The Space Beyond (The Book of Phoenix) (18 page)

“I guess this will do,” I said when Mason stood in the door.

I watched his face carefully, keeping my own straight. His eyes tightened in the slightest way before he set my bag down on a chair that appeared to belong with the dining room set.

“Do you need to freshen up?” he asked, his voice hesitant.

I couldn’t help the burst of laughter. He’d been acting so gentlemanly and now this?

He smiled. “I mean before we go out.”

“Oh.” Why was he acting so weird? So formal and uptight?

I kicked off my shoes and moved backward on the bed. His eyes never left me. I leaned forward onto my knees and hands. He still stared, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What if I said I’m ready for bed?” I asked.

“I’d say you’re lame,” he replied. “And a liar.”

I pursed my lips together, trying not to smile. “What if I mean I’m ready to
play
in bed?” His eyes grew the size of sliced pickles, the reaction I wanted. I sprang to my feet and jumped on the bed. “Like this.”

He watched me jump a few times, open and closed his mouth, and blew out a breath. Then without warning, he lunged for me. I leapt out of his way, laughing hysterically and still jumping. He reached again, and I hopped back. He threw one of the pillows at me, and I caught it. With a devious look in his eyes, he grabbed the other pillow and jumped to his feet. We both swung at the same time, and we both ducked simultaneously, too, dodging the hits. I swung again and the momentum of the pillow took me down with it. Mason’s pillow hit me on the ass, knocking me over. I grabbed for his legs and pulled him down with me. We both crashed to the mattress, unable to breathe through the fits of laughter.

Panting, I tried to roll to my back under Mason’s weight. He shifted just enough so I could, and when I landed, I stared straight up into those mesmerizing, silvery-green eyes. He braced himself on his elbows over me, his gaze sliding over my face until it reached my lips, where it once again became stuck.

“Do you really want to go out again?” I asked, my voice low and hoarse from the squeals and laughter.

His eyes came back up to mine. “Only if you want to. I didn’t want you to think I only wanted you to come here because I expected something.”

“Mason,” I said, quietly but firmly. He ceased all movement, even his breathing, as he stared down into my eyes. “I
am
expecting something. In fact, I’m expecting quite a lot.”

He studied me for a moment, then a slow smile stretched across his face. “A lot, huh?”

He ducked down and swept his lips over mine.

“A. Lot.” I confirmed.

“Is that a challenge?”

“Are you up for it?”

He didn’t answer me with words, but with actions. Lots of actions. On my lips, my chin, my neck, my collarbone, and everywhere further south. He kissed me, caressed me, stroked me, and performed all kinds of beautiful acts until he left me screaming and panting his name at the same time, my hands clawing into the bed. And then he hovered over me, tribal tattoos on his bare chest and a savage look in his eye, right before he thrust into me and had me screaming all over again until we climaxed together. He collapsed on top of me, still shuddering.

“Did that meet your expectations?” he asked after a few minutes, when both of us were able to breathe again. He shifted to the side of me, removing his full weight from my body, but leaving his arm draped across my chest.

“Mmm … it was good,” I said, running my fingernails lightly over his back.

He lifted his head to look at me, his eyes glazed and the corners of his mouth turned up. “It was more than good. Admit it.”

My eyes rolled up to the ceiling as I pretended to consider this. His hand slid down my side, over my hip and across my thigh until his fingers tickled my center. I was still so sensitive, my pelvis jumped at the light touch.

“Okay, okay, it met my expectations.”

“Only met?” He tickled me again.

My muscles clenched. “You keep that up, and I’ll be expecting more. Right now.”

I lifted his hand with my own and returned it to my stomach.

“Because it was so good,” he said lazily. “Say it. Say I far exceeded your expectations.”

I giggled, but when I looked back into his eyes, I couldn’t be sure if he was teasing or not.

“You have no clue just how far you exceeded them,” I said. He gave me an approving smile. “But … that only means I’ll be expecting more. Very soon.”

His grin grew. “You can count on it.”

He dropped his head next to me, and the weight of his arm grew heavier.

“Mason,” I said, “you do know I have no desire to sleep in here, right?”

