instead of taking my dad up on his offer to manage one of the family BBQ shacks. Mason was positive I could make my dream of working as a chef at a fancy restaurant a reality.
My dreams have changed over time, but I might still be working at Donut Time Diner if Mason hadn’t come into my life.
As much as he hurt me, he also helped me.
I tell myself that’s why I said yes to his bargain, out of respect for the times he was there for me. It has nothing to do with the way my skin tingled all over when he touched me, or the way my heart jerked in my chest when he said my name. Nothing to do with the way my entire body began to sizzle when he fell on top of me in the field last night.
I gave up waiting for marriage a few years ago, when I began to suspect it wasn’t going to happen for me—at least not soon enough to spare me from being the oldest, most sexually frustrated virgin on the continent—but I’ve never felt half as turned on by being naked with another man as I felt lying fully clothed in the grass with Mason.
He’s just…hot as hell. Always has been. From our first kiss to our last, kissing Mason was like being shot through with lightning and loving every minute of it.
“Well, I think she should have told Mason to go straight to The Bad Place and rot there,” Aria says, pulling me from my dangerous thoughts.
I can’t think about kissing Mason. If I think about kissing Mason, there’s a chance I will actually kiss Mason in real life, and that’s a recipe for disaster. I’m giving him a week to see if we can be friends. Or at least end things in a way that will allow both of our damaged hearts to heal.
I’m not seriously considering getting involved with Mason again.
Not even a little bit.
Liar, liar, pants on fire…a little voice whispers inside of me. But thankfully Aria pipes up again.
“And if that didn’t work,” she says, “Lark should have applied for a restraining order.”
“It’s Mason, Aria,” Melody says, rolling her eyes. “He doesn’t need to be restrained. He would never hurt Lark.”
“He’s already hurt her.” Aria catches my gaze as I turn to pace back toward the kitchen. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” she adds in a softer voice. “We can call Uncle Jim and have him personally escort Mason back to his hotel, or wherever he’s staying while he’s in town.”
Uncle Jim is our go-to for parental-type intervention at the moment. Mom and Dad are out of town on a two-week cruise, a last minute trip I suspect was spurred more by Mom’s need to get away from Aria than her profound longing to see the Alaskan wilderness.
Mom loves all her daughters, but she and Aria have been butting heads constantly since Aria moved back home. Mom loves having Felicity around, but her eldest daughter’s sour attitude rubs her the wrong way.
Our mom, Sue, is like Melody, a romantic who believes life is a beautiful adventure waiting to be twirled through. Mom is the one who refused to let me wallow in despair when Mason left. She insisted I think of something I was dying to do and then helped me become so immersed in my new project that I had no time for moping or sourness.
That project was Ever After Catering.
At first, even the name of my business had stung me a little. Yes, it was a great name for a wedding caterer, but after Mason left I had about as much faith in my own ability to find happily ever after as I did the tooth fairy.
But now…
But now, nothing. You can’t trust him. He’s proven that. If you fall for him again, you’ll just be giving heartbreak an engraved invitation to RSVP.
“Well?” Aria reaches for her back pocket where her cell phone always lives. “Am I calling Uncle Jim?”
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s only seven days. I can put up with anything for seven days, and then he’ll be out of my life for good with no more surprises.”
“A life without surprises…” Melody sighs as she sinks into Dad’s overstuffed armchair. “That sounds like the worst kind of life there is.”
“There are lots of worse kinds of lives,” Aria says with an exaggerated roll of her eyes that makes Felicity laugh again. “Like life with cancer. Or