the local knitting circle and the jam and jelly club combined.
The only reason he hasn’t heard anything yet is that he’s been up on the third floor of my house all day installing wainscoting and the new bed frame.
The moment he leaves the house, or maybe checks his texts, he’ll get the scoop, I’m sure.
“Alright. Fuck. When I stopped off at Bev and Bill’s on my supply run this morning,” I tell him, concentrating on my work, “Bev was in, and she asked me if I’d heard about what was going on at Pier Seven.
She said she heard a rumor from a farmhand over at June Spencer’s that someone from the city was opening up a pop-up shop there. ”
“Uh-huh. And you think I gossip.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “I’ve heard you and Bev have an ongoing text conversation absolutely loaded with conspiracy theories.”
“So?”
“So, she’s a fifty-seven-year-old woman who runs the local general store with her husband. You have literally nothing in common except your bloodlust for other people’s private business.”
“That’s an important commonality.” He picks up a bottle of water and chugs half of it as I just shake my head.
“Well, Bev said she dropped into Pier Seven this morning to take a look, and there was a woman setting up with red streaks in her hair and tattoos. Definitely not local. You know Bev knows everyone.”
“Huh. Sounds potentially hot. Did you see her?”
“You’re missing the point. Bev asked her who owned the pop-up shop, and she said a woman named Sierra.”
I leave out the part about how, after talking to Bev, I came straight home to confront Sierra, and when I found her gone, I took her suitcase over to Pier Seven intending to leave it there for her—but found her and her employee out front and made a giant scene instead.
I really don’t need Jace telling me I overreacted.
I did not overreact. There’s no telling what Sierra Daniels is capable of, and Layne already told me that she met Kaylie and my grandpa in my kitchen.
I feel like a fucking fool bringing that woman into my house.
“Okay,” Jace says. “And judging by the look on your face, this is not good, because . . . ?”
“Are you kidding me? I’ve been negotiating with June for months to buy that damn building.
Which my parents were negotiating for months before that.
” Jace frowns. I try to ignore it, but my irritation is creeping up.
“There was a plan. The next step in that plan was that we’d run our pop-up there this month, leading up to Sunshine Fest. It was a fucking given. ”
Jace cocks an eyebrow. “Was it?”
“And now June leases out the building to someone else, without telling me? It’s fucking bullshit.”
“So, talk to her about it. Maybe there was a misunderstanding.”
“Right. How can I trust a word that woman says now?”
“Who? Sierra or June?”
“Both.”
Jace sighs as I ignore him in favor of screwing shelves into place. “Look, I know you’re used to things going your way. And you’re stubborn as fuck. That’s what happens when you’re a natural leader and you’re usually right about everything, and people respect you, even if they don’t like you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m just saying. You’re very comfortable being the big alpha at the table, whether people like it or not. Because you only care what a few people actually think anyway. Including me.”
“Now that’s an unproven rumor,” I mutter.
“You keep your inner circle tight, love it that people trust you, but you don’t trust them easily. And you liked this girl. I mean, you liked this girl. I haven’t seen you into someone like that since—”
“Really don’t say it.”
“So, now you feel stung because, what? You think her pop-up shop stands in the way of your plans? You think you’re in competition with her for June’s favor now?”
“We are in competition. Whatever deal she’s made with June, it’s supplanted mine. And in case you didn’t get the memo, June hates me and my entire family.”
“Whatever. You’re local, Sierra’s not. June isn’t stupid. She knows that building belongs with your family. She probably just forgot about your pop-up.”
“We ran the same pop-up there last summer.”
“A lot has changed since last summer,” he reminds me.
I ignore the way his voice takes on that wary, gentle tone.
The tone everyone, even my best friend, has used with me since the accident, every time my parents come up in conversation.
Like I’m delicate now. Fragile. Like there’s some hidden part of me that’s been turned to glass and should be handled with care—or it’ll break and puncture something vital, and all my ability to deal will leak right out.
Maybe it will.
“There was a plan, Jace,” I reiterate.
“A verbal agreement, maybe. But since the parties that made that agreement aren’t here to get specific about it,” he says carefully, “maybe you need to revisit that agreement with June. And this time, get that shit in writing.”