Page 17 of Erotic Temptations 1

Fuck that. I wasn’t ashamed of who I was. I’d dealt with assholes like him before, who thought their narrowminded opinion needed to be heard, who thought shaming someone for being gay was their right. If he could be an asshole, so could I.

“Santa,” Mason repeated.

“What?” I snapped. Oh shit. I’d actually answered to that name. If I didn’t get out of this place, I might end up wandering the parking lot looking for my sleigh.

“I need you to calm down,” he whispered into my ear. If I turned my head, our lips would touch. I was tempted.

“Santa will not be silenced,” I whispered back, giving in to the urge to nip his chin. Stubble prickled my lips.

Mason hissed. “Behave. And we’ll finish our earlier conversation in private.”

“I think I’ve got it figured out.” We moved closer to the counter.

“Impress me,” he said.

My toes curled in my boots. For a moment, I lost the ability to think. I’d caught the double meaning. Blinking to clear the filthy thoughts from my head, I focused on our conversation and not those lips I was dying to kiss.

“You instantly crushed on me, thought I’d feel it and become uncomfortable. So, to make sure your attraction didn’t become my problem, you decided to be a douche instead. Am I close or in a completely different zip code?” It hadn’t been hard to puttogether once I had all the pieces. Or I needed to hand in my amateur detective badge.

I wasn’t sure which from the way he was staring at me. I had an urge to snap my fingers in his face. “Well?”

“You nailed it,” he said. “Nobody deserves to feel uncomfortable, no matter the setting.”

One person was now in front of us, pocketing packets of condiments while he waited for someone to take his order.

“But you were a jerk to me,” I reminded him.

“Apparently my logic needs some work.” He shook his head. Then we ordered our food.

* * * *

Ten minutes later, we were sitting in the small, windowless room behind the supply shelves. The food was so good I could’ve cried. Rice, noodles, chicken. The works. For a second, I thought about proposing to the plastic take-out container. Half my meal was gone before Mason even finished his first bite. I forced myself to slow down, to savor the spices and enjoy the moment. We’d both ditched the hats and my beard on the supplied hooks, and my face could finally breathe. My skin still burned from the tape trauma. I probably looked like I’d lost a battle with an angry sea sponge.

The little folding table rocked slightly and the overhead fluorescent bulb made it look like we were in an interrogation room. My gaze flicked to the door, waiting for a seasoned cop to barge in, pound the table with his fist, and accuse me of being an imposter before demanding to know where I’d hidden the real Santa.

As I refocused on my food, I noticed Mason watching me. Not in a creepy way but like he was trying to decide if I was somehow trouble and a snack all at once.

“My mind cannot take all this quiet.” I took a drink of soda to quench my dry mouth. “Talk about something before my imagination has me doing twenty-five to life.”

He didn’t ask. Just grinned, like he thought I was adorable or he’d just found his soulmate.

“Thought you’d want to decompress after hours of dealing with mall noise.”

“Decompress, not sit in total silence.” I set down my drink. “My brain holds me hostage when it’s bored.”

Mason’s lips twitched. “Makes you do twenty-five to life?”

Picking up my fork, I told him about the interrogation between bites.

His rich laughter drew me in without effort. “Does the prison term you mentioned mean you’re guilty?’

I ran a napkin over my mouth, catching stray sauce. “Are you trying to get a confession out of me without my lawyer? I have an entire defense team that’ll eat you for breakfast, just as soon as they take a nap.”

Mason grinned, eyes filled with amusement. The man looked unfairly good even when simply breathing. “You’re not the only one with connections out there. At least my defense team is potty trained.”

For a heartbeat we stared at each other, then erupted into the kind of laughter that shook our bodies and made it hard to breathe.

I couldn’t remember ever doing this before—eating with abandon and not caring if I looked like a total dork. Mason was easy to be around, easy to talk to, not only getting my humor but actively engaging in it.