Damn Mr. Smooth!
“I guess I can hang out for a bit,” I allowed. Lily wouldn’t want to leave yet, and it was either that or hide in the bathroom again.
“So thrilled.” He chuckled at my skeptical response. “Come on.” He gestured toward double doors that led to a patio.
“Wait, aren’t we going back downstairs?” I replied nervously, looking around the massive bedroom that must be the master.
“Why? It’s quieter up here.” He shrugged.
“I just… I don’t know you.” I shook my head. Previous experience had taught me to be cautious, and being alone with a stranger in a bedroom countered any lesson I’d learned the hard way.
His brows lifted in surprise before his expression warmed. “You don’t trust me,” he stated.
“I don’t know you,” I corrected, baffled that he’d sound surprised.
“Smart,” he murmured in approval. “Tell you what, we’ll sit outside.” He indicated to the patio. “I’ll keep my hands to myself, but if you’re uncomfortable at any point, anyone at the party is in hearing range. Okay?”
His thoughtful effort to assure me had me stepping further into the room.
“Okay.” I nodded. “But…” I bit my lip, looking around the room again. “Is it okay that we’re up here? I don’t want to be rude.”
He got that warm look again. “It’s fine,” he assured me confidently, striding toward the double glass doors and pulling them open. He flicked on the heat lamp that stood off to the right and folded his massive body into a chair. “Beer?” he offered, opening a small fridge I hadn’t noticed.
“Well, you could just live out here,” I muttered to myself, sitting in the chair beside him and nodding at his offer of beer.
“I’m Mason,” he introduced, leaning over with an outstretched hand.
“Ellie.” I took his hand, which completely engulfed mine. “What were you reading?” I asked as the revelry from the party drifted up from below.
“Ender’s Game. I’m on a bit of a sci-fi kick right now,” he replied.
“I love sci-fi,” I agreed.
“Really?” He sounded skeptical.
“Sure, The Dune Chronicles are my favorite. Have you read them?” I asked.
His brows rose in surprise. “Yeah, I loved those too.”
“Girls can’t like sci-fi? Don’t sound so surprised,” I admonished as I sipped my beer.
“You’re full of surprises, Ellie.” He smiled, clinking his bottle with mine.
“I’m actually really boring,” I admitted with a sigh.
“I doubt that,” he countered, his gaze turned to me as I stared out into the dark night beyond.
“I am,” I assured him. “I only came tonight because my best friend practically dragged me. But she’s been a really good friend to me. I can handle being a wingwoman for her now and then.”
“I’d imagine you’re a bit like shark bait as a wingwoman,” he surmised dryly.
“Shark bait?” I asked, confused.
“A gorgeous woman? Alone? Shark bait.” He shrugged. “Like the guy earlier.” He cocked his head to the door.
“Shark bait is defenseless. I am not,” I answered fiercely, taking offense to his comment.
“Shit, sorry,” he apologized, running a large hand over his buzz cut. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant what with all the unwanted attention you must get, it makes it that much more of a nice gesture for you to do that for your friend.” His words came out in an endearing rush.
“That’s a much better way of saying it.” I nodded with a laugh.
“Am I forgiven?”
“I suppose.” I smiled.
“So, completely-not-defenseless Ellie, are you from Colorado?” he asked.
“No, Iowa,” I replied. “I moved here for school. Lily and I were roommates in college.”
“And your family’s still back in Iowa?” At my nod, he continued, “How did they feel about you moving out here?”
“Not great,” I admitted ruefully.
Especially after what happened soon after I moved, I thought with an inner cringe.
“They’re small-town people,” I explained, brushing away dark memories that threatened to surface without warning. “They have a gorgeous farm.” I smiled fondly, choosing to focus on happy ones instead. “My dad had me and my brother on horses before we could walk. The mountains here are spectacular, and I love how diverse it is. But I find myself missing the plains of Iowa. Everything is so golden, so… warm,” I tried to explain.
“But you didn’t stay,” he stated, studying me so intently that I fought the urge to squirm. His eyes were so full of expression as he gave me every ounce of his attention.
I shook my head. “I’d always wanted to study art. I loved the farm, but I didn’t want it to be my life. I wanted to see more of the world. So I traveled for a year before starting at University of Denver. What about you? Where are you from?” I asked, sipping my beer and looking over at him in the dim light. Now that I was growing more comfortable in his presence, I could truly appreciate how handsome he was.
“I’m from a small town too. Hawthorne, Nevada. I can relate to being homesick,” he explained. “I was back home for my sister’s wedding not long ago. Already miss my mom’s cooking.” He patted what I was sure was a ripped stomach, if the way his T-shirt stretched over his muscular biceps and shoulders was any indication.
I softened that much more at the fact that he was clearly close to his family. “How many siblings do you have?”
“Three. Two brothers and my sister, all older.”
“Aw, the baby of the family.” I grinned.
“That may be, but I’m also the biggest.” He winked. “So, did you manage to get a job with that art degree?” he asked, changing the subject.
I shot him a look, and he immediately looked contrite. “Shit, sorry, I seem to have a bad case of foot-in-mouth syndrome with you.”
I laughed. “It’s okay. There is a reason why we’re called starving artists,” I replied dryly. “And, not really,” I admitted, answering his question. “I work at an ad agency downtown to pay the bills. I paint in my free time. It’s fine,” I added.
And most of the time, it was.
“What do you do for work?” I asked as a female giggle that sounded very much like Lily traveled up from down below.
“It’s boring,” he answered evasively.
Or embarrassing, I thought sympathetically, not wanting to push him on the subject.
“So, so far I’ve got that you’re an artist who moved away from home, loves sci-fi…, oh, and you’re devastatingly beautiful. But you’re boring,” he hastened to add with a teasing grin.
I blushed, and for the first time in as long as I could remember, the compliment made me feel warm rather than fearful.
“I just don’t go out much,” I admitted, feeling shy. “I like to be alone. Lily is always accusing me of being a hermit,” I added, picking at the label of my beer.
His hand reached out and grasped mine, his skin warm and reassuring. “That’s not boring,” he argued.