Mason (Carter Brothers #2) - Lisa Helen Gray Page 0,63

like a ragdoll, he gets her to dance by waving her arms everywhere.

I watch for a few minutes before bursting into laughter, especially when my Nan turns green and throws up all over Max’s nice white shirt. Well, now it’s stained yellow and an orangey colour, but let’s not get into it. I’m pretty sure there weren’t any carrots served in the food either, I think when I look at the sick dripping off his shirt. The smell itself has me wanting to hurl.

“Oh my God, she’s foaming from the mouth. Someone help.... help.... fucking hell, that stinks,’’ Max squeals before he starts gagging himself over the kitchen sink. He quickly rids his shirt and being the woman that I am, I can’t help but ogle his fine muscles. For a seventeen year old lad, he’s got the package, just a shame he doesn’t do it for me. He’s too fucking much. Too high maintenance and a complete womaniser, plus, he doesn’t make my skin tingle or my heart race when he enters a room like his brother does.

“I think I’m going to be sick,’’ Joan moans, and Mark takes her hand and starts walking her to the door. “I’ve got sick on me. It’s all over me Mark. Get it off! Get it off!’’

Her voice fades out and I turn to my Nan to make sure she’s okay and then over to Max who is grabbing a clean t-shirt of Mason’s off the ironing pile. I narrow my eyes at him, but he seems unaffected.

“You...,’’ I point to Max. “...can take my Nan back home. I can’t believe you would do something like this. What if I had eaten one of those and it harmed the baby?’’

“I told you not to touch them,’’ he snaps throwing his hands up.

“Listen mate, when you tell someone not to do something or they can’t have something, then they’re going to want it more. You’re fucking lucky I was craving onion and not brownies because I would have eaten them and that would have been on you,’’ I growl, before stomping off upstairs.

When I get to the top I stop, instead of turning right to mine and Mason’s room, I head left and make my way into the nursery, a huge smile lighting up my face.

Chapter Twelve

By the end of the week, I was in a blissful, horny, frustrated state and tonight was the night Mason was taking me out on another date. We haven’t had a chance to do much besides stay at home with some kind of takeout and a movie because of my ever growing bump and bad case of heartburn. Never even realised such pain in my chest could exist. So Mason decided tonight, which is Friday, that we’ll go out for something to eat before coming back to watch a movie in bed.

Harlow’s due back from court any moment. We’ve planned to go into town and do some shopping as the last time we never managed to get farther than the cafe before we came back for the surprise baby shower/new home party.

After getting up late again this morning, I’m surprised I’m ready and dressed by the time the doorbell rings just gone twelve.

Harlow.

Running down the stairs as quickly as I can, I rush to the front door and open it up to see a sad looking Harlow.

“Hey, what’s up?’’

“What? Oh... um... these were at your door,’’ she says handing a bunch of lilies over to me.

“Must be off Mason for tonight,’’ I grin.

“Aren’t lilies meant for funerals?’’ she asks unsure.

Shit! “Yeah they are,’’ I say slowly, eyeing the bunch of flowers like they are poison. I find the card taped to the side and move in to the front room to put the flowers down. Opening the card, I’m drawing my eyebrows together.

What the hell!

“What’s wrong?’’ Harlow asks looking at me.

“It says ‘Now may you rest in peace.’ How creepy is that?’’ My hands are shaking and my mind is wondering what on earth Mason was thinking about writing that. “Let me just call Mason.’’

His phone rings three times before he answers.

“Awe, babe, are you missing my sweet ass already?’’

I grin into the phone, the lilies long forgotten and shake my head. “Yeah, because I didn’t see you four hours ago,’’ I laugh into the phone.

“Babe, I barely got a goodbye out of you when I left four hours ago,’’ he chuckles. “What’s up?’’

“Oh, yeah, why have you sent me creepy lilies?’’ I ask, hoping not to