Betting on You (9 page)

It wasn’t an emotion he could easily place. It lived somewhere between anger and misery and hope, in the no man’s land of feelings where people so often found themselves when relationships went terribly wrong. It was a hard emotion to name, but not a hard one to empathize with. It was the same way he’d felt sitting in that car—a mix of angry and miserable and abandoned, with a tiny voice beneath it all praying in a whisper for a miracle, for Lark to come back and make everything all right.

Mason’s bunched shoulders dropped away from his ears. His hands unfisted at his sides.

He understood now. He should have understood all along.

“You wanted me to know how you felt,” he said, staring at the ground near Lark’s feet, not quite ready to look her in the eye.

“No, there’s no way you could know how I felt,” Lark said. “Three hours can’t teach you everything there is to know about thirty thousand hours, but I was hoping it would at least give you a taste.”

Mason nodded. “It did.”

“You were angry.”

“I was,” he whispered.

“And miserable.”

“And pretty sure I’d been abandoned,” he finished, a fresh wave of shame washing over him. He thought of the misery he had felt and multiplied it times ten thousand.

That
was what he had done to her. He’d known he was an ass, but it wasn’t until this exact moment that he understood it in a visceral way that cut through him the way he’d cut through bones and tissue in Gross Anatomy.

“You can’t ever forgive me,” Mason said, fighting to speak past the tightness in his throat. That had to be the reason for this. Lark was trying to penetrate his stubborn resolve and make him see that she was never going to give him a second chance, no matter what.

And now he did, he understood, and he was shattered, so shattered the ground felt like it was tilting beneath his feet.

“No,” Lark whispered. “I think I can. I think maybe I already have.”

Mason’s head jerked up in surprise. This time, when he met Lark’s eyes they were gentle, hopeful.

“You have?” he asked, voice cracking.

“I didn’t think you’d last an hour,” Lark said. “But you did and the longer I sat here watching you wait for me, the more I realized…” She licked her lips, pressing them together for a moment before she continued with a deep breath. “I care about you, Mason. I want to give this a chance. A real chance.”

“You do?” Mason’s relief was so profound, his hands shook with it.

“I do,” Lark said with a shy grin. “Are you still up for four more dates after a night like this?”

“I’m up for as many dates as you’ll give me,” Mason said, the center of his bones still feeling unsteady. He felt like a man who’d been rescued from a burning building seconds before it collapsed. Lark had pulled him from the fire and he was going to make the most of the chance she’d given him.

“Then let’s start now.” Lark crossed to him, slipping her hand gently into his. “I have some stew warming by the fire. And there are rolls and sweet tea and beer in the cooler if you want it.”

“I could use a beer,” Mason said with a soft laugh as Lark led him toward the campfire. “Or three.”

“Have four,” Lark said, squeezing his hand. “I’m driving. I think you’ve earned a little buzz.”

Mason stopped at the edge of the fire, holding tight to Lark’s hand, pulling her into his arms. She came without a moment of hesitation, letting him enfold her and hold her close for a long, quiet moment. Mason dropped his lips to the top of her head, drawing a deep, relieved breath, pressing a grateful kiss to hair.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome,” she said, arms tightening around his waist as she tilted her head back to look up at him, her skin glowing in the campfire light. “Let’s never fight again, okay? Or at least not for a long, long time.”

“Why would anyone fight with an angel like you?” Mason asked with a grin.

Lark narrowed her eyes, but her lips stretched into a smile. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? I’m the woman who just made you sit in a car blindfolded and sweating for three hours. I might be more devil than angel tonight.”

“Nope. You’re a good one, Lark, I don’t care what all those other people say.”

Lark laughed. “People don’t say a thing, Mason Stewart.”

“They don’t know you like I do.”

“Oh yeah?” She leaned closer, all her soft curves pressed tight against him, making his head spin. “So you think I’m a little devilish after all?”

Mason’s pulse beat faster. “Maybe. A little.”

“Speaking of devilish, you know what I miss?” Lark asked.

“What?” Mason murmured.

“Your truck,” Lark said in a low voice. “We had some good times in that truck.”

Mason remembered those good times, every single second of them. Every time they spread out the sleeping bags in the bed of his old red Chevy, every kiss, every caress, every time Lark leaned back her head and sighed as his lips trailed down her throat.

“I’ll trade my car in for something with a tailgate first thing tomorrow morning,” he said, meaning every word.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Lark stood on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to his cheek before adding in a whisper, “I do have an apartment of my own, you know. I don’t live with Mom and Dad anymore.”

“Yeah?” Mason asked, skimming one hand up and down the length of her back.

“Yeah. Maybe you’ll get it to see it someday,” she said in a teasing voice as she spun out of his arms and started around the fire. “Come on. Grab a couple of bowls from the bag by the cooler, I’m starving.”

Up until a moment ago, Mason had been starving, too, but now all he could think about was being alone with Lark in her apartment, in her bedroom…in her bed. He stood staring, imagining the firelight flickering over her bare skin, knowing she’d be so beautiful it would hurt to look at her, thinking about what part of her he’d kiss first, where his hands would—

“Mason?” Lark asked, pulling him back to reality. “Bowls?”

Mason blinked. “Right. Bowls.” He jerked into motion, forcing his thoughts back to food and campfires, letting his hand linger in the cooler for a few moments in hopes the ice closing around his hand would help cool him off.

It worked. Mostly.

“So where are we?” Mason asked after they’d settled in two chairs close to the fire.

“My land,” Lark said with proud little grin. “I bought it last year. I’m hoping to save up enough money to build a cabin up here in the next year or two.”

