“With lessons and stuff.”
“Reform school for assholes?”
A small smile reached his eyes. “Exactly.”
She shook her head. “And what would be in that for me?”
He paused, as if this hadn’t occurred to him. Because of course it hadn’t.
“I could pay—” he began.
She cut him off with a raised hand. “You throw money around like water. It doesn’t mean anything to you. I’m not running a reform school—”
“Your new book,” he blurted. “You’re having trouble finishing.” He started to pace, gesticulating like he was presenting a TED talk. “It’d be a reciprocal arrangement. We’ll go somewhere. I have back-to-back away games, followed by three days off. We’ll take a mini-holiday. Anywhere you want. Sand, snow, safari. Your dream location. Just the two of us.”
“A holiday while teaching you—”
“Two hours a day for asshole-reform lessons. The rest of the time is yours to write. I can just… cheer you on.”
“Cheerleaders are not conducive to the writing process, Mason.”
“Then I won’t be there. Except for the two hours of lessons and meals, you’ll be on your own to write. Everything will be taken care of. Dinner out if you want it. Dinner in if you want it. Housekeeping done. You’ll only need tothinkof coffee and it’ll magically appear at your elbow.”
Damned if that didn’t sound…
Nope. Nope, nope, nope. It did, however, did give her an easy escape hatch.
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to be going out for dinner or having dinner dropped off. I wouldn’t want maid service. Too much of a distraction. You’d need to do all that yourself. Make the beds, take out the garbage, cook the meals…”
“Done.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
“Done.” He smiled. “I can’t guarantee it’ll begood, but I cookfor myself all the time. I take out my own trash. And I can make a bed.”
“I’ve seen your room, Mason.”
He lifted a finger. “But Icanmake it. When I billeted with families as a junior, I needed to keep my room tidy, and I always did.”
She wanted to say no. She should say no. But she’d been so certain that the housekeeping and cooking would put an end to this that she’d boxed herself into a corner. She couldn’t outright refuse after he agreed to her terms.
Which meant she needed new terms.
She thought. Thought some more. She had nothing on her calendar. She could lie, but that wasn’t right.
“I… I don’t know,” she said. “It’s very sudden and…”
“Think about it. That’s all I ask.”
She should refuse. Find some excuse. Instead, she heard herself saying, “Okay, I’ll think about it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
GEMMA
Gemma woke to a text, and for a second, she thought Mason had returned. Then she noticed the time. After seven.
She picked up her phone.
