The Suite Spot (Beck Sisters #2)(43)

I am not a woman who can’t order her own food. And like Mason, I can eat my weight in sushi. But he’s said more words in one night than he’s spoken since I’ve known him. I don’t want him to stop. “Let’s do that. And whatever beer is best with sushi, which I’m guessing is something light like pilsner.”

Mason’s eyes widen and he nods his approval. “Nailed it in one. And if you’re going to have pilsner, it might as well be the original.”

He orders the food along with a couple bottles of Pilsner Urquell.

“One summer when we were in college, Matt and I did a backpack tour of European breweries,” he says. “We went to Guinness, Carlsberg, Heineken, Chimay, Bitburger, and Weihenstephan, but Pilsner Urquell was the holy grail.”

“I could not tell you where any of those—No, wait. Guinness is Irish and at least a couple of those are German.”

“Ireland, Denmark, the Netherlands, Belgium, Germany, and Czechia.”

“I’d love to go to Germany,” I say. “My grandparents live in Berlin, but we’ve never met because my mom is estranged from them. They’ve sent birthday cards and Christmas gifts since Anna and I were young, but I don’t really know them.”

“You should go.”

“I’ll have to ask my boss for some time off.”

The corner of his mouth hitches up in a half grin. “You might have to wait until winter, but the Christmas markets will make it worthwhile.”

“Most bosses aren’t so generous.”

“Yeah, well, I learned the hardest way that life is too short.” He looks down at the bar a moment, then clears his throat. “But even before that, our employees at Fish Brothers were productive and happy because we didn’t suck the life out of them. There has to be space for more than just work.”

“Funny how you don’t follow your own policy.”

“Hey, I’m sitting in a restaurant with a beautiful woman, eating sushi, and talking about beer.” He goes completely still when he realizes what he said. “Which I hope you will take as the compliment it was meant to be, and not as, you know, sexual harassment.”

My laughter begins with shaking shoulders and by the time Mason joins in, I’ve got tears trickling from the corners of my eyes. “No one has ever complimented me quite like that.”

“I aim to please,” he says. “Or, more accurately, to make things weirder than they need to be.”

“A-plus effort.”

We fall silent, and briefly I hope he’ll double back to the compliment. Maybe he’ll say all the things I want to say to him. But he doesn’t. The bartender brings us a how are we ever going to eat all this? amount of sushi, and we eat every bite.

The beer flows. The conversation flows. And I have no idea how to turn off the tap of feelings I have for this man.



* * *



We wander slowly back to the hotel, lingering to throw pennies in the fountain at the bottom of Columbus Avenue. We keep our wishes to ourselves.

The hotel bar is crowded as we reach the back deck.

“Do you want to grab another drink?” Mason asks.

I’m stuffed with raw fish and beer, and it’s been a long day, but I don’t want the night to end. Tomorrow we’ll be back to business and I’m not ready to let go of this version of Mason Brown, whose jaw never once tightened and whose shoulders never went up. I also really like this version of Rachel Beck, who had dinner with a man who doesn’t send her into anxiety spirals. “I could have one more.”

His fingertips touch the small of my back as he leans in. “Wait here.” As he walks away, the warm imprint of his fingers stays with me.

Mason returns with two glasses of rosé. “It’s standing room only in there, so we might as well stay out here.” He lifts his glass to offer me a toast. “Yes way, rosé.”

I laugh as we clink glasses. “I like it here.”

“The hotel? Sandusky? Ohio?”

“All of the above.”

“Good.”

Despite what Keane said about Mason lighting flares, his signals have been all over the place tonight. Right now I get the feeling that I could take his hand and lead him willingly up to my room. But I’m not sure he knows what he wants. Especially when only a few days ago he admitted he’d been waiting for Jess to come back. After four years of nothing special with Brian, I want more than to be someone’s rebound fling.

“I was thinking about trying out movie night on the back patio when it’s my turn to host book club,” I say. “We can work out all the hiccups before we have guests. And I have to basically go big or go home.”

Mason shakes his head. “I would have lived in eternal ignorance about the true nature of book club if Avery hadn’t asked to borrow the karaoke machine.”

“Wait. That’s yours?”

“I bought it for the taproom.”

“Not gonna lie, I kinda love that you bought a karaoke machine before you even had a bar or … beer.”

“What can I say? I’m an optimist.”

“Yes. Like Eeyore is an optimist.”

He laughs. “I’m not that bad.”

“Not when you try.”

Mason’s face settles into a thoughtful expression, his eyes dark and serious. “I’m trying.”