Page 70 of Hidden Resolution

“I didn’t ask you, dear. I asked Shonda,” Connie replied. Her sweetness didn’t mask the steel underneath. “You’ll stay to keep me company.”

Shonda liked Connie. She really did. But the woman had been all too eager to nudge her and Mason into each other’s arms since they met earlier. And if Shonda found it annoying, she could only imagine what commitmentphobe Mason was experiencing. Did Connie not know her son at all? Did she believe the king of emotional detachment would willingly wade into a relationship? The poor woman was deluded if she did. The continual push would send him backpedaling in the opposite direction.

“I’ll be happy to check,” Shonda said, hiding a wry smile. “Be right back.”

Amusement flickered in Connie’s knowing eyes. It caught Shonda off guard. What had she been like in her youth? Wild? Reckless? Softhearted? Had Connie been a carefree heartbreaker, like Mason? Or staid and family-oriented, like Dane? Probably a mix of the two, similar to Zack, who seemed to laugh easily and love with every fiber of his being.

“Thank you, dear,” Connie said.

“Think nothing of it,” Shonda replied, dry as desert.

She found Mason leaning against the kiosk counter, fully engaged in a flirty conversation with a female employee. The woman’s V-neck did little to hide the sexy lace bra or the nipples it was supposed to shield. Subtlety was not part of the barista’s wardrobe.

Shonda remained torn about interrupting. Her stomach knotted as the woman laughed suggestively and bent closer to whisper in his ear. Mason’s smirk didn’t falter as she pressed a piece of paper into his hand. As a matter of fact, he appeared utterly relaxed.

The green-eyed monster Shonda had buried under logic and self-respect tore free and leapt straight for her throat.

“Excuse me,” she called, the rudeness ringing through the quiet lull of the coffee line. “Your mother is waiting on her order, and the line’s backing up. Think you could let this poor girl get back to work?”

Mason’s glance swept the growing line of patrons before landing on her with a wintry weight. Her stomach pitched. Although he didn’t reply, the annoyed glint in his eyes said plenty.

Shonda had overplayed her hand. It didn’t matter that she’d called it quits last night. By creating a scene, she’d driven the final nail in the coffin of their relationship.

And the knowledge stung far more than expected.

He tucked the phone number into his back pocket, stepped around her without a word, and sauntered away. The effort it took to keep her expression neutral was monumental. Her only consolation was a moving line.

“Can I get a slice of lemon pound cake?” she asked politely.

If Erica could find solace in sugar, maybe she could, too.

Shonda passed a ten to the smirking barista and accepted change with a clipped smile.

Mason had vanished, for which she was grateful. Her emotional meltdown wouldn’t have an audience.

Okay, maybe one witness.

Dane leaned against the wall outside the women’s restroom, arms folded.

Of all the rotten luck.

“Shonda.” His warm understanding made it harder to pretend.

And he had to have known.Having gotten them coffee earlier, he was sure to have seen the pin-up-worthy barista and known she was Mason’s type. He’d tried to save her by offering to fetch Mason and their missing order.

“It’s fine,” she croaked. “Really. Do you mind?”

She gestured to the bathroom door behind him.

“Not at all,” he said, flashing a roguish grin as if her world wasn’t imploding.

She stepped forward, but before she could pass, his arms came around her, and his mouth covered hers.

Holy hell.

The bag with her cake hit the floor as her hands gripped his shoulders. His kiss was firm and unapologetic, coming close to helping her forget.

“What the actual fuck?”Mason’s furious snarl brought a threatening energy.