The Mason Dixon Line (A Horizons Novel) (8 page)

“You going for a walk?” Mason looked up
from the table where he hunched over another chameleon drawing.

“I need some fresh air.”

She threw on a heavy cardigan. She needed
layers. The March woods were damp and cold without them.

It had been two days since their scorching
interlude in Mason’s car. They hadn’t even discussed it after his apology on
the porch. She’d thought they’d be able to put it behind them easily, but it
hadn’t worked out that way. Working together was surprisingly easy. He worked
hard on the illustrations and had thoughtful comments on the text. She
suggested drawings that would complement her words. Simple.

Everything else, though, was complicated.

They had work to do, but that didn’t mean
she could stop herself from watching the way he held a pencil and remembering
how his hand had felt against the skin of her belly, imagining how it would
feel on her breast, or lower. He’d caught her staring once, but he hadn’t said
anything. Was he that clueless, or did he simply not care?

He’d let his eyes drop back to his sketch
paper, and after a moment, his drawing had resumed.

“I’ll come with you.” He rose and pulled on
his trench coat. He shrugged it on with a gesture that made his shoulders flex
and bam, just like that, tension gathered in her stomach.

Great. Now instead of getting some time
alone in the fresh air to breathe, she was getting a chance to make more
awkward conversation with the object of her unwelcome fascination.

“Come on. There’s a trail that goes up to
that ridge. We can get a good view of the creek from there.”

He strode off and she was left to trudge
after him.

He didn’t
have casual sex.

What did that even mean, in guy terms? He
had to know the girl’s name first? He had to buy her dinner? He was saving
himself for marriage? Maybe he had to wear a top hat and tails.

Could he be a virgin?

Oh my God. Had she almost deflowered him?
The realization left an awful taste in her mouth.

She wasn’t ashamed of her sexual past—okay,
that night last year with the 20-year-old skateboarder hadn’t been her finest
hour, but she wasn’t
ashamed
of it—but
how could she get with a guy who had that much less experience than her? She’d
feel like a slut, constantly.

More than she did now.

Halfway up the ridge, she slowed to brace
her hands on her knees.

He charged on, a man on a mission. “Hey!”
she yelled. “Wait for me.”

He stopped and turned to look. “Oh, sorry.
Didn’t notice you had fallen behind.”

He did that a lot, not noticing. True to
form, after she brought it to his attention, he stopped and waited for her,
taking her hand once to help her over an eroded spot in the trail where the
other night’s rains had washed it away.

He let go as soon as she’d cleared the gap.

“What’s with you?” She could barely get the
words out between gasps. “You’re like a mountain goat. It’s not fair. You’re an
artist. I thought you’d be a couch potato.”

He shook his head. “I’m too hyper to sit
behind a desk all day. At home, when I’m not drawing, I run, or swim. Lift
weights in my condo’s gym. I ride my bike along Lakeshore Drive a lot in the
summer.”

“I wish I lived in Chicago. The shopping is
fabulous.”

He laughed at her.

“You sound so wistful. Missing the mall,
are you? Or no, what is it? The Home Retail Channel?”

“Oh, I suppose I shouldn’t have said that."
She shot him a sidelong glance. "You’re already convinced I’m a shallow
twit, right?”

He cleared his throat. “I might have been a
little bit hard on you about that. Sorry.”

Her gaze flew to his. “No big deal. You
wouldn’t be the first to think that.” She pulled away and plowed ahead, forcing
him to speed up to keep up with her.

“So, how did you end up in teaching?”

“You mean besides my desire to spend my
life crushing young spirits?” She probably shouldn’t bring it up again, but he
was fun to tease.

“Oh, come on! I wasn’t quite that harsh.”
He cleared his throat. “I still don’t like the educational system, but I accept
that you’re basically a good person.”

“In an evil system,” she prodded.

“I never said evil! Just inflexible.
Unimaginative. Prone to conformity.”

Hmmm. Well, he had a bit of a point there.
Schools thrived on structure and routine. Then again, so did many kids with
special needs. She decided to let that point ride for a bit. They were actually
getting along okay and she had no interest in rocking the boat.

“So what did you do before you became an
aide at Horizons?”

“Hmmm, let’s see. I was an aspiring chef
and a would-be web designer. That’s not counting the year as a pharmacy major
and a semester in massage school.” She ticked each one off on her fingers. “And
then there was the six months in bartender school. That was my low point. I’ve
sworn off college now. Obviously I don’t need to waste any more money until I
can figure out what the hell to do with my life. If I ever do, which is
doubtful.”

“Wow.” He looked surprised. “You sound less
focused than me, and that’s saying something. What made you decide to quit
school and work at Horizons?”

“Necessity. My dad didn’t mind footing the
bill for school for a long time, but when I dropped out of bartender school, he
decided enough was enough. He told me to get a job on my own or come work for
him at the family business.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her
cardigan.

“Which was?”

“A chain of car dealerships.” She wrinkled
her nose. “It’s not for me.”

“Car dealerships? In Indy? Wait, Hart
Toyota?”

“That’s the one,” she said, heart sinking.
She knew what was coming.

Mason’s eyes lit. “Your dad’s the one with
those crazy commercials where he dresses up like a hobo? With the beaten-up old
coat and smudges of dirt on his face? What’s he say again?”

“‘Have a heart! Buy from Hart, ’cause old
Pete needs the money.’“ She winced. Those commercials had been the bane of her
existence as a teenager. Mason, on the other hand, looked fascinated.

“That is awesome.”