“Thank God,” he muttered, but he didn’t move. Not for a while anyway. We both lay on the guest bed, still on top of the covers, Mason dozing while I stared at the ceiling. For the first time ever, I didn’t feel guilty about what just happened. Every other time, no matter who I was with or how good it was or how long we’d been together, something about it felt wrong. Or if not exactly wrong, at least neutral. No feeling at all. But this … with Mason … this felt right. Extremely right.

That’s when I began to seriously consider he was The One.

After his little catnap, he carried me into his room. Still no belongings out, no photos, no personalization at all. A nice, neat, clean place to lay his head was all it was. By the time we were done, though, the room looked as though a tornado hit with blankets and pillows everywhere. We rolled up in a sheet and passed out from sheer exhaustion.

I awoke to the fragrance of bacon cooking, and my mouth watered immediately. My stomach growled. I’d been too anxious to eat much of the bar-food appetizers last night, my insides twisted in knots while we were with Mason’s friends, and I’d certainly burnt all those calories after we came home. When I sat up, I gasped at how clean his room was already. He’d even properly arranged me in the bed where I belonged, rather than the upside-down, diagonal position we’d slept in. My bag sat on a chair identical to the one in the guest room. After a quick brush of my teeth and pat down of my hair, I threw on the pajama shorts and tank I’d brought and walked out to the kitchen. The clock showed 7:45. I had a couple of hours before I had to leave to get back to the office.

“I didn’t think you actually cooked here,” I said as I hopped up onto the counter. Mason gave me a strange look. Well, more specifically, he gave my ass on his counter a look, probably because a little café table sat in front of the kitchen window, but I wanted to be here, right next to him. He made no complaint, though, and handed me a cup of coffee.

“That’s part of my plan,” he said. “If I didn’t like you, I could have easily sent you on your way, and you wouldn’t have thought twice about no breakfast.”

“So since you’re cooking for me, that means you like me?” I asked as I watched him over my coffee cup.

His head turned to face me, and he leveled me with those stunning eyes. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to them. “I more than like you, beautiful Bex. If it were up to me, I’d be cooking you breakfast every morning.”

My heart stuttered. What was he getting at with that kind of statement? His cell phone rang at that precise moment. He glanced at the screen, then snatched it up. He’d barely left the kitchen when he jogged back in again.

“On my way,” he said, and he dropped the phone on the counter while reaching for the spatula. “Emergency. I need to go. Can you finish up here?”

Already turning for the doorway, he swung the spatula toward me, but it hit the carton of eggs. The whole kit-and-kaboodle tumbled to the floor with a bunch of splats as the eggshells broke. A great, gooey mess spread across the shiny white tiles.

“Son of a bitch, mother fucking bastards!” he barked, loud enough to make me cringe. “God damn it!”

I stared at him for a moment, shocked, and then jumped down from the counter, careful to avoid the smashed eggs. My heart pounding from the outburst, I pressed my hands on his chest. “Go. I got this. Don’t worry about it.”

“
Shit
. I’m sorry.” He sighed.

“I said don’t worry about it. Go on. You have an emergency, remember?”

He glanced at the mess on the floor. “You don’t mind?”

“No. Now go.” I shoved him out of the kitchen.

He was dressed in scrubs in two minutes and flying out the door. I mopped up the eggs, finished the bacon and made myself some toast to go with it. Then I cleaned the kitchen up before heading to the guest room. I figured I should toss the bedspread in the wash, but when I opened the door, he already had that room cleaned to perfection, too.

“Bit of a neat freak,” I muttered as I padded back to his room.

Once I was dressed and had my bag on my shoulder, I stood in the entranceway by the kitchen, unsure of what to do. He lived in a nice area, but I’d noticed last night that he’d had both the doorknob and the bolt locks fastened. I sent him a text, although I didn’t expect an answer. As I was about to walk out, planning to lock only the knob from the inside, I received a text back:

“Spare key in the junk drawer. I want you to have it.”

I opened a few drawers and found what I assumed to be the junk drawer, but I couldn’t help but laugh. If there was any junk in it, it was hidden between the orderly rows of containers holding rubber bands, batteries, pens, and other small items. Even his junk drawer was perfectly organized.

As I left, I wondered how he could stand to stay in my trailer the few days he had. I figured it was because he was a doctor that he kept things, even his home, practically sterile.

“I miss you,” Mason texted a few hours later, although I didn’t see it until I locked up the park office at precisely six o’clock. “Come back.”

