Page 13 of Unromance

As if sensing her gaze, Mason turned, the corners of his mouth twitching up. He thanked the woman working the booth as she handed him his package before crossing over to her.

“Actually Real Name Greene,” he said by way of greeting.

She laughed through her nose. So he’d looked her up. She tried not to be flattered. She’d scoured Instagram for Mason Álvarez, too, but only found a Spanish soccer player who, while also hot as sin, was not him. Which was probably for the best. What if he had one of those douche-bro online personas? It would ruin all her fantasies and she desperately needed her emotional support daydreams. “Álvarez,” she countered, still unsure whether that was his last name or not.

He glanced around uncertainly. “Listen, I know I promised if we saw each other again that I would run, but I’m kind of in the middle of shopping with my nephews, so is it cool if I finish?”

Sawyer’s stomach did a weird flip, pushing all thoughts of how adorable that was from her mind. “Of course. You know I’m a big fan of finishing.”

Mason’s cheeks dimpled as he grinned. “Do not keep making sex jokes, or I will fall in love with you.”

Sawyer fixed him with a hard look. “Don’t you dare.”

He winked at her. They were standing in the middle of the thoroughfare, the sea of shoppers parting around them. People stared at them for the inconvenience, their gazes softening as they lingered on Mason.

“How are you?” he asked. Sensation shot up her spine when he placed a hand at her back, guiding them off the main path and into a sweetshop booth.

Sawyer shrugged, studying the confections disinterestedly. “Trying to write my next book. Failing. Came here to shake things up, maybe get inspired.”

“And are you—inspired?” he asked, taking a box of fudge off the shelf.

“Starting to be,” she said hopefully.

He glanced up at her, his expression seeming to mirror her own cautious hope and relief. “I’m happy to hear that.”

Sawyer pressed her lips together to keep from smiling, trailing behind him as he picked up more overpriced sweets. “How are you?” She asked to be polite, but also… she wanted to know. “Have any more meet-cutes? Get stuck in any more elevators with pretty girls?”

He flashed her a grin. “Just the one, thank God.”

She rolled her eyes, grateful she could blame the flush in her cheeks on the cold.

Mason counted the boxes in his arms, adding two more before queuing up to pay. He must have noticed Sawyer eyeing his massive stack, his grin turning conspiratorial. “What?” he said innocently. “I have a big family! I’m not above bribery to maintain favorite uncle status.” As if to accentuate his point, he grabbed a bag of chocolate coins from the display by the register, adding it to his pile with a flourish.

As they left the sweetshop, Mason turned suddenly, Sawyer nearly running bodily into him. Taking a step back, she put an acceptable amount of space between them. It shouldn’t matter. They’d slept together, for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t like she didn’t know exactly what was beneath that peacoat. But she’d never had a one-night stand before, and she wasn’t really sure what the protocol was if you ran into them again. Going Christmas shopping with them in the cutest market you’d ever seen probablywasn’tit. Especially not when the twinkling white lights overhead reflected in their eyes and—

Jesus, Sawyer, get it together, she chastised herself.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “What are you doing after this?”

Sawyer’s jaw went slack, her lips parting in surprise. Absolutely not. They’d agreed it was a one-time thing. She could not start hanging out withElevator Guy. Especially not when she was on the most precarious of deadlines.

“Uncle Mason!” a high-pitched voice screeched.

The crowd around them parted, spitting out a small boy that immediately began trying to drag him in the opposite direction.

“Uncle Mason! You gotta come see!”

Mason gave her a bemused look before scooping the boy into his arms and hauling him over his shoulder like a firefighter.

“You hungry?” Mason asked, as if there weren’t a squirming child on his shoulder.

“Um,” Sawyer mumbled, glancing around for some sort of magical excuse.

A pretty brunette appeared beside Mason, the boy in her arms the spitting image of the boy Mason had over his shoulder. She could only be his sister, her exhausted-looking husband half a step behind her. How was she supposed to politely refuse him in front of his family?

“Kuma’s? In an hour?” he pressed.

The woman next to him studied her curiously, her manicured brows raising slightly as her gaze bounced between the two of them. Sawyer was now feeling very hot beneath her many winter layers, and wanted nothing more than to be out of this uncomfortable conversation before introductions could be made. And that was the only reason why she mumbled, “Yeah, sure,” before making a beeline for the exit.

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