The Suite Spot (Beck Sisters #2)(63)
“Mason.” Avery waves her glass of beer at him. “I didn’t see a gift from you on that table tonight.”
“Yeah, I didn’t get Rachel one single thing.”
I laugh, fingering the orangey-red carnelian stone around my neck. “A surprise party is a huge gift. I’ll never forget this.”
“Actually,” he says. “Your present is … out behind the barn.”
“You don’t have a barn,” Avery points out.
“Sex, babe,” Daniel says through a yawn. “Maybe there’s an actual present too, but he’s definitely talking about sex.”
She sits upright and grips his forearm dramatically. “We need to go home.”
He laughs as he unfolds himself from the chair. “Ya think?”
“Call us for cleanup duty when you’re … you know … tomorrow or whatever,” Avery says, kissing my cheek. “Happy birthday, have fun, and don’t forget to use bug spray.”
As soon as they’re gone, Mason takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. He leads me beyond the cabins, into the woods. No path, only a small flashlight to guide us as he weaves between the trees with a confidence that comes from years of experience. Before long, we reach a small clearing, and my breath catches in my chest. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of fairy lights are strung through the branches of the surrounding trees, and on the ground is a bed—a mattress fitted with sheets, pillowcases, and a faux fur blanket of deep forest green. Sitting in the middle of the bed is a gift wrapped in brown kraft paper with a twine bow.
“Oh, Mason, this is—”
He interrupts me with a searing kiss that has been all day in the making, his hands on my face and his tongue claiming my mouth. It’s the kind of kiss that should be a prelude to tearing off our clothes and having hot, sweaty, gasping sex. But he pulls away abruptly, leaving me breathless.
“I’ll be right back,” he says. “Open your present.”
“Wait. What? Where are you going?”
“Just … open your present.”
Mason disappears into the dark, leaving me alone in the clearing. I approach the bed, pick up the gift, and tug on the twine bow. It falls away and the paper follows. Inside the box is lingerie—a moss-green lace cami with buttons and a pair of matching high-waisted briefs with a lace panel on the front. The fabric is soft, but substantial. Expensive. Tasteful, yet incredibly sexy. Nothing I would ever dream of buying for myself, but exactly what I would choose if given the option. Exactly what someone would choose for me if they were paying attention. I remove my clothes and put on the lingerie. I have no mirror to see myself, but when Mason emerges from the woods, the hunger in his eyes tells me everything I need to know.
“Where did you go?” I ask.
“Nowhere.” His hand covers the lace across my breast and he grazes his lips against the side of my neck. “Just wanted to let you put this on so I could take it off.”
August
CHAPTER 22
Saudade
Portuguese
“deep, soul-rending sadness, flavored with longing and melancholy”
I would have never guessed that Ohio in August could be as sweltering as Florida, but on a dripping Saturday near the middle of the month, it’s too hot to work. Even the construction noises on the second-to-last cabin sound like they’re happening in slow motion. Mason locks up the brewhouse. We change into our bathing suits, pack a fast picnic, and take the golf cart to the beach. Leaving Maisie at Avery’s house makes me feel slightly guilty, but once the lake water hits my sticky skin, it’s easy enough to push the feeling away.
We float on our backs for a long time, then spread out towels on the sand and bake in the sun until we start sweating again. Literal rinse and repeat. We eat salami sandwiches and drink red wine straight from the bottle because we forgot to bring glasses. When we get tired from the sun and the wine, we head to the house, where we make love and fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon.
I wake to the sound of rain drumming out a melody on the roof. Mason is still asleep as I get out of bed, pull on a tank top and shorts, and go downstairs to make sure the rain isn’t coming in through the open windows. I’m standing at the front screen door, listening to thunder rumble across the sky, when the stairs creak and Mason comes up, wrapping his arms around me from behind and kissing the back of my neck. His voice is gravelly from sleep as he says, “Hey, you.”
“Hi.” I lean my head back against his shoulder. “Thanks for a perfect day.”
“I’ve got plenty more where this one came from.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yep.”
He goes quiet, and we stand there watching the rain overflow the eaves and cascade to the ground like a waterfall. Raindrops fall on a set of bamboo wind chimes hanging at the corner of the porch, making it clatter softly.
“Hey, Rachel?” Mason says as lightning crackles in the distance.
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
The first time I said those words to Brian, it should have been a red flag that our relationship was going nowhere. There were moments when he was tender and sweet, and I believed with a Maisie-like devotion that someday he would say it back. He never did. And then I rushed, headlong and foolish, into a relationship with a guy who said I love you too fast, but I was so desperate for it to be true that I swallowed the lie. The voice of experience in my head whispers maybe it’s too soon. But the calm in the center of my heart knows that when Mason Brown says those words, he means them.