Written in the Stars (9 page)

Mason tuned his mind to pizza. River Row Pizza was by far the best pizza he'd ever consumed, and he started to think of toppings to get his mind off...other things. Owners Tony Marino and his nephew Reese brought their Italian cuisine expertise from Brooklyn, and if the pizza wasn't enough, Reese's homemade desserts were, as Mattie put it...to die for. Mason didn't indulge all that often, but tonight he felt like ordering the works. Plus, River Row Pizza was one of the restaurants eager to serve his craft beer. This was business, he reasoned.

Mason drove slowly past the shops overlooking the river. The brick storefronts resembled old-­fashioned Main Street in downtown Cricket Creek even though they were fairly new construction. He'd been in some of these shops with Lauren. Designs by Diamante was where he'd purchased her engagement ring. Mason inhaled a breath and picked up the pace. More shops had opened since then, including a bakery specializing in wedding cakes, and in spite of the crappy memories, Mason had to admit that the shops were pretty and he was glad to see expansion and that business seemed to be thriving.

Gas streetlamps would light up soon, and pots of plants dripping with flowers decorated the sidewalk. He drove past a bridal shop, the jewelry store and florist, and just about anything a bride needed to plan her wedding. Mason sighed, thinking that his mind-­set hovered between
that ship has sailed
and
sure he still wanted a family
, depending upon his mood.

Tonight the mood was...what? Slowing down, Mason eased the truck into a parking space. He was in the mood for pizza and left it at that. No more thinking about the past.

When Mason entered the restaurant, he was hit by the tantalizing aroma of garlic and marinara sauce underlined with fresh-­baked bread. He inhaled deeply, catching a hint of sweetness, meaning Reese must be creating one of his decadent desserts. The hostess greeted him, but he opted to go to the bar and order takeout while relaxing with a cold beer.

Tony Marino pushed through the double doors leading to the kitchen and spotted Mason. “Well, hey, stranger.”

“What's up, Tony?”

“Me, half the night. Trish decided in a moment of insanity that we needed a puppy to give Digger some company.”

Mason laughed.

“When will the beer be ready?”

Mason's grin faded. “I'm getting there. I hope to have the beer tasting sometime soon.” If he could keep the production going, he thought darkly.

“Sweet. We'll be there with bells on. So what will you have tonight?”

“Takeout. Large hand-­tossed supreme pizza, but leave off the green peppers. Oh, and a tossed salad with your house dressing.”

“Got it. Want a beer while you're waiting?”

“No doubt. I'll take a Kentucky Bourbon Barrel.”

“Always a good choice,” Tony said, and placed the beer snifter in front of Mason. “I'll go place your order.”

“Thanks.” Mason took a sip of the bourbon-­infused ale and rolled it around in his mouth. “Good stuff.” Aged for at least six weeks in freshly decanted bourbon barrels, the smooth yet robust beer had gentle undertones of vanilla and oak. Mason loved it. He paged through the
Cricket Creek Courier
while he savored the ale, wondering if he should place an ad for the beer tasting or if advertising would bring in too many people. While he knew how to brew an excellent beer, the marketing end of the business was still somewhat of a mystery. Because of the marina, the Mayfield name was well-­known, and friends and family would spread the word, but in order to make a profit, he needed to land large sales quickly, without overextending his limited facility.

Eventually, Mason wanted to conduct tours and maybe even teach a home-­brewing class. He took a sip of the ale and sighed, thinking that he needed more hours in the day, and an extra set of hands would help. The ale helped him feel mellow, relieving some but not all of his stress.

“Here you go,” Tony said. “Piping hot.”

“The pizza smells so good. I don't know if I can make it home without a slice.”

Tony chuckled and patted his midsection. “Yeah, good thing I run most days or you'd have to roll me in and out of here every day. Tessa put a turtle cheesecake in the bag with your salad, on the house. Take some of it over to Mattie and give her and Garret our congratulations.”

“Wow, thanks a lot. Reese's cheesecake is the best. How's your sister doing?”

“Really good. She's champing at the bit for Reese and Gabby to have children.”

“And Trish? Are you still in newlywed bliss?”

“Are you kidding? I'm always in trouble for something,” Tony said, but then grinned. “Actually, she's busy writing for the
Courier
but just started working on a novel.”

