Page 61 of Fallen Hearts

“Listen, we all know the rules. You either abide by them or pay the piper.”

“Who needs another beer?” Beck asked, heading to the fridge. I lifted my arm up. Might as well get good and toasted while the inn was empty. Tomorrow was going to be one hell of a day, no matter how it went with Pia.

Halfway through another beer, I wondered what Pia was thinking. What she was doing. Fuck it. Why wait until tomorrow? I picked up my phone.

“He has that look,” Beck said.

I ignored him.

Sent the text.

Where are you?

Took another swig of beer.

Waited.

Looked at my phone.

Finally, an agonizing five minutes later, she texted back.

I’m home. Why?

Can I come over? We need to talk.

Another wait, though this one wasn’t as long.

And it was just one word.

Sure.

21

PIA

Since my apartment wasn’t huge, I’d been able to pace the length of it at least four dozen times since Mason texted.

The last thing in the world I expected was for him to ask to come over. After last night, we’d hardly spoken. Fleeing the inn the first chance I got, which hadn’t gone unnoticed by my sister, I had said goodbye to my mother and Sophia and spent the rest of the day trying to recalibrate.

As I waited for him now, the same thoughts that had run through my head all afternoon flitted by again and again. He liked me. But not enough. I liked him, probably too much. He might not be staying, and for that matter, I might not either. So much uncertainty, but I’d already decided not to worry about things I couldn’t control. I came here to do my best possible work and turn Heritage Hill around, and that was what I would do.

Except, the new owner had my head spinning nearly twenty-four seven.

And that kiss? There was zero chance I’d be able to get that out of my head anytime soon. I looked down at my phone for the hundredth time since he’d first texted, just as a knock at my door nearly made me drop the phone.

I thought about changing but didn’t want to look like I’d tried too hard, so leggings and an oversized sweatshirt was how I’d kept it. With a French vanilla candle burning in the living room and the lights down low, as I liked them, it looked like I was planning a seduction in here.

I wasn’t. Mostly. Mason had made it clear the boss/employee line was one he didn’t want to cross. So then what was the talk about? Clearing the air between us so it wasn’t awkward? Might be a bit late for that.

I opened the door. A jeans and sweater-wearing Mason with just enough scruff to make him look even more menacing—and sexy—than usual filled the doorframe completely.

“Come on in,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure.” He closed the door behind him. “So this is your abode?”

“It’s small,” I said, heading to the kitchen. “And needs more decorating. But it’s convenient. Maybe a little too convenient with the coffee shop downstairs. I know you don’t drink wine but?—”

“I do,” he said. “Here and there. I’ll take whatever you’re drinking.”

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