Page 25 of Making It Burn

Me: Patsy, you didn't have to do that.

Patsy: Nonsense.What are colleagues for?Have a wonderful day, darling!

I stared at my phone, a mix of panic and something else I refused to name flooding my system.

Mason.Here.At my parents' house.

"Fuck," I muttered.

"Language, Beau," my mother said without looking up from her grapefruit.

"Sorry."I stood abruptly, nearly knocking over my chair."I need to—there's a colleague coming to help.He'll be here soon."

My father lowered his newspaper exactly two inches."A colleague?From the firm?"

"Yes."

"Does this colleague have a name?"

"Mason Price."

"Price?"My father's eyebrows rose."Any relation to the Prices from Hanover County?"

"I have no idea, Dad."

"Well, what does his father do?"

"I don't know.I've never met his father."I was already backing toward the door."We played against each other in high school.He went to Collegiate.Lacrosse.”Fuck, I was babbling. “I should go make sure the movers haven't broken anything—"

"Why are you nervous?"My mother tilted her head, studying me with those all-seeing eyes."It's just a colleague."

"I'm not nervous."

"Your face is flushed."

"It's warm in here."

"It's sixty-two degrees."

Gracie appeared in the doorway like a ghost materializing from the ether, coffeepot in hand.Her eyes met mine, and one silver eyebrow arched so high it nearly disappeared into her hairline.

Boy trouble, that eyebrow said.I told you so.

"More coffee, Mr.Beau?"she asked, her voice perfectly neutral.

"No.Thank you.I'm good."I was already heading for the hallway."I'll just—I'll be outside."

I made it to the front door and stood there for a moment, trying to calm my racing pulse.This was fine.This was completely normal.A colleague was coming to help me move because our boss had voluntold him.There was nothing weird about this.

Except everything about this was weird.

I'd barely slept last night.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mason in his office—the way he'd looked at my mouth, the careful distance he'd maintained, the crack in his armor when he'd told me about his mother.And then I'd think about him going home alone to that sterile apartment, and I'd wonder if he was thinking about me too.

Which was insane.And pointless.And exactly the kind of thing that was going to get me in trouble.

A sleek black Audi pulled up the circular driveway.Mason climbed out, and I forgot how to breathe.

He was wearing jeans.Actual jeans that fit him perfectly, showing off long legs and narrow hips.A simple gray t-shirt that clung to his shoulders and chest in ways that should've been illegal.His blond hair was slightly mussed, like he'd been running his hands through it, and he was wearing sunglasses that made him look like he'd stepped out of a magazine spread.