“Good for her! Tell Trish I said good luck.”

“It's fun getting to see her fulfill her dream,” Tony said, and the soft smile said how much he loved his bride. “And I'm sure she'll want to do some articles about the brewery. Do you have a name yet?”

“I'm sure it is great to see her get to fulfill her dream,” Mason said as he reached in his wallet for his debit card. “Nah, I can't seem to come up with a name I like yet.”

“I'm sure you'll come up with somethin',” Tony said in his booming Brooklyn accent.

“Hope so.” After paying the bill, he thanked Tony again for the cheesecake and headed to his houseboat, eager for a slice of the pizza.

This Kiss...

F
EELING ANTSY JUST HANGING AROUN
D
THE
CABIN
,
Grace
had offered to help out at the bistro during the lunch rush, but ended up staying there the rest of the afternoon. Who knew that waiting on customers and bussing tables would be so exhausting? As she walked home, her feet ached and the small of her back throbbed. If she felt this way after a few hours, what must it be like to do a double shift? While Grace worked hard at whatever project she put her mind to, she had a new respect for people in the service industry.

Grace could really go for a deep massage. She moaned just thinking about it, then eyed the long distance across the dock to her cabin and pulled a frown. While she really did love the solace of being surrounded by the water, the long trek on tired feet was a bit of a pain tonight. And she was starving.

“Oh, dammit!” Grace stopped in her tracks when she realized that she'd left her takeaway meal back at the bistro. A lovely pastrami and baby Swiss on fresh marble rye with homemade potato salad and chips on the side. Her stomach grumbled in protest, but when she turned and saw the hike back up the hill to the restaurant, she shook her head, wondering if it was worth it.

Of course it was, she thought, and hiked back across the dock. She was passing the covered slips when she realized the lights were turned off at the bistro, indicating that Sophia had already locked up. “Bollocks!” Grace stomped her foot and then winced.

“What's all the cussing about, Gracie?”

Gracie?
Grace turned and spotted Mason standing on the back of his boat. Since when did he call her Gracie, and why did she like it so very much? Wait...he appeared to be eating something...a slice of pizza maybe.
Score.
“I left my dinner up at the bistro,” she said in a pathetic little feed-­me voice.

“You're in luck. I have a whole pizza over here, a giant salad, and dessert. Oh, and a Belgian blonde IPA that's my best ever.”

“So why am I in luck?” she asked lightly, but was already heading his way.

“Because I want you to join me,” Mason shouted.

“Are you quite sure?” she asked politely, but picked up her pace. “I don't want to impose,” she said.

“I never say anything I'm not sure of,” Mason said when she reached the back of his boat. He held out his hand for her to step onto the deck. “Careful.” His hand felt warm, and she was reluctant to let go. “Plus, I heard that you worked your tail off at the bistro this afternoon. You deserve the best pizza on the planet.”

“Really?” Grace tilted her head. “I'm pretty much a pizza lover, I'll have you know.”

“Then you're gonna love me.”

“Oh, no doubt,” she said. “Love the pizza,” Grace added breezily, but her heart skipped like a rock across the water. She'd secretly hoped that Mason would stop in the bistro or pop over to her cabin to check up on her. The best she got was a text message asking if she needed anything. Yeah, she needed for him to press her up against the wall and kiss her senseless. She needed that sexy mouth on her neck while she slid her hands beneath his T-­shirt.

“Yeah, you'll love the pizza,” he said, but the low, sexy tone of his voice coupled with that Southern drawl slid over her skin like velvet. “Have a seat and try a slice.”

“Now you're speaking my language,” she said in a nearly steady voice.

“I have to confess that I don't always understand your language.”

“It's called English.”

“Right.”

“Hey, you have an accent all your own, you know.” And she could listen to it all day long. All night long...Try as she might, over the past few days she couldn't get the sexy country boy off her mind. Well, maybe it was because she hadn't really tried. Grace enjoyed thinking about Mason. She liked thinking about his whiskey-­smooth voice, his intense blue eyes, and his killer smile, which didn't pop out nearly often enough.

“Do I have sauce on my face?”

“No...why?”

“You were looking at me funny.”

