Betting on You (6 page)

And another… and another…until she made a soft, pained sound low in her throat and spun away.

“That how you treat all your patients?” she asked, voice shaking. She was scowling, but Mason didn’t miss the fact that she was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling faster than it should be.

Seems he wasn’t the only one affected by the chemistry between them.

“Only the ones I really like.” Mason grinned; Lark’s scowl deepened.

“Yeah? And how many of those have there been?”

Mason’s smile slipped. “Oh, come on, Lark. I was joking. I never—”

“No, I know there must have been someone,” she said, lifting her chin the way she did when she knew he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “Probably a lot of someones. You were gone for four years, Mason, don’t tell me you didn’t date anyone the entire time you were gone.”

“I thought we were talking about doctor-patient relationships,” he said, not wanting to talk about other women with Lark. He didn’t even want to
think
about other women. Lark was the one for him. End of story.

She shrugged. “Well, now we’re talking about boy-girl relationships.”

Mason nodded slowly, buying himself some time. Obviously she wasn’t going to let this go. He’d hoped to have at least one more low key date before they started talking heavy stuff, but if Lark wanted answers he was prepared to give them to her.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll talk about boy-girl relationships. Get your swim suit on and we’ll talk while we catch some fish for supper.”

Lark crossed her arms at her chest. “I told you, I’m too sick to—”

“You’re not sick.”

Her scowl deepened. “You don’t know that.”

“I know you don’t have a fever, and you haven’t had to use that tissue a single time since your first dramatic nose wipe.”

“Dramatic—” Lark’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you calling me a liar?”

Mason lifted his hands at his sides in the universal sign of surrender. “I’m not calling you anything, Lark. I just know you’re not sick and I want to take you fishing.”

“No, you
are
calling me a liar. I’m not stupid, Mason,” she said, but she didn’t sound nearly as outraged as the old Lark would have. The old Lark took great pride in her honesty. “If you’re going to insult me, at least have the guts to own it.”

“Okay,” Mason said, stepping closer, bracing his hands on the door on either side of Lark’s face, trapping her within the circle of his arms. She titled her head back, lips parting. “You’re a liar, and a coward,” he whispered. “You’re lying about being sick because you’re afraid to go on a second date with me.”

Lark’s breath rushed out. “That’s a mean thing to say.”

“It’s a true thing to say,” he said gently. “You used to be a big fan of the truth.”

The skin between Lark’s eyebrows wrinkled slightly. “You used to be a big fan of keeping your promises.”

Mason leaned closer, until he could feel her breath on his lips and his entire body hummed from being so close to her. “I’m still a fan. Tell me what you want me to promise, Lark, and I swear I’ll keep it until the day I die.”

“Anything?” Lark asked in a breathy whisper.

“Anything.”

Lark’s eyes flicked from his eyes to his mouth, and her tongue slipped out to wet her lips, making things low in Mason’s body twist. God, how he wanted to taste her, to slip his tongue between her damp lips and explore every inch of her hot mouth. To pull her so close, her breasts pressed tight to his chest and her—

“Promise you’ll go away and leave me alone,” Lark said, her words the equivalent of ice water poured down the back of Mason’s shirt.

He frowned. “What?”

“Go away, Mason. I don’t want this. I don’t…” She swallowed. “I just want to enjoy my vacation, and I can’t do that with you showing up every day making me feel all… I just can’t, okay?”

“Making you feel what?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head.

“No, I want to know. I want to know what you’re feeling that has you so scared you’re willing to break a promise to stop feeling it.”

“It’s… This… This just isn’t going to work,” Lark said softly.

“Why not? I thought we had a good time last night.”

“We did have a good time.” She ran a shaking hand through her hair. “Too good a time, and I went to bed feeling sad and alone for the first time since I finally accepted you weren’t coming back.” She lifted her eyes, eyes filled with pain Mason knew he had put there. “It took over a year, Mason. I can’t… I can’t forget that, even if I wanted to, which I’m not sure I do.”

“Why not?” he asked, wishing he could make them both forget, wishing he hadn’t been so fucked up that he ran away in the first place.

“I’m stronger and smarter than I used to be,” Lark said. “I can take care of myself and other people and I don’t have to call my boyfriend to see what he thinks every time I need to make a decision.”

“You never—”

“Yes, I did, and we both know it. I was just a kid when we started dating. I leaned on you too much. I don’t need to lean on anyone anymore. Now, people lean on me, and I don’t want to give that up to be some starry eyed kid in love all over again.”

Mason stared hard at her,
into
her, but she didn’t blink or look away. She was telling the truth. She truly believed this was never going to work out, no matter what Mason did to try to convince her otherwise.

Mason supposed most men would take that at face value, count their losses, and crawl off to find somewhere to lick their wounds in private, but Mason wasn’t most men.

Parker had been one hundred percent certain Mason would never make it through medical school. In his uncle’s eyes, his failure had been confirmed before classes even started, but Mason had refused to accept his uncle’s bleak vision of his future. Mason refused to accept Lark’s portents of doom, either.

“Six more dates,” Mason said after a long moment.

Lark growled beneath her breath. “Are you listening? I don’t—”

“I am listening,” Mason said in an even voice. “I don’t want you to lose anything you’ve gained. I want you to be strong and independent, but I also want
you
. With me. And there’s no way I’m giving up on us without a fight.”

Lark sighed. “What if I don’t want to fight?”

“Then don’t,” Mason said, slipping an arm around her waist. “I can think of lots of things I’d rather do than fight, can’t you?” he asked, pulling her close.

She stiffened as every inch of her front pressed tight to every inch of his, but after only a moment he felt her soften, melting in his arms. Her palms flattened on his chest, but she didn’t push him away. Instead, her fingers curled into his shirt, making his pulse beat faster. He leaned in, bringing his mouth closer to hers, heart pounding.

