Last night had been a disaster. He wouldn’t say everything was fine now. But Gemma came back and listened to him—in the bar and in the cab—and now she’d stayed to look after him, and he was damn well not letting her slip away.
Small goals first. Get her to stay through breakfast and then figure out how to get her to spend the day with him.
For years, Mason had looked back on Gemma Stanton and declared that what he’d felt for her had been nothing more than teen angst and hormones. He hadn’treallyfallen for her. He couldn’t have, right? Not if he’d been such an asshole at the end.
Having her back in his life proved it’d been a lot more than angst and hormones, because what he felt for Gemma had started before angst and hormones even hit.
There was a reason he’d spent the first half of his life trying to catch her attention. Inviting her to skate after school. Bragging in front of her whenever he made MVP. Getting her behind the school for a kiss… and then realizing that was a silly idea and showing her a bug instead, which was, yep, just as silly.
There was a reason, when he’d been struggling in English, and his teacher suggested working on the newspaper, he’d pounced. That was agreatidea. In fact, he knew the editor from grade school. Ifhis teacher could just ask Gemma to work with him directly, that’d be perfect.
And then he did the truly shittiest thing he’d ever done in his life, which as Jesse would say, was quite an achievement. After that, he knew he’d lost any chance with her, which had been…
Devastating.
And also… a relief?
It was complicated, and he would not analyze that. The important thing was that she’d forgiven him enough to write him as the romantic hero in her book. That didn’t mean she wanted to date him. He was pretty sure she actually didn’t. But it meant that door had cracked open, and he was shoving his foot in the gap as fast as he could.
Gemma Stanton was in his condo. Sleeping on his recliner, adorably curled up sideways, one bare foot sticking out. His gaze slid along that foot, up her calf to—
He’d thought she was under a blanket. Now he realized she’d fallen asleep wearing his bathrobe. She must have been freezing from that rain and taken a shower or a bath. Then she’d grabbed his bathrobe and slid into it.
Mason pushed to his feet to get a better look. She looked hot in that dress last night, but it was nothing compared to seeing her in his bathrobe.
It was like an alternate version of last night, where everything had gone perfectly, that old fire between them roaring to life, Mason bringing her home, to his bed, where he never brought anyone, but she was Gemma. The OG. The girl he’dalwayswanted in his bed. And now she was finally there, when he’d shown her why he was so much better at thirty-six than he’d have been at seventeen.
He imagined all the ways he’d shown her.
Well, that was one way to start his morning. Gemma Stanton, in his bathrobe, while he sported the raging hard-on of a horny teen.
He reminded himself none of that happened and she was only wearing his robe because she’d had a shower. Something he should probably do himself.
Take a shower… where he accidentally left the door open and she walked in to see him naked, lathered up and hard as rock. She’d stand there, watching, thinking he couldn’t see her, but he could, through the mirror in the shower, and he’d watch her as his hand dropped to his cock. She’d stay in the doorway, her lips parted, breath coming faster, her excitement fueling his and—
He inhaled deeply, took one last look at her, and then headed to the shower to finish playing out that scene.
When he got out of the shower—wrapped only in a towel because she had his bathrobe—she still didn’t wake. He padded into the kitchen. He’d cook breakfast. She couldn’t leave if he’d done that.
He opened the fridge. He’d made blintzes yesterday: cheese with berry sauce. He could fry those up for a breakfast combo, add in some turkey sausages.
He hesitated. What if Gemma didn’t like blintzes? What if she expected bacon? Or pork sausages? While his parents hadn’t kept kosher, they didn’t eat pork, and Mason followed suit.
He could follow a recipe and knew the techniques, but he lacked his grandmother’s genius with food. Stick with what he was good at. Stay in the safe lane.
He shut the fridge door. He’d get takeout.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GEMMA
Gemma woke, stretched… and winced as she realized she’d fallen asleep in Mason’s bathrobe. She shouldn’t have even put it on, but it’d looked so warm and cozy that she couldn’t resist.
It’d been as warm and cozy as it looked, and it smelledsogood—like Mason’s soap.
She figured she’d wake up first and change back into her dress once it had time to dry. But now Mason’s spot on the sofa was empty, and he’d left her own note turned over with one written on the back. Three words.
Don’t go anywhere.
