The dishwasher that he was standing in front of. He didn’t step to the side when I moved in next to him and leaned up to get the plates. The side of my body brushed against his and a jolt shot through me. Damn hormones.
I put the plates on the kitchen island and he pointed to a drawer on the other side. “Cutlery is in there.”
I got the forks and knives out and placed them next to the plates.
I watched him expertly wield a spatula and whip up a delicious breakfast. He even buttered my toast before he put it on a plate with the eggs and bacon.
I could get used to this. The thought scared me back to reality and I asked, “Can you drive me back to Willa’s apartment after breakfast?”
“Not happening,” he said and went back to putting eggs on his own plate.
“What do you mean not happening? I don’t want to stay here. You don’t want me to stay here. The logical thing to do would be to drop me back home.”
“No.”
“No? That’s it?”
He didn’t answer, instead he handed me my plate and went to the couch and sat down.
“Give me one good reason why I should stay here.”
He looked up from drowning his bacon in maple syrup. “Is this about you showing me the goods earlier?”
I gasped. “You walked in on me. I didn’t willingly show you anything.”
He grinned and talked with a mouth full of food. “Then you should have locked the door. Or taken a shower like a normal person, instead of screaming like the tap was going to jump off the wall and kill you.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“That’s exactly what happened. Now shut up and eat your food. You look like you could use a few more pounds.”
“Did you just comment on my weight?”
He didn’t look up this time, just continued eating.
I took a deep breath and tried to find my happy place. I was not going to let him get me riled up. I was not going to stoop down to his level. I was not going to insult—
Oh, to hell with it. I am totally going to insult him. “I don’t have enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel about you,” I said, having decided that taking the high road was for other, more well-adjusted people.
He continued eating, but I thought I saw his mouth quirk at my outburst.
I stayed at the kitchen island, refusing to eat with him. He didn’t even look up as the bar stool scraped against the floor when I pulled it back. “I’ll have you know that I’m a perfectly normal weight.”
He turned on the TV. “You’ve lost at least twenty pounds since I first met you.”
What a rude asshole to point that out. I had indeed lost a few pounds. Even though I still had some of my curves, something I had inherited from the Columbian side of my family, I did look a bit worse for wear if I was honest. But I couldn’t eat when I was stressed. And moving out of my family’s house, despite my mother’s objections, was taking its toll. And, hello, uncertain futures weren’t exactly making me feel all warm and fuzzy.
I just couldn’t believe that Mason had noticed. Or talked to me the way he just did. The anger lodged inside my chest and squeezed, making it hard to breathe.
I pushed my plate away and got up. “If you don’t drive me back I’ll just walk.”
I made it as far as the hallway before two big arms engulfed me from behind. He carried me back to the living room where he sat me on the couch.
“Are you done with your hissy fit?” he asked.
I tried to get up, but he just pushed me back down.
“Don’t touch me,” I groaned out between clenched teeth.
He sat down next to me. “Calm down. I just want to talk to you.”
“You don’t have to touch me to talk to me.”
He put up his hands. “Fine. No touching.”
I didn’t try and stand up again, not trusting him. Instead I took a deep breath. “Why is it so important that I stay here? You hate me.”
“Look, I don’t hate you. I just don’t like the way you look down at anyone who doesn’t run in your circles. But I don’t hate you. And I apologized for being a dick. I was wrong and I’m trying to make up for it.”
“Well that makes it better. And I don’t know where you got that ridiculous idea from. But in case you haven’t noticed, neither Willa nor Maisie come from money and they are my best friends.”
I was no longer mad but now on the verge of tears. My first job was cleaning the stables at home. I was ten. And I had worked ever since. It meant I didn’t have to be at the house. And any time spent away was necessary so I wouldn’t go crazy. So I not only helped out at my family’s farm, but as soon as I was old enough I also took a job at the supermarket in town, stocking shelves.
It was true that I didn’t need the money, but it turned out all the savings I’d accumulated over the years came in handy now. Especially since my mother cancelled all my accounts and credit cards the second I moved out. She didn’t know I had my own account and had obviously been waiting for me to come crawling back. Guess she lost patience yesterday.
“Do you remember the first time I met you?”
I thought back to the concert and nodded. “I think so. We met at the Music Factory.”
“That wasn’t the first time we met.”
I frowned. I was sure I hadn’t seen him before.