An hour after that text, had come another: “I found a piece of eggshell on the floor.”

I didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. Some kind of euphemism?

“Oh. Oops,” I texted back as I walked home. My phone rang almost immediately.

“Oops?” Mason asked.

“Oops about the eggshell.”

“That’s all you can say?” His voice did not sound at all like he missed me. More like a father’s to a misbehaving child. “You promised you’d clean it all up.”

“Hey, you knocked it over. The whole damn carton. Sorry if I missed a piece. Anal much? And is this really what you’ve been thinking about my visit?”

Silence came from the other end, then a sigh. “I’m sorry. Yeah, I can be anal. Raw eggs can contain salmonella, and being a doctor makes me a little germaphobic.”

I opened my front door. “Well, I’m not a doctor but I have been working at a diner since I was fourteen, and I know all about food safety. I’m sorry if I missed a piece on that white tile of yours, but I can guarantee it was bleached with the rest of the floor.”

“Bex, I’m sorry for snapping at you. It’s been a long day and not a good one.”

“Your emergency?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t look good.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I wish I could make you feel better.”

“Come back.”

I chuckled as I sat on the couch in front of the window and looked at the sky turning peach and pink. “I wish I could. But I gotta work again tomorrow, and I’m not about to become a two-hour commuter.”

“I miss you,” he said. “I miss those plump, sweet lips of yours.”

We talked for a good long while until both of our batteries were dying, and even then, it was hard to hang up.

“
Please
come see me. I’ll pay for your gas,” he said the next day, and I had to give in. I’d barely been able to concentrate on work because I’d been thinking about him all day.

For the next few weeks, I drove down to see him every couple of days, stopping in to see Mama and Sissy only about half the times, though, because I didn’t want them knowing exactly how often I was making the trip. It was irresponsible, but I didn’t care. I had way too many responsibilities for my age, and if I wanted to be a little carefree, I would.

A couple of times a week became every time I didn’t have to work at Sullivan’s, which was becoming more frequent. Although the locals were drinking as heavy as ever, business from the truckers was slacking off. They seemed to be avoiding the truck stop all together. Elizabeth blamed it on the dark cloud hanging over the area, although I didn’t see it. Sunny skies as always for this time of year. Leni offered to give up a few of her shifts, saying she didn’t need them, but I didn’t want her to lose her job. Ever since the K-bomb, she and I had become closer, and she was about the only thing that made working at Sullivan’s worth it. The locals didn’t exactly tip well.

“Move in with me,” Mason said one morning before I had to make the drive home.

“What about my jobs?”

“Screw them. Get a job here. You could work one job here and make more money than you do at all three in Lake Haven. And you don’t have to pay rent or utilities or anything. Not even food.”

“Mason, I can’t live off of you.”

“Why not? I
want
you to.”

I sighed. The offer was seriously tempting. The more time I spent in Orlando, the more I realized that I could be making tons more money there. Plus, it’d save a bunch of time and gas, and I’d be a lot closer to Sissy and Mama, who’d made little improvement.

But move in with Dr. Mason Hayes?

I really liked him, maybe even loved him, but I just wasn’t sure if I was ready to make that leap. Especially those mornings when I’d awake from a haunting dream of a man calling for me. He had eyes kind of like Mason’s, but they seemed lighter in my dream. More like gray than green. And his voice was even sexier, but sad, almost desperate sounding, to the point where I couldn’t understand what he said. But I somehow knew he called for me, troubling me the entire day after.

“Move in with me, Bex,” Mason said again a week after the first time. “You know you want to. You know it makes total sense. And …” He paused for a moment before gushing, “And I love you. I want to be with you every day. I want to wake up to your precious face every morning and hold you in my arms every night as I fall asleep. I love you, Bex.”

Oh, shit. That was my undoing. I couldn’t help but say the words back.

“So you’ll move in with me?”

“Let me think about it,” I said.

I didn’t have to think about it long. When Memaw’s burnt down from a grease fire, I was pretty much screwed here anyway. I felt horrible for Elizabeth and Aunt Faye and wished there was something I could do for them, but they decided to keep the insurance money instead of rebuilding, leaving me high and dry … and on my way to Orlando.

Once the decision was made, my heart did a strange little leap. I could only reckon that meant I was doing the right thing. That I belonged with Dr. Mason Hayes. That he was The One.