Page 41 of Unromance

The wind picked up, sneaking under her coat, and she shivered, leaning into Mason’s warmth automatically as he rang the doorbell.

“It’s open!” a voice called.

Mason removed his hand from her lower back just long enough to open the door, guiding her with him across the threshold. He placed the handful of presents at the base of the tree before helping her out of her coat. As he hung it in the hall closet, a little boy came careening into the entryway.

“Uncle Mason! Uncle Mason!” he screamed.

Mason scooped the kid into his arms, making the little boy squeal as he tickled his middle. Sawyer took the moment to take in the house. The foyer was predominantly devoted to the tree, but beyond it, there was a living room best described as a study in white. Sawyer couldn’t fathom owning a white couch. She’d ruin it in a day. Minutes, probably.

The sounds of laughter and cooking flowed out from a door to their left. Luis appeared in the entryway, wearing an apron and furiously whisking something in a bowl. At the sight of his dad, the little boy squirmed out of Mason’s arms and made a beeline for the kitchen.

Luis yelled something after the boy in Spanish before turning back to them. “Sawyer!” He greeted her warmly as Mason tucked her shoes into the closet next to his. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks, man,” Mason joked.

Luis frowned. “Didn’t you wear that last year?”

Mason glanced down at his clothes helplessly. “You cannot win in this family,” he muttered under his breath to Sawyer.

She grinned, leaning in and air-kissing Luis on the cheek. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course!” Luis said, like they were old friends and not strangers who had met yesterday. But Luis was one of those people who made you feel instantly comfortable. “C’mon,” he said with a jerk of his head. She fell into step beside him, bypassing the kitchen and through the living room to… a second living room?

Luis paused, face screwing up as he spotted Mason following them. “What are you doing? Suit up.” He handed Mason the bowl of cream he’d been whipping and eased the fancy cheese from Sawyer’s grasp, handing it to Mason as well. “Your dad just started the stuffing.”

Mason’s eyes darted to hers, as if asking for her permission to leave her alone, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Luis.

“I got this one,” Luis said, all but shooing Mason out of the room. Turning back to Sawyer, he grinned, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Let’s get you a drink before introductions. One outsider to another—” He lowered his voice. “This family is best with a drink or two in you.”

Sawyer nodded knowingly. “Ah. My family is the same—but with a drink and also a few hundred miles.”

Luis laughed knowingly, coming to a stop in front of the bar. “I get that completely. I’ve been spending the holidays with the Wests since I was sixteen because my family is…” He trailed off, staring at the wall.

Sawyer understood without him saying anything. Her mother and pastor father hadn’t spoken to her in years. It was easier for everyone if she stayed gone. Luis blinked, turning back on his million-watt smile. “The Wests are great,” he clarified. “They’re—well, you’re a writer, so you’ll know what I mean when I say they’recharacters.”

She grinned wickedly. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Matching her grin, Luis grabbed a bottle from the back bar. “Mason said you prefer whiskey? And two ice cubes but only if they’re square?” he asked, as if unsure he remembered that correctly.

She nodded in confirmation, her throat suddenly too tight to speak. She really had to stop getting emotional over ice cube shapes.

Luis broke the paper seal over the brand-new bottle before pulling the cork out. Jesus Christ. Had they really gone out and bought a bottle for her? He portioned a healthy amount into a rocks glass and popped two ice cubes into it before picking up a bottle of tequila and pouring a shot for himself. “Cheers,” he said conspiratorially.

She clinked her glass against his and took a small sip as he tossed back his shot.

Luis gestured for her to follow him, talking over his shoulder as they walked toward the adjoining dining room, decked to the nines in Christmas decorations, each place setting complete with a unique ornament. This was some HGTV-level hosting shit Sawyer was wholly unaccustomed to. “—and the red salsa is gringo-safe spicy, but proceed with caution around the green one. Okay.” He clapped his hands together. “I gotta get back to cooking, so I’ll let Mason give you the tour later, whenever the two of you need to sneak off.”

“Oh, we’re not together,” Sawyer insisted good-naturedly.

Luis raised his eyebrows. “I know,” he said, but it sounded likeSure, bud.

As they rounded the corner, Sawyer nearly tripped over her feet. She didn’t cook, but if she had a kitchen like this, she would learn.

The island alone was as big as her apartment’s galley kitchen. A massive slab of quartz with veins of gold running through it matched the tile behind the stove and counters. Mason was chatting with an attractive older man that could only be his father, bothwearing aprons that matched the one Luis wore. Luis wandered over to inspect the stove, and as the four women occupying the plush barstools fixed their attention on her, Sawyer took a large gulp of her drink.

At the lull in conversation, Mason looked up, snapping to her side like a magnet.

“Everyone, this is Sawyer. Sawyer, my mom, Moira—” He gestured to a beautiful older woman with white-blond hair and Mason’s eyes—though hers were an icy blue to Mason’s warm brown. Sawyer sent up a prayer that she aged half as gracefully.

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