Page 38 of Hot Ice, Tennessee

Mason clicked his tongue, leaning on the end of his shovel. “Nice try.”

His chest was broad and glistening with sweat from his work. His nipples hardened as a breeze went by, and I tried not to stare.

“What’s with the shovel?” I asked, nodding at the dirt.

“Oh. It’s hot tub time,” Mason said. “I’ve been putting off clearing a spot for one. God, something smells good. What is that?”

“Well, I brought you a sandwich and a cinnamon roll from Red Fox,” I said, “but now I’m wondering if that was the wrong idea.”

His expression softened a little, and he nodded down at the bag, surprised. “That’s nice of you.”

“Listen, I was at the diner and I saw that shitty fucking article, and—”

Mason waved me off, standing up straight again and grabbing the shovel. He pitched it into the dirt, slamming it harder than before.

“Don’t tell me Kane sent you with food because he was worried about me.”

“No,Igot you lunch,” I said. “Because that article was bullshit, and because I wanted to bring you food. It’s just lunch. It’s no big deal.”

“Just a dumb newspaper.”

“But it’s okay to be pissed or hurt about it,” I said. “The shit that guy said about you. Do you even know who he is? Does he even knowyou?”

He furrowed his brow, looking off toward the far-off mountains and then back at me. “I’ve met him. Many times. Dad used to have him over for dinner here sometimes. I always thought of him like an uncle, growing up, but now he’s just an asshole.”

“Kind of makes me want to go find him and punch him,” I said.

He kept leveling out the dirt patch as I stood there. I watched his biceps and torso strain with the exertion, as he channeled all of his frustration into physical labor.

He finally stopped, taking a deep breath and pushing the shovel back into the earth.

“That’s really nice of you, Jesse. And bringing the food, too. Thank you.”

My stomach hardened. “Okay. I’m gonna drop this on the table and go. Thought you might want company, but I can see that you don’t.”

“It’s not that, Jesse.”

“Hey. I like lone-wolfing it. I’m not going to judge,” I told him as I began to walk off.

He leaned his head back, looking up at the blue sky then back at me. “Wait.”

I turned back toward him. “What’s up?”

“I really don’t feel like being alone right now. I’m just… fine, Iampissed. I’m pissed about the article, and I thought I could shove it all away and throw a party here tonight to make me forget it. I wasn’t expecting anyone to see me like this.”

I furrowed my brow. “See you likewhat?Hot, shirtless, looking like a fucking poster-perfect cowboy in the sun?”

For the first time his expression broke into a smile. “I’m a disheveled mess. Inside and out.”

I puffed out a laugh. “There’s a reason people call you ahotmess, though. You still look good even when you’re struggling. And you don’t have to hide that. Not from me, at least.”

He studied me. “Why do you give a damn?”

“About you?”

“About a random guy you met in a bar?”

I shrugged. “Because talking to you was the most fun I’ve had in years, probably. Because usually I’d rather disappear than have to make conversation with strangers, but I found myself enjoying every moment of it last night. Maybe that’s just a normal, everyday occurrence for you, but it isn’t for me.”

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