Page 3 of The Ruse of Romancing
Mason
Cascade Harbor, Oregon
The grocery store doors opened with a whoosh as I glanced down at the list in my hand.
It included an odd assortment of items, all things my grandparents insisted I needed to purchase for the rental half of the duplex I lived in and managed for them.
While the last-minute shopping trip wasn’t how I’d originally planned to spend my Saturday morning, it was a small price to pay for living on the Oregon coast rent free.
My grandparents had purchased the duplex as an investment property years ago and, when they were no longer able to keep up with the maintenance, I was more than happy to help in exchange for a place to live, even if it meant running random errands on the weekend and getting weekly comments from my grandma about how much she disliked both my beard and my long hair.
I’d thankfully convinced her not to repeat the same renovations on my side of the duplex. The colors would have most definitely interfered with my creative process as an artist and graphic designer.
I pictured trying to work on my commissions in a pea-green room and shuddered. I was quite happy with my clean white walls and furniture that hadn’t been pre-owned by at least five people before me.
I grabbed a cart and started my trip up and down the grocery aisles, snagging instant coffee and bargain-brand bottles of shampoo and conditioner.
Just because my grandparents had added it to the list, didn’t mean I had to purchase top of the line products.
The duplex looked like it was a time capsule from the fifties, no reason for it to have fancy coffee or shampoo bottles that cost as much as a tank of gas.
Though I made sure to grab the shampoo that did not smell like vanilla. I’d had my fill of female tourists who smelled like vanilla to last a lifetime. Strawberry was a nice, safe aroma. Strawberry didn’t spell trouble and heartbreak.
“Mason, I thought that was you.” A cheery female voice called as I started making my way to the checkout line.
I looked up to find the local baker and my favorite person in the entire coastal town waving at me from the pharmacy area.
Joane had the physique of someone who enjoyed her own baking, meaning she gave the best hugs of anyone I knew, with the exception of my own mother, who lived several states away in Utah.
Add to that the hint of mischief that always lurked behind Joane’s glasses, and exchanges with her were guaranteed to be entertaining, making them some of my favorite conversations when I was in town.
“Joane! How is the prettiest lady in all of Cascade Harbor?” I asked, giving her my biggest grin as I pushed my cart over to her so we could chat more easily.
Joane blushed as she reached up to smooth back some gray hairs that had escaped from her ponytail before returning her hand to her cart.
“Oh, you flirt! Don’t think I don’t know just how you use that smile, sir.
You could weaponize that thing.” She swatted my arm, but there was no sting in the motion. It was more an affectionate pat.
“This smile,” I smiled wider and stroked my chin, the soft yet slightly coarse feel of my beard reminding me I’d skipped my bi-weekly barber visit last week and needed to stop in tomorrow morning.
It was probably time to trim my hair as well, touch-up the ends so my grandma couldn’t claim it was getting unruly and unkempt.
“How do I use this smile? If you ask my mother or grandmother, it’s too deeply buried behind stubble to be visible. ”
While I kept my beard well-groomed, my mom was convinced any facial hair was too much. She regularly lectured both me and my brother Grey on our need to shave.
“The long list of leggy blondes, brunettes, and redheads I’ve seen you chatting up at the beach tells me exactly how you use that smile. And if Spencer is to be believed,” she raised an eyebrow at this, “those interactions don’t stay exclusive to the beach.”
“Now Joane, a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” I said. I was going to have to have a chat with my best friend about not sharing all details from my personal life with his mother.
“Who said you were a gentleman?”
I placed a hand on my chest in mock outrage. “Are you saying I’m not a gentleman?”
“We both know the answer to that question,” Joane said, pushing her cart a couple of steps away before turning to add, “but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re my favorite customer.
Make sure to stop by the bakery this afternoon.
I’m trying a new white chocolate cranberry sourdough recipe, and I need your feedback. ”
“Joane, you’re killing my physique,” I called to her retreating back with a chuckle. I was going to have to make a second trip to the gym today if I added a visit to Sugar and Sea Bakery to my plans.
Joane just waved at me over her shoulder, knowing full well I would be stopping by. No one said no to Joane’s baking, at least no one with functioning taste buds.
As I walked away, I tried to dismiss Joane’s comments about my not being a gentleman but her words continued to play on a loop in my mind.
Normally comments about my flirting ways didn’t bother me, but something had shifted lately, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it.
When I’d first moved to Cascade Harbor, I’d been young and na?ve, opening myself to heartbreak each time a tourist caught my eye.
That summer, I’d let one tourist too close.
I could still hear her laughter in my ears when I’d asked if we could stay in touch when she left and she’d told me about a boyfriend who was waiting back home, ready to propose the second she landed.
Now I kept exchanges with women casual, be they locals or tourists. And it worked for me, chasing away the loneliness that lurked around the corners of my life. Or at least, it had until the last few months, though I’m not sure what triggered the change.
Shaking my head, I pushed aside thoughts of relationships and loneliness from my mind, refusing to look too closely at my emotions, knowing they never led anywhere good.
I quickly finished my shopping, reaching the checkout line right behind three women in their early twenties who were laughing and gesturing animatedly as they talked about their plans for the day.