He was already imaging the way his first Lark kiss in four years was going to taste when the front door swung open and a rainbow-colored something flew at Mason’s face. The projectile connected with his nose with an offended squeak, summoning a high-pitched squeal of delight from just inside the house.

Mason looked up.

“She’s sick.” Aria stood in the doorway with her baby propped on her hip, glaring at Mason with undisguised contempt as Lark pulled away with a nervous cough. “She shouldn’t be getting that close to anyone.”

“So you decided to throw something at me?” Mason asked, glancing down to the concrete to see a garishly colored plastic hammer with a yellow squeaker at one end.

A baby toy. Aria
would
get her baby girl a hammer. She’d always said girls could do anything boys could do, but better.

“I didn’t want you to get sick,” Aria said in a tone that made it clear she couldn’t care less if he caught the plague and died. Slowly. While in great, great pain. “And it was Felicity who threw the hammer. She doesn’t trust men with facial hair.”

“Mason doesn’t have facial hair,” Lark said, deliberately avoiding looking at Mason, her cheeks still red with embarrassment.

“Must be his face she doesn’t trust then.” Aria didn’t crack a smile. “You’d better come in, Lark. We wouldn’t want you to get any sicker.”

“She’s not sick,” Mason said, fighting the urge to glare at Aria. He didn’t want to get on her bad side, at least not any more than he was already.

“Yes, she is.”

“No, I’m not,” Lark said with a sigh.

“Yes, you are,” Aria said. “Now come inside and get in bed and go to sleep before you do something you’ll regret.”

Lark looked up at Mason for a long moment before turning back to Aria. “It’s okay, Ra,” Lark said, using her pet name for her big sister. She laid a gentle hand on Aria’s arm and the two women stared at each other for a long moment, communicating without words the way the March girls often did.

Mason had always been a little envious of those conversations, wondering what it would be like to be so close to someone that you could speak to each other without uttering a sound.

Finally Aria blew air out through her pursed lips and shrugged as if to say “it’s your funeral,” and Lark turned back to Mason.

“I’ll be down in fifteen minutes. Just let me change and get my bag together.”

She disappeared into the house and Mason was left alone with Aria, who didn’t seem eager to invite him in. Instead, she leaned against the doorframe, baby still on her hip, glaring a hole through Mason’s forehead while Felicity batted at her mother’s long, gold feather earrings.

“So...” Mason said after a long, uncomfortable silence, broken only by Felicity’s baby chatter. “How have things been?”

“I’m a divorced single mother whose ex refuses to pay child support, living with my parents, Mason,” Aria said in a flat tone. “How do you think things have been?”

“Not easy,” he said, feeling like an ass.

“No, not easy.” Aria hitched Felicity higher on her hip.

“Is there anything I can do?” Mason asked.

“Like what?” She didn’t blink.

“My friend Chris Mathis from high school is in family law in Atlanta,” Mason said. “I could ask him to get in touch with you if you have any questions you’d like to ask a lawyer off the clock. I know the fees can get pretty crazy when they’re billing you for everything.”

Aria turned her attention to Felicity, smoothing the baby’s wispy red hair away from her face. “No, that’s okay. We’re not going to need a lawyer. I don’t care about the support.”

“Well, if you change your mind, I’d be happy to make the call.”

Aria glanced back at him, her green eyes sad, but clear and strong. “Some things are unforgiveable, Mason, no matter what,” she said, the venom in her voice replaced with the tiniest scrap of pity. “I’m not sure if what you did falls under that category for Lark, or not, but it sure would for me.”

“I made a mistake, Aria,” Mason said, meeting her hard look with a penitent one. “I know that, but it’s not a mistake I would ever make again.”

Aria reached up, gently pulling her earring from Felicity’s fist before the baby could draw it into her mouth. “Maybe you can convince Lark of that, Mason, but I’m a little more familiar with people who swear they’re not going to make the same mistake twice, and guess what?” she asked, bouncing the baby on her hip when Felicity began to fuss. “They always make the same mistake.
Always.
Sometimes three or four or five times. All giving them another chance does is make you feel like a fool.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been through that, but—”

“But nothing,” Aria snapped, the mean coming back into her tone. “I learned my lesson the hard way, but if I have anything to say about it, you can be sure Lark won’t have to. I’m not on your side, Mason, and I never will be, so you can stop trying to win me over. I don’t need your favors, and Lark needs you back in her life like an octopus needs a hand glider.”

Mason opened his mouth, but before he could speak, he heard the sound of Lark’s footsteps rushing down the stairs. A second later, she was at the door, her filmy black cover-up swirling around her legs as she breezed by Aria with only a slight pause to kiss the top of Felicity’s head.

“Ready?” Lark asked him, brown eyes searching his face.

Mason forced a smile. “Ready.” He glanced back up at Aria. “See you later, Aria.”

“Not if I can help it,” Aria said.

Lark frowned, but before she could turn around to admonish her sister, Aria had closed the door with a firm
thunk.

Lark sighed, and turned back to him. “Sorry about that,” she whispered as they started down the walk toward his car. “She’s just…protective. And cranky. Crankily protective.”

“It’s all right. I understand. I’ll win her over. It just might take a year or two.”

Lark hesitated at the end of the walk and turned to him with a panicked expression. Before she could speak, Mason cupped her face in his hands, brushing his thumb across her lips to keep her protest from entering the world.

“We’re going fishing, and I’m going to answer every question you can think to ask me,” he said softly. “And then we’re going to talk about what you need me to do to help you trust me again, so start thinking. Whatever you need, I’ll do it. I’ll learn to stand on my head and juggle flaming bowling pins with my feet if that’s what it takes.”