Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 212458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1062(@200wpm)___ 850(@250wpm)___ 708(@300wpm)
She then pins me with a wide-eyed look.
“What?” I ask.
“It’s perfect for you. Where’s your fated mate?”
My eyes roll.
“No, really. This is exactly where you should be living. Not in one of those assembly line carbon copy houses. This is so much more your style. As is the wolf shifter.”
“I don’t live here, though, Mom. I’m just in captivity. And if you think the house denotes whether we belong with the guy or not, don’t ask to see where Tyson had been keeping Ivy.” I fake-shudder.
I have no idea what the new house they just moved into looks like, but that shack was definitely roughing it. Then again, roughing it with the right guy is infinitely better than a mansion with the wrong one.
Mason comes downstairs, fresh-looking in a soft-looking gray turtleneck sweater and faded jeans. Barefoot.
His lips touch my temple and then he’s putting his arms around my mom.
“Well, phooey to freedom if this is captivity,” Mom says, patting Mason’s jaw with affection.
“Mrs. Brennan, nice to see you again. How was the drive?” His eyes are sparkling.
Gah. Why is he so attractive?
I’m thinking Mom is thinking the same thing, though instead of being annoyed by his good looks, she’s looking up at him like he hangs the moon.
“It was great.” Mom gestures to me. “Word to the wise – don’t let Amelia give you directions. Find out the coordinates and find it yourself.” She hands me the Apple store bag.
“It’s true,” I mutter with a shrug.
Mason’s shoulders shake with silent laughter. He glances at his wristwatch and then looks to my mom. “Would you like dinner with us? It’s nearly that time.”
“Oh… um… I…” Mom’s eyes bounce to me. “I didn’t mean to arrive at dinner time. That’s rude.”
“It’s not rude,” Mason corrects. “And we’d be happy to feed you.”
“Well, sure, then,” she says carefully.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he invites. “Wine? Coffee? Something cold to drink?”
“Coffee would be fabulous, thank you. What a great host you are, Mason.”
I pull out the new phone and unbox it on the breakfast bar. It’s not the phone I have. It’s the new model. It’s huge. And pretty. And eep - expensive. She got me one up from the model I asked for.
“Mom, how much do I owe you for this?” I bite my lip.
“Nothing,” she says. “Early Christmas gift.”
“Christmas is months away, ” I say.
She waves her hand.
I’m about to argue with her when Mason asks, “What to drink for you, wildberry?”
“Wine,” I say, “If we… err… you have any.”
“We have plenty. Here. Look.” He directs my attention to the side of the breakfast bar where there’s a little wine fridge.
“Ooh!” Mom reacts. “If I weren’t driving.”
“You’re welcome to stay the night,” Mason offers.
“Actually, I have things to do tonight and tomorrow, but I might take you up on that another time. I will stay for dinner, though, if you’re eating soon and of course if it’s not too much of an imposition.”
And I read what looks like relief in his eyes. My eyes narrow.
“Amie,” Mom says softly, “I need the powder room. Where –”
I point to the door by the front entrance. “That’s the closest one.”
“Thanks, honey. After that, maybe you can give me a tour.”
I give her a warning look. “I’m not qualified to do that, particularly since I don’t live here.”
“I’d be happy to do that if Amelia isn’t comfortable yet.”
“Yet,” I mutter with an eyeroll.
He kisses me again.
Mom disappears into the bathroom. I turn and level a glare at him.
“What did I do now?” he asks, looking amused.
I leave the phones on the table and wander to squat and look at the wine selection.
“You looked relieved she didn’t want to spend the night. Don’t invite someone if you don’t mean it.”
“I am relieved, but I did mean it. I wouldn’t want your mother to drive home in the dark or avoid a glass or three of wine because I’m a shitty host,” he says softly. “Though I am relieved, but only because we’re still supposed to be alone. Most new shifter couples don’t see a soul for a week or two and we’ve been lucky to get a few hours at a time before there’s a crisis, a visitor, or someone…” He gives me a poignant stare, “escaping.”
I scoff. “Ivy said Bailey says alpha shifters are clingy after they do the mating thing.”
“Clingy? Not sure I like that choice of words but … not inaccurate.” He shrugs.
Is this guy totally unshakeable?
I pass him a wine with a label I recognize as the similar to the one his mother included in that basket she gave me, the basket that’s now sitting on the coffee table in his living area. This bottle has a peach on the label.
I saw some really nice bath products in that basket. Mason has a big soaker tub up on the top floor, but I’m wary about opening anything or even rooting through to see all of what’s in there because of what that might say about me and this situation, but I’d really love to test out those bath bombs and a body scrub that I saw laying on top.