Their wardrobes were a combination of cutoff shorts and long-sleeved tops that hinted they’d come for the beach but knew Oregon beaches and California beaches were not the same thing.
One of them looked my way, her flashing smile contrasting with her dark skin and drawing attention to her dancing green eyes.
Her expression filled with interest as we made eye contact.
Joane was right about one thing, my skills weren’t limited to the beach. And this woman looked like the perfect distraction from thoughts of self-reflection and memories of women who smelled like vanilla and left my heart shattered in a million pieces.
“Hello, I couldn’t help overhearing, it sounds like you ladies could use a lunch recommendation.
” I gave them my biggest smile, grateful my hair was currently pulled back into a bun and that I was wearing one of my many flannel shirts that hugged my arms and chest. Women loved their lumberjack fantasies, and I was more than happy to provide it for them with my appearance.
As a bonus, my career meant I also had the sensitive, artist angle covered.
Women came to Cascade Harbor looking for an escape and distraction, two things I was more than happy to provide.
The woman who had made eye contact turned her full attention to me, cocking a hip and brushing her long black hair over her shoulder. “And you’re confident you have one that we’ll all enjoy?”
“Sugar and Sea Bakery has an amazing lunch offering. I’ve yet to meet someone who doesn’t enjoy it,” I said.
The least I could do was use my smile to send some business Joane’s way.
If I played my cards right, we both could benefit from this exchange in the checkout lane.
“Their sourdough sandwich bread is legendary.”
Just thinking of the thick slices of soft, tangy bread Joane used as the base for her sandwiches had my mouth watering.
“What if we need something with gluten-free and vegan options?” This came from one of the green-eyed woman’s friends, an Asian woman wearing cutoff overalls with a cardigan, whose voice carried a slight accent.
“Still Sugar and Sea Bakery. I haven’t tried their allergy-friendly menu, but Joane’s an expert in the kitchen.”
“I don’t know...” The woman who’d initially captured my attention trailed off, biting her lip and drawing my gaze to a mouth I wouldn’t mind getting to explore up close and personal with my own lips.
“We were planning to drive into Portland to try this restaurant with amazing potatoes that a friend recommended.”
“You’re going to drive two hours for potatoes when the world’s best sourdough is within walking distance?
” My voice held a note of incredulity, hopefully just enough to pique their interest without putting the trio on the defensive.
“If you don’t find something that instantly makes you fall in love with Joane’s food, lunch is on me.
” If I knew one thing, women loved confidence.
And if I could disguise a date invitation as a confidence flex, all the better.
“Is that so?” I could tell from her tone that I’d captured her attention.
Now to reel her and her friends in. That was the other lesson I’d learned living on the coast and flirting with the many tourists who chose to grace Cascade Harbor with their presence every summer: If I wanted to woo a woman, I had to win her friends over too.
“Absolutely. I was just headed over there myself. I’d be happy to show you the way if you don’t mind a local temporarily crashing your girls’ trip.
” I looked to her friends, knowing their buy-in would be essential if I was going to get beyond making a lunch recommendation.
“The bakery is right next to our local bookstore, which is definitely worth a visit.”
This snagged their attention, their eyes lighting at the mention of a bookstore. Books and bread, the perfect combination to capture a woman’s interest.
“I’m down for a free lunch. You know how picky I am about food.
” The third friend, this one a blonde with a nose-ring and pixie cut, chimed in.
“And I’ve been wanting to pick up a copy of that one romantasy book after Lynette raved about it at book club.
The title had something to do with pomegranates. ”
The other women nodded their agreement, chiming in with their desire to visit the bookstore, and one corner of my mouth tipped up in victory. I was one step closer to getting some one-on-one time with the green-eyed beauty.
“I’m Mason and it looks like I’m the luckiest guy in all of Cascade Harbor.” I offered a hand to the green-eyed member of the group and held on a moment longer than necessary when she accepted my handshake.
“I’m Veronica,” she said, her voice containing a husky quality as her hand lingered in mine.
My lopsided grin shifted into a full wattage smile, even as I missed her friends introducing themselves.
“Veronica, has anyone ever told you that you would make an excellent model? I could sketch you every day for a year and I’m still not sure I’d capture the fire in your eyes or the exact shape of your bone structure.”
The blonde rolled her eyes over Veronica’s shoulder, but I ignored her, channeling all of my charm into my exchange with her friend. I was laying it on a bit thick, but my instincts told me that was exactly the right move for Veronica.
“I haven’t heard that before,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder in a flirtatious flip. “Are you an artist or something?”
“Or something,” I said, reaching for some well-timed humility as I gave a small shrug and began unloading my groceries onto the conveyer belt as the cashier finished ringing up her group’s purchases.
“I’m a graphic designer. Though there’s still nothing like drawing a live model.
It brings a level of challenge I can never get enough of. ”
“Sounds interesting,” Veronica said, grabbing her bags and turning to leave the grocery store.
“I can tell you more about it over lunch,” I offered, stepping up to the card reader as the teenage cashier rang up my purchases.
“I’d like that.”
I resisted the urge to do a fist pump, instead appreciating the view as Veronica walked away with her friends. I’d have to thank my grandma for sending me on this last-minute grocery trip later. It looked like my Saturday plans had just taken a turn for the better.