Though I recognize the selfishness in my desires, I can’t ignore my emotions as Mason does, but I’m damn well going to try. I put on my best I’m-no-bodies-side-chick face as I enter the kitchen.
“Morning daddy?” I kiss dad on the cheek. Seeing him in the kitchen always brings back fond memories. He isn’t home often, but when he is, dad goes all out. Meals together, lavish shopping, and we go over my investments. The latter is more his idea of a good time. It doesn't matter what we’re doing because I plan on soaking in every second with him.
“Morning, angel.”
Dad pulls me into a bear hug and I melt into it, not realizing how much I needed to be held. “I could have used this hug last night.” From the corner of my eye, I notice Mason pauses from cutting strawberries.
“Mason said you were asleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”
I glance toward Mason, pretending I haven’t noticed his tall frame until now. “Oh, hi Mason.”
“Charity.” Mason nods, but doesn’t look at me.
I glare at him. What is he peeved about?
“Play nice, you two.”
“If you start your vacation grumpy, you will only add to your gray hairs.”
Mason tilts his head in my direction. “Then my head will be snowy white by the new year.”
Dad chuckles, placing two large maple syrup pancakes into a plate with strips of bacon, before sitting it on the counter before me. My stomach growls, discontented from my late night feast of Chinese cuisine that was abruptly interrupted by Mason's unexpected visit and his announcement of spending Christmas in Candy Cane.Two entire weeks.I exhale. It can’t be that difficult to pretend Mason and the treacherous pulsing between my thighs doesn’t exist.
“You haven’t made these in forever.” I drown my pancakes in more maple syrup, ignoring the two sets of eyes on me.
“You missed a spot,” Dad teases, adding another plate beside me. The rest of the pancakes he puts into a dish.
For good measure, I add more syrup to my breakfast.
Mason sits beside me, placing the fresh bowl of strawberries between us, and my pulse immediately throbs from his nearness.
“You’re not having breakfast?” I ask dad when he covers the dish. Only then do I realize he’s dressed in a button-down shirt and black pants, not in pajama bottoms or workout attire. Not at all resembling a man on a leisurely vacation.
“I’m heading to Naomi’s. I’d like to have a team in place by the end of the holiday.”
“So Naomi accepted your help?” This news takes me by surprise. I expected at least another day of dad convincing her because Naomi doesn’t ask for help often and accepts it even less.
Mason grunts, and I glance between the men at their unspoken exchange. There’s something they aren’t telling me.
“I’m coming with you.” I reluctantly shove my plate aside.
“No, angel.” Dad kisses my forehead. “You know your way around town, and I need you to help, Mason.”
I glance at Mason. Dad’s simple request isn’t so simple, and I’m thrown between agreeing or saying no. But I can’t outright choose the latter without drawing dad’s curiosity. “Doing what exactly?”
“We need a list of locations for Naomi’s shop, and I want to know why the bank is interested in her property.”
“Of course I’ll help Noami.”
“That’s my girl.” He kisses my forehead. “Besides, if anyone can make Mason agreeable, it’s you.”
I groan.
As soon as the front door closes behind dad, I stand, but Mason’s hand on my thigh prevents me from leaving. “You need to eat.”
“I’m not hungry,” I counter.
“Eat,” the single word is barely about a whisper, but the steel behind it is unmistakable. When I don’t move, he says, “you didn’t eat last night.”
