Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 42306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 169(@250wpm)___ 141(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 212(@200wpm)___ 169(@250wpm)___ 141(@300wpm)
It’s only when someone clears their throat from behind me that we jump apart. Still wrapped up in Mason’s arms, I swing around to find Dad and Anne standing in the living room. My father raises a brow and Mason pulls me even closer, as if he’s afraid they might try to steal me away.
“Dad,” I say nervously. I’ve introduced a number of guys to my family, but none of them have mattered the way Mason does. Even though this relationship is new, I need them to be okay with it.
“Is there something you’d like to tell us?” Dad asks, a serious expression marring his face.
I straighten my shoulders and inch my chin upward before digging deep to find my courage. “Mason and I have been seeing each other.”
Dad glances at his assistant coach. “Can I assume this is the guy you broke up with because the situation was,” he raises his fingers before making air quotes, “complicated.”
My gaze flickers to Anne.
“Sorry, sweetie. He was worried about you.”
I huff out a breath. Maybe I should be mad at her for sharing our private conversation with my father, but I’m not. Above all else, I know she had my best interests in mind.
“Yes, it is.”
He cocks his head. “What exactly made it complicated?”
I blink.
That’s not the question I was expecting.
“Well…Mason is seven years older than me.” There’s a pause before I tack on, “He’s also your assistant coach.”
“Both of those things are certainly true,” Dad says carefully.
“And I didn’t want him to get fired.”
“Fired?” His eyes widen as his brows snap together. “Why would anyone fire Mason?”
“I—”
Both his voice and expression soften. “You have to know I’d never do that, honey. Mason is a great coach, just like I knew he would be. And if I have my way, he’ll take over the Clairemont program at some point in the future.”
“Really?” My mouth falls open, and it takes a second or two for my brain to start working again. “So…you don’t mind if we date?”
“Mason is a good man.” He smirks at the younger guy who continues to stand with his arms wrapped protectively around my body. “You could do a hell of a lot worse than him.”
The rush of relief that whips through me is enough to weaken my knees.
Now that we’re all on the same page, Anne takes hold of my father’s hand. “How about you start the grill and these two can talk in private.” She glances at Mason. “I assume you’ll be staying for dinner?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then I’ll set the table for four,” she says with a smile before they walk out of the room holding hands.
Once we’re alone again, I turn in Mason’s arms until I can meet his dark gaze.
“I’ve missed you this past week,” I admit, looping my arms around his neck and pressing close. Why does everything feel so much better when we’re together?
His lips brush mine. “I missed you, too. I wish you would have just talked to me about your concerns and how you were feeling. We could have avoided all of this.”
That was my mistake. I allowed Levi to get inside my head. Even though it’s tempting to tell him what happened and explain the full story, I keep it to myself. There’s no point in stirring up hard feelings when it’s his job to work with the QB.
“You’re right, I should have been honest. I’m sorry.”
He nips at my lip, tugging it with his teeth as our gazes cling. “Just as long as you’re mine now.”
“I am, Mason. I’m yours.”
Epilogue
Mason
Two years later…
* * *
My head is stuck under the hood of a cherry red 1967 Dodge Charger. She’s a real beauty.
Even though I’ve been coaching for a couple of years now, I still enjoy getting my hands dirty when time allows, which isn’t often, but I enjoy working on American muscle. It’s what I specialize in as a side hustle. When we’re in the middle of the season, time is limited, and I’ll only take on one vehicle a month.
It keeps me busy and out of trouble.
From beneath the hood, I hear her footsteps over the alt rock that plays in the background and fills the cavernous space.
“Hey, babe,” I call out, always happy when she wanders out to the pole barn to keep me company.
“Hey, yourself.”
The fridge door opens before closing again. “I thought you could use a beer. You’ve been out here working for a couple hours.”
I straighten to my full height and stretch my aching muscles. “Thanks. Seems about that time, doesn’t it?”
“Sure does.”
My eyes eat her up as she closes the distance between us. She’s barefoot and wearing another flirty sundress that does amazing things for her lush curves. When there’s no more than a foot or so to separate us, she hands over the bottle.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—there’s something sexy about a barefoot woman wearing a sundress.