“Oh,
please
.
You have no idea how much crap I took from the other kids in high school about
those. He had a lot of fun with it, though. He wanted me to come work for the
family business when I dropped out of college for good, but I couldn’t imagine
anything I’d less rather do.”

“Me neither, unless it was teaching.”

She made a face. “Oh, what? Grinding the
souls of young children under your heel doesn’t strike you as exciting?”

“Right. I was unbelievably glad to get out
of school. The last thing I’d ever do is go back.”

“Counting the days until graduation, were
you?”

“Hardly. I dropped out when I was sixteen.”

Carolyn stopped in her tracks. “You don’t
have your diploma?”

“Yeah, I do, but only thanks to my aunt. I
got in trouble all the time and quit school. My parents gave up on me at that
point and sent me to live with my aunt. She’d inherited a lot of money from her
late husband. I guess they thought money would fix me somehow.” A dry laugh
escaped him, but his eyes were flat. “Who am I kidding? They didn’t think that
far ahead. They were tired of trying to solve a problem they couldn’t fix, so
they decided to let someone else worry about it for a while. Whether or not my
aunt could actually do anything with me was the last thing on their minds.”

“That’s rough.” She leaned on her parents
too much for a woman her age, she knew that, but partly it was because they’d
always been there. Rock-solid and dependable, not to mention hyper-involved and
a little overbearing. Still, they cared. She couldn’t imagine growing up
without that security. “Do you still keep in touch with them?”

“No. Last I heard, they’d bought a van and
were driving across the Trans-Canada Highway. Good riddance. As far as I’m
concerned, my Aunt Marjorie is the only family I’ve got.”

A harsh attitude, but she couldn’t fault
him for it. His parents had abandoned their teenage kid. He was entitled to a
few hard feelings.

“You said you got a diploma thanks to her?”

“She worked with me, found a way of working
around my disabilities. She hired a tutor for the stuff she couldn’t handle. Reading
was easier when someone took the trouble to find books I liked. She tied
everything back to drawing somehow, even math. Passing the GED was no trouble
after she’d worked with me a couple of years.”

“That hyperfocus again.” People with ADHD could
focus intently when they worked on something that interested them, the way
drawing preoccupied Mason. “At Horizons, we tailor the program to the student.
We’re flexible.”

“I’m sure you
try
to be flexible.” He still sounded unconvinced. “You’re an
advocate for the school, no doubt. Maybe you’ve found what you were destined to
do after all.”

“I doubt that. I can’t support myself on an
aide’s salary, or even a teacher’s salary, probably. Champagne tastes on a beer
budget, as they say.”

“There’s more to life than money.”

“Tell that to my Visa bill.”

He laughed. They’d reached the top of the
ridge now. The bare trees afforded a clear view of the stream below, twisting
and turning through its rocky path. The forest was all brown and gray at this
time of the year: bare trees, a carpet of last fall’s dead leaves, and a
charcoal sky underpinned with low clouds.

“So how did you end up at Horizons?”

“Because of Kayla. She and I met in
college.”

“Which one?”

She made a face. “Very funny. My semester
of pharmacy school. We stayed in touch, and a couple of years ago, she told me
she needed a teacher’s aide. I didn’t have any experience, but it was part-time
at first and she vouched for me.”

“And you liked it?”

“Yeah, I did. I do.” She watched a dark bird
drink from the creek. “Sometimes I wish I could stay forever.”

“Why don’t you? You seem to have a passion
for it.”

She looked at him. “You think so?” That
surprised her. She thought of herself as passionate about shoes and MAC
make-up, not her job.

“Of course I do. Just think how fired up
you get every time I criticize teaching.”

She rolled her eyes. “I get annoyed with
you because you don’t know what you’re talking about. I do love the kids though.
Dr. Dunne, on the other hand.”

“What’s with that guy?”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s obsessed with
fundraising, which is normal enough, I guess. The school needs money and it’s
his job to help raise it. But God, he’s such a suck-up, it drives me crazy. His
first priority ought to be the kids, you know?”

She stood lost in thought for a moment,
remembering how Dr. Dunne had taken Mrs. Fane’s side rather than listening to
Jacob’s teachers. The Fanes had donated $5,000 to the school last year, besides
paying full tuition. That probably had nothing to do with Dr. Dunne’s
solicitude, though. Right?

Yeah, sure.

She caught Mason staring at her. “What?”
Her hand flew to her hair. After a hike up the ridge, it was probably a mess. “Is
it my hair?”

“No.” He shook his head, eyes warm. “Your
hair looks beautiful.”

“I need a touch-up to my roots,” she said,
and then clamped her lips shut, determined not to babble.

“I like your roots. I like your hair.”

And I like
you
. For some
odd reason, she could almost hear the words that he didn’t speak. But he’d been
thinking them, she knew that for sure.

“Thanks.” She toyed uselessly with her hair
for a second and then made herself lower her hand. “If you’re not gawking at my
roots, what are you looking at, then?”

“You. For a person who says you have no
particular passion for teaching, you seem to get very emotional about it.”

She shrugged. “That doesn’t mean anything,
other than I like my kids. It’s hard not to, you know? They’re some great kids.
That doesn’t mean I’m cut out to do this for the rest of my life. I can’t
afford it, unless I marry a rich man.”

She meant the last as a joke, at least
halfway, but Mason didn’t laugh.

“Would you really do that? Marry a guy for
money?”

“My sister did.” And Gwen had never stopped
lording it over her, flaunting her jewels and designer clothes, all the while
making it clear that she lived debt-free and didn’t have to work.

Wench.

“I need to get a real job,” Carolyn said. “And
bonus, if I do, maybe my family will stop treating me like I’m some kind of a loser.”