“That’s great.” Mason looked around the land with new interest. “You always said you wanted to live out in the boonies.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t live here, since most of my business is in Summerville or Atlanta, but I’ll be able to come here on weekends and vacations.”

Mason nodded as he dug into Lark’s homemade stew, moaning in appreciation. “Damn, this is good.”

Lark smiled. “It should be. I’m a professional now, you know.” She scooped up her own spoonful and reached for a roll from the paper plate on top of the cooler.

“I know,” Mason said. “You should be proud. Starting your own business isn’t easy these days.”

“Thanks.” Lark lifted her eyes, meeting his. “It was a ton of work, but it gave me something to focus on after you left.”

For the first time, she had mentioned him leaving without any anger or sadness or resentment in her voice. It was simply a fact. A fact that was in their past, leaving the future open for something different. Something better.

Things were really different now. Mason could feel it. The air between them felt lighter, their conversation freer, and as the night wore on, Lark didn’t hesitate to touch his arm, hold his hand, let him brush the crumbs from her lips or loop his arm around her waist.

By the time she pulled back into the parking lot of his hotel, Mason was feeling brave enough to lean across the car, cup Lark’s soft cheek in his hand, and—

“Wait,” Lark whispered, holding two fingers up between their mouths, keeping his lips from hers. “Not tonight.”

Mason sank back into his seat, trying not to look disappointed. “Whatever you want.”

“It’s not what I want,” Lark said, her hand coming to rest on his arm. “I just think it’s for the best. Once I start kissing you…”

“What?” Mason asked gently.

“I have a feeling I’m not going to want to stop,” Lark said in a husky voice that made Mason’s body ache in new and powerful ways.

Mason swallowed and reached for the door, not certain he could resist the urge to claim her mouth with his if he stayed in the car another moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said, stepping out of the car, throwing his next words over his shoulder. “I’ll pick you up at one.”

“What are we doing?” Lark asked, leaning across the gearshift to peek up at him.

“I have no idea,” Mason said. “I just want to spend as much of tomorrow with you as possible.”

Lark smiled. “Then pick me up at ten, silly. We’ll go get late breakfast.”

“I get the whole day?” Mason asked, feeling like he’d won an unexpected prize.

“We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” Lark smiled a wide, open, unguarded smile, with no secret sadness in it.

It was one of the most beautiful things Mason had ever seen.

“See you at ten,” she said.

“At ten.” Mason slammed the door and watched her pull away, but for the first time watching her go didn’t make him uneasy. He was going to see her in less than eleven hours, and he was going to get the entire day.

An entire day to convince Lark that they should never spend another day—or night—apart.

Chapter Eight

Lark crept quietly into her parents’ house at almost midnight, expecting Aria and the baby to be asleep and the house dark. Instead, she found Melody and Aria in pajamas at the kitchen table with mugs of cocoa, two open laptops, and papers scattered across the red tablecloth.

When Lark closed the door with a soft
knick
, both her sisters’ heads popped up, revealing twin guilty expressions.

“What’s going on?” Lark asked, kicking her shoes off by the front door.

“Nothing,” Melody said, reaching over and closing the nearest laptop. “How was your date?”

“It was fine. Great, actually.” Lark wandered slowly across the family room, while Aria gathered the papers from the table, folded them in half, and shoved them under the second laptop before snapping it closed.

“What have you two been up to?” Lark asked, shooting the laptops a pointed look.

“Just hanging out. Researching things and…things,” Melody said, with a nervous glance Aria’s way.

“Things and things,” Lark repeated, raising an eyebrow at her little sister. “What are you hiding, Mel?”

“Nothing.” Melody blinked too fast.

“She’s helping me with something,” Aria said. “You know I don’t like being alone in the house when Mom and Dad are gone, so Melody offered to come hang out and sleep over in case you didn’t come back tonight.”

“Why wouldn’t I come back?” Lark asked, knowing Aria was trying to throw her off the scent of whatever she was up too, but unable to resist responding to the jab. “I told you I would be home before midnight and I’m home before midnight.”

“Barely,” Aria said with a sniff.

Lark crossed her arms at her chest and nodded at the kitchen table. “What’s all this?”

“Just doing some research,” Aria said.

“Research on what?”

“I’m not sure yet, but when I am, I’ll let you know.” Aria picked up her mug. “I’m going to get more cocoa. Anyone else want some? Lark?”

“No thanks,” Lark mumbled. Something was definitely up, but Aria obviously didn’t want to tell her what it was.

“So the date was good?” Melody asked, still sounding nervous. Melody was a terrible liar and hated hiding things from her family, even good things. She had acted strangely for days before the surprise party they’d thrown for their mom’s fiftieth birthday.

It could be Aria and Melody were planning some kind of pleasant surprise for Lark, but she didn’t think so. Her birthday wasn’t for another three months and her gut told her whatever Aria and Melody were up, she wasn’t going to approve, which is why they were keeping their mouths, and laptops, shut.

“Mason still on his best behavior?” Melody added after a moment.

“Yeah,” Lark said, unable to keep her lips from curving into a gentle smile. “He was great. I think… I think we’ve turned a corner.”

“What kind of corner?” Aria asked, emerging from the kitchen with a fresh mug of steaming cocoa.

“A trust corner,” Lark said, ignoring the tightening around Aria’s lips. “He really understands what I went through when he left now, and I… I don’t know. I just don’t feel afraid anymore. I trust him never to do something like that again.”

“You do?” Aria asked, a harsh note in her voice. “And why is that? People don’t change overnight, you know.”

“It hasn’t been overnight,” Lark said, doing her best to remain calm, not wanting to get sucked into an argument. “It’s been four years.”