“Good. We’ll invite him,” she says. “But we won’t tell Aria. I think it’s better if it’s a surprise.”
“That way she can’t yell at us until after it’s over?”
“Absolutely,” Lark says with a wicked grin.
“Maybe I like this devilish side of you, after all.”
She giggles. “A little salt makes the caramel taste sweeter. That reminds me, there’s a new breakfast place near the highway that makes Dutch baby pancakes with caramel sauce on Saturdays. We should hit it up some weekend. But we’ll have to get there early. Otherwise, you end up waiting hours for a table.”
“Sounds amazing,” I murmur.
“Waiting hours for a table?”
“Making plans for the future with you.”
She sighs and relaxes back into her seat. “Yeah, that is pretty amazing.”
It really is, I think, and getting better with every passing day.
Chapter 16
Lark
The day grows hot, but not too hot, and Mason and I spend every minute of it outside, hiking, skipping rocks on the beach, and driving the boat around the lake until the sun begins to slide lower in the sky.
By the time Mason drops me at my parents’ house to take a shower and runs back to his hotel to do the same, it’s nearly five o’clock. I’m sad to see him go, but less than forty minutes later, I hear a car pulling up to the curb out front.
I push the curtains aside and peek out the second story window to see Mason emerging from the Audie, proving he’s every bit as eager to get back to me as I am to have him by my side. Grinning, I swing out of my room and race down the stairs in my bare feet. “It’s for me! I’ll get it,” I shout as I throw open the door, fighting the urge to leap into Mason’s arms and kiss him until we’re both breathless.
He looks…gorgeous.
His damp hair swoops low on his forehead, stopping just above magnetic blue eyes that practically beg me to drag him to my bedroom, lock the door, and show him just how happy I am to see him. His fitted jeans cling to his strong legs and his black button-down shirt, rolled up on his forearms, emphasizes the sexy scruff on his cheeks.
He looks good enough to eat, good enough to devour inch by delicious inch. I don’t want to share this man. I want to be alone with him, now, preferably with both of us wearing as little clothing as possible.
But that’s exactly why I planned this cookout.
If I don’t surround myself with people, I’m not going to make it another day without pouncing on Mason like a she-cat after a man-sized hunk of catnip, and that doesn’t seem like the smartest idea four dates into our second chance.
“Long time, no see,” Mason says, his grin as wide as mine.
“You didn’t take the time to shave.” I lean against the doorframe and cross my arms, not missing the way Mason’s gaze flicks down to the cleavage displayed by my black baby doll dress and back up again.
“I was in a hurry,” he says, stepping closer.
“In a hurry for what?” I ask innocently. “Dinner isn’t being served until seven.”
“In a hurry to get back to this woman I like a whole lot.” Mason reaches for me, pulling me out the door and into his arms. “She’s about your height and wearing this little black dress that I think might drive me crazy by the end of the night. Or ten minutes from now, I can’t be sure.”
“Is that right?” I put my arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to whisper my next words inches from his lips. “And why’s that?”
“Because she looks amazing, and I want to touch her so badly it’s probably criminal.”
“You’re touching me right now.” I lean in, pressing my breasts against his chest.
A pained expression flickers across his face, and I shiver.
I understand that pain.
I feel it all over, in every place that aches for him to touch me, taste me, slip his fingers between my legs and discover how much I want him. I’m so keyed up even a friendly hug on my parents’ front porch is enough to make my panties wet. I’m pretty sure I’m becoming what my Great Aunt Regina would call a “shameless hussy,” but Mason feels too good to care.
“You’re killing me.” He shifts until my hips are fitted against his, and the hard ridge behind his fly confirms that I’m not the only shameless hussy around these parts.
“Killing you?’ I echo.
“But what a way to go,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends tingles across my electrified skin. His hand skims down to cup my bottom, nudging me closer to the thick length I’m dying to feel inside me.
“What’s the male version of a shameless hussy?” I ask, my breath coming faster. “A huss?