Oh no...busted. “That's because I have low blood sugar and I'm about to faint.” She fanned her face.

“Well, hellfire. Then grab a slice of pizza and sit down before that happens.” He pointed to a table attached to the deck and then turned and bent over to open a small fridge. As always, Grace took the opportunity to admire his jean-­clad butt. There was a little hole in the back pocket that intrigued her.

When he straightened up, Grace quickly opened the cardboard box and slid a slice of pizza onto a paper plate, hoping she hadn't been caught ogling. Grabbing a napkin, she sat down on the wide seat spanning the back of the houseboat. Grace usually wasn't one to get so caught up in a man's bum, but there was something about his that captured her attention. Did he do, like, a thousand squats a day or something?

“Presenting my Belgian blonde,” Mason said, and put a swing-­top bottle beside her pizza. I'll be right back with a glass.”

Grace nodded, wanting so much to go into the houseboat and have a look around. She took a bite of pizza and chewed. Oh...oh yeah, this pizza was superb. The dough was crisp on the bottom and chewy in the middle, with just the right amount of delicious edge of crust. The ingredients—­a generous amount of them—­tasted fresh, and the sauce was simply divine. Oh, and the tons of cheese was the kind that stretched with each bite, so you had to roll the strings around your tongue. Yeah, her kind of pizza.

A moment later, Mason arrived with two pilsner glasses and offered her one. “What do you think of the pizza?”

“Brilliant. Everything. All of it.” She dabbed at the corner of her mouth, nodding before taking another healthy bite.

“The best ever?”

“If not, close enough. I'm going to have to work extra hours at the bistro to keep from needing elastic waistbands.”

Mason chuckled. “And don't forget I have dessert.”

“No...just...no.” She polished off the slice of pizza and took a drink of the beer.

“How do you like the beer?”

“Excellent. Smooth...citrus and...” She took another sip and added, “Pear. Maybe just a hint of coconut? What makes it taste like that?”

“The Belgian yeast. It actually goes best with chicken and sharp or peppery cheese, but I wanted to try it.”

“I like it a lot.” She held up the glass, tipped her head sideways, and looked at the beer. “Pretty golden color too, if that means anything.”

“Actually, it does,” Mason said and seemed pleased at her observation. “Thanks, I'm really glad that you are enjoying it.”

“Why do you seem so surprised?” Grace asked. She held up her glass. “Beer as good and complex as this is an adventure in and of itself,” she said, but then hoped he didn't think her comment was silly or that she was trying to kiss up to him or anything...although the kissing part held some appeal.

“I agree with you.” Mason sat down across from her and propped one boot up against the side of the boat.

“Is that the shape of things to come?”

“What?”

“You agreeing with me,” she joked. Although he tried to grin and his stance appeared relaxed, there was a certain tension about him that hung in the air. Maybe he wanted an evening alone and she'd imposed. The thought made her fall silent, and she decided that she needed to finish another slice of pizza and then give him room to brood. The beer really was excellent. Mason knew what he was doing, so his brewery should be a success. This was his home turf, and so far everyone in Cricket Creek seemed to like and respect the Mayfield name. Grace picked a banana pepper off her pizza and popped it in her mouth. The tartness made her mouth pucker, so she took a bite of the crust to counteract the pepper. Ah...better. She picked off a mushroom and stole a glance at Mason, wondering if she should stay silent or come up with some meaningless chatter. Judging by the faraway look on his face, she opted for chewing a bite of crust instead of talking.

Mason sipped his beer and gazed out over the water, the pizza on his paper plate forgotten. Grace wondered if she tiptoed away if he'd even notice, but then again she wasn't good at tiptoeing, and being on a boat might complicate a stealthy escape. Should she clear her throat? Crack a joke? Break into song? She took another bite of the crust, unsure.

“Do you always eat your pizza like that?”

“Like what?” So he'd been paying attention to her after all.

“Picking off individual ingredients and then going backward.”

Grace looked down at her pizza and shrugged. “I guess I don't do anything quite the normal way.”

“Interesting.” Mason slid Grace a look that made her feel the need to fan her face.

“So what were you brooding about, Mason?” She put her pizza on the plate and tilted her head in question.

“I wasn't brooding.”

“Okay, thinking about, then.”

“How much I want to kiss you.”

