Page 37 of Hot Ice, Tennessee

I grabbed the bag of food and got out. My shoes crunched on the gravel drive and the cicadas were in full swing again, and I could also hear the repetitive sound of a metal shovel hitting dirt somewhere nearby. The curved lawn out front was freshly cut and impossibly green, and the air smelled like it.

I rang the front doorbell on the porch, waited a minute, then rang it again. When I realized nobody was inside I turned and followed the long, curved stone path that led to the side of the house, under a canopy of trees.

The yard overlooked the stables on one side, and the far-off mountain ridges on the other. Various dirt riding paths cut through more tall oaks. The yard itself was landscaped with shrubs, pink and yellow flowers, and an herb garden, which I wondered if Mason ever used.

I spotted what was making the shoveling sound after rounding the corner of the house.

Mason was there with a shovel in his hands, shirtless and wearing grey work pants. He was leveling out a sizable patch of dirt. The sun radiated down, highlighting his tan skin and the golden parts of his hair, making him look like a rugged, fallen angel, hard at work.

Desire curled through me the moment my eyes landed on him.

“Finn?” he asked, dragging his shovel over the dirt again. “I thought my massage appointment was tomorrow—”

He turned fully to see me then, doing a quick double take. His eyes hit mine. There was no turning back now.

Here goes nothing.

I held up the bag of food, shaking it in the air. “I brought you something.”

“You’re not Finn,” he said.

His brow furrowed.

After last night—and after reading thatbitchof an article—I’d half expected him to come right to my arms for a hug when I showed up.

That… definitely wasn’t happening.

“Not Finn. Sorry to disappoint,” I told him, pausing across the yard from him.

I bit the inside of my cheek as I felt a little sweat come down the center of my back.

Yeah. He was surprised to see me. Maybe even a little standoffish at the idea of me showing up unannounced. Even from here I could see circles beneath his eyes, and his hair was messy like he’d just woken up. Maybe Kane was right about him taking a nap.

…And maybe I was stupid to show up at a man’s house out of nowhere.

A man who I barely knew, even if I’d felt some strange connection to him for one night.

Not your brightest idea ever, Sanocki.

Mason shoved the tip of the shovel into the dirt beside him, leaning on it and dragging his boot through the dirt before looking back up at me.

“I like the pink,” he finally said.

His eyes landed on my chest and then my forearms. I was wearing a light pink button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up—I’d wanted to look good for the first day of classes, even though there was no real need for it.

My shoes sank softly into the lush grass as I crossed over the lawn. Closer toward the house, there was a big, fancy stainless steel grill under an awning. The shimmering blue of a curved pool glinted in the sun, and there was a fire pit over on that end, too.

Mason had his own little resort paradise back here.

“Who’s Finn?” I asked, stepping onto the dirt patch where he was standing.

His baby blues landed on me, watching me close. “My friend.”

I held up a hand. “Alright, alright. Not going to pry.”

“He’s a massage therapist. Helps out with the horses most mornings around 6, too, when I’m still sleeping.”

“I can pretend to be him,” I offered, trying for a joke. “Want a massage?”

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