Page 19 of Unromance

Pursing her lips in mock contemplation, she tugged open the collar of his coat, spying the agreed-upon red flannel underneath. A smile spread slowly across her face. “Oh hell yeah. C’mon, Álvarez-West, daylight’s wasting.”

His face lit up as he hurried to get in front of her so he could open the door for her. “Where’s your car?”

She gestured proudly to her car out front, a premium parking spot.

Mason burst out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

CRASH LANDING– Falling for them—literally. Bonus points for landing on top of them, faces millimeters apart.

It was the tiniest car she could possibly own. It was adorable and suited her perfectly.

“What?” Sawyer said defensively. “It has great tires, and the roads are clear.”

Mason bit down on his lip to keep from grinning. That wasnotwhat he was worried about, but if she hadn’t realized the flaw in her master plan, then he wasn’t going to point it out. Not yet. He held up his hands innocently, cutting in front of her to beat her to her door, opening it with a flourish.

She gave him an unbelieving shake of her head as she sank into the driver’s seat. Mason grinned to himself as he crossed around to the passenger side of the old Volkswagen Beetle. Inspiring romance? He was born for this.

The Christmas tree farm was forty-five minutes outside the city, but the drive went by in a blink—partially because Sawyer drove like a madwoman on the highway and partially because Mason may have shut his eyes in preservation instinct more than once. Her car was so old it didn’t have “Oh Shit” handles, otherwise he would have beengrabbing them as she slipped between lanes of traffic with barely a glance.

It was best if he didn’t watch the road, so he watched her instead. She talked animatedly as she described all her favorite Christmas traditions, often getting sidetracked mid-story and starting another tale, only to seamlessly slip back into her original point. Her mind was chaotic and fascinating.

“So, besides the tree, what else do you have planned for the holidays?” he asked.

Her face fell, and he swore even her blinker blinked half-heartedly. “We’re here!” Her voice was strained, and he knew her enthusiasm was for show, to avoid answering the question. He couldn’t figure out why. The Queermas traditions she’d spent the past half hour describing sounded better than any holiday party he’d ever attended.

She pulled into the lot, her car comically small next to the SUVs and pickup trucks in the makeshift muddy parking area. He hazarded a glance, waiting for her to realize the flaw in her plan, but the smile on her face that had been taut before was now soft.

“What?” she asked defensively.

“You really like Christmas, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “You don’t?”

Mason frowned. “Not since Santa stopped being real. The only tradition we had was my mom designing the perfect tree for us to pose in front of for her Christmas card with a letter highlighting all the most glamorous things we’d done over the past year—which were all things she’d signed us up for.”

Sawyer made a face that said,Yikes.

He tensed. They’djustagreed to keep things superficial. He hadn’t meant to share so much, never talked openly about his momwith anyone outside of Luis or Alissa. His relationship with his mother was complicated, but he knew the front she put up—while exhausting—had always been to sate the curiosity of the media so she could have as normal a life as possible behind the scenes. He trusted Sawyer wasn’t the type to run off to the tabloids, but his mother’s media training was second nature to him at this point, and he couldn’t resist the urge to smooth it over.

“I love my family. I do. It’s just—sometimes, I can’t tell if I really did luck into having the perfect family or if it’s just a role we were all coached into playing.” So much for smoothing it over. They were well past surface level at this point. It was more honest than he’d ever been, even inside his own head. The night they met, he thought it was just the anonymous one-night-stand effect that had put him so at ease around her, but at Kuma’s and now, his usual filter continued to malfunction. “Anyway…” He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. He really didn’t want to get into his complicated family dynamics and ruin their day.

Thankfully, it seemed Sawyer was also pointedly avoiding…something, and glossed over it without missing a beat.

“That’s showbiz, baby,” Sawyer said in what Mason assumed was her best showman voice.

He fixed her with a look before flinging open the car door and unfolding himself. The crisp air filled his lungs, and he smiled. Half the time, the city made him hate the snow and long for sunny LA winters. But outside the city, where evergreen branches were dusted with fluffy white powder, happy little trees befitting a Bob Ross painting, it wasn’t so bad.

A violent shudder rattled Sawyer’s petite frame as they shuffled forward in the queue to buy their tree. “The thing Hallmark doesn’t prepare you for is freezing your fucking tits off.”

Mason choked on a laugh, shrugging out of his coat and draping it over her shoulders.

She frowned, reluctantly burrowing into its warmth. The way she inhaled his scent from the fabric awoke something in him he was having a hard time stifling.

“For the record, I’m only allowing this cliché gesture because, one: I’m cold,” she said. “And two: you’re an idiot for giving up your coat when wind chill is in the single digits, and I’m hoping this will break you of your romantic tendencies.”

He was about to point out that it wasn’t that cold today, but then a gust of wind stole all his body heat. But fuck if he was going to admit she was right. Gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering, he forced a grin. “Why be pragmatic when you can be romantic?”

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