The slice of pizza slid from her plate and landed on the table.

“Did I just surprise you?”

“Yes.”

Mason gave her a look that said he wasn't sure if he was glad or sorry for voicing his desire. He scrubbed a hand down his face and then took a drink of his beer. “Sorry, but that was out of line.”

“I like surprises, remember?”

Mason shook his head and gazed back out over the water. “Forget it,” he said softly.

“Why? Was it the Belgian blonde talking?” Though she asked in a joking tone, Grace was actually serious. She wanted to kiss him too, but not if his desire was fueled by the ale and any woman would do.

“No.” Mason shook his head slowly. “It's the British blonde who has been in my brain since the moment I met her.”

Grace's heart thudded. “So kiss me, then.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Mason brought his foot down to the floor with a clunk. He put his glass down on the table and finally looked over at her. “For a whole bunch of reasons. You're my sister-­in-­law, Grace. If we start something and it goes south, it affects the whole family.”

Okay, he had a valid point, but she still wanted to kiss him. “Go on.”

“You're in Cricket Creek for a visit. A visit means you'll leave, and not just a few hours away but across the damned ocean. So we know where this will end up before we even get started.”

He was right, but kissing him stayed in her brain and refused to budge. “But I'm here now.”

“For how long?”

“I dunno, really. I'm not entirely sure if I'm going back to London or not.” She wasn't sure of anything except she wanted to kiss him.

“That's even worse.”

“How so?”

“Because it could lead to false hope,” he said, and something in his eyes communicated that he'd been hurt before, so it gave her pause. Grace couldn't relate, because she'd dated but never really felt as if she were in love. “And for the life of me I can't believe I'm saying this stuff to you. I must be out of my mind.”

“Care to tell me about her?”

“Who?” he asked casually, but glanced away.

“The woman who hurt you.”

“We were engaged.” Mason shifted to look at her and lifted one shoulder. “In the end we wanted different things out of life,” he answered quietly, but she sensed there was more to his simple, direct answer.

Grace thought of her parents, though, and understood. “But you must have loved her.”

“I thought I did. What about you, Gracie? Have you ever been in love?”

“No,” she said, and the admission gave her an odd feeling in her gut.

“I have to say that I'm surprised. You seem so full of...I don't know...big emotion? Life?” He looked as if he wanted to say more, but then fell silent again.

Grace wasn't sure how to respond. She often wondered why she'd never fallen in love. She supposed it was because of her need to travel—­to roam and to start new projects as soon as the previous one was complete—­that perhaps she never even gave herself a chance to experience true love. But since coming to Cricket Creek, she felt...different. Being in the same place with Garret, Sophia, and her mother made her feel settled. But how long would this feeling last before she felt restless?

Grace knew that she needed a project or investment here or she would go out of her gourd with boredom. And it wasn't about money. Grace never dreamed that she'd become a millionaire before the age of thirty, and now she didn't even know what to do with it all. Working on a shoestring was somehow much more thrilling. And while she enjoyed developing the edgy makeup chock-­full of long-­lasting, eye-­popping pigment, she loved the marketing end of Girl Code most of all. For Grace, finding an overlooked slice of the marketplace crying out for a product was like panning for gold and finding a big nugget.

“Sorry. I've made you uncomfortable.”

The sincerity in his voice made Grace smile. He was truly upset. “There's no need to be sorry, Mason.”

“I've told you something that I should have kept to myself.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I feel the same way.”

“That I should have kept my feelings to myself?”

“No, silly. That I've wanted to kiss you since the night of the storm. It's only been a few days, but somehow seems like ages. I suppose it's because with the birth of Lily, so much has gone on that the passage of time seems a bit off, don't you agree?”

“Yeah.”

“Well then...” She nibbled on her bottom lip, waiting.

“And we could, you know, kiss, and no one would be the wiser. Just...a little kiss. To get it out of our systems. Who knows? Maybe it will be a big dud after all of the thinking about it. You wanna find out?”

“You make a good point,” she said in what she hoped was a practical tone, even though her heart was thumping like a bass drum. “I mean, with a kiss behind us, we could carry on and I'll quit staring at your bum every time I get the chance. Well, I'll probably still do that. Here's wishing for a dud and a good laugh.”