Page 82 of Making It Burn

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Don’t let it distract you from your goals.Happiness is lovely, but partnership is permanent.”She turned to the manicurist.“The pinky is uneven.Fix it, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Gracie, show Beau out.And remind me to call the photographer tomorrow.These proofs are unacceptable.”

I followed Gracie to the foyer, where she handed me my coat with the slow deliberation of someone who’d been doing this for decades.As I shrugged it on, she leaned in close, her ancient face softening just slightly.

“You’ve got that look,” she whispered.

“What look?”

“The same look your father had when he first met your mother—like someone hit you in the head with a brick and you’re still trying to figure out which way is up.”Her eyes twinkled.“That boy who helped you move.Him, right?”

My face went hot.“Gracie—”

“Mr.Beau.I know that look.”She patted my arm with surprising gentleness.“Whatever it is, whoever he is, hold on to it.”

“How do you—”

“I pay attention.”She straightened my collar with a firm tug.“Your mama noticed too, even if she won’t say it out loud.That’s not her way.But she sees things.”Gracie’s expression turned serious.“Just be careful.People like her, they notice everything.They just choose what they want to acknowledge.”

The words settled over me uncomfortably as I headed to my car.

People notice everything.

I sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the house that had never quite felt like home, and pulled out my phone.Mason had texted fifteen minutes ago.

Dinner?Risotto?I’ll cook.

I typed back-

I’ll bring wine.Can’t wait to see you.

His response came immediately.

Same.Drive safe.

Three simple words that made everything—my mother’s coldness, her too-perceptive observations, the constant hiding—feel worth it.Then I thought about the other three words I was hung up on, and my pulse ticked up.

Would I really be able to work up the courage to tell Mason how I felt about him?

ChapterSixteen

Mason

Beau tasted like the coffee he’d had twenty minutes ago.I was still on my knees, lips swollen, and my heart hammering against my ribs as I got to my feet.Beau leaned against the shelving unit behind him, his chest heaving, with a goofy grin splitting his face.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, reaching for me.“You’re going to kill me.”

I stood up, grinned, and pulled him in for a kiss.“That’s the plan.”

“Best plan ever.”He kissed me again, slower this time, and I felt that warm, fuzzy, impossibly horny feeling spread through my chest.The one that made me want to drag him back to my place and spend the rest of the day in bed instead of giving him a quick blowjob in the supply closet.

Then footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.

We both froze.