Page 84 of Sapphire Spring

“Stay longer next time,” Mason said.

“And call first,” Naser added.

Then Logan and Connor were gone, and Naser was standinginside the closed front door listening to their chatter as they departed.

Naser couldn’t manage a deep breath until he heard what hethought was either Logan’s truck or Connor’s Mercedes. Whichever car they’dbrought, they must have parked it outside the guard gate, maybe as far away asthe public lot, and he’d cruised right past it on his way in.

From one of the counter stools, Mason watched Naser’s everymove with an amused smile on his face. “That was fun.”

“One way of putting it.” Trying—and failing—to steady hishands, Naser put all the cartons of food out on the counter, then he fetchedplates and bowls from the cabinets. Three days in Mason’s house and he alreadyknew the kitchen like the back of his hand.

“You’re embarrassed?”

“Mortified.” Naser removed more utensils than he needed fromthe drawers in front of him, avoiding Mason’s stare.

“Want to talk about it?”

“What did they say? Before I got here, I mean.”

“Nothing I wouldn’t expect them togiven…ourhistory.” Mason was looking down at the little steeple he was unmaking andremaking with his fingers. “I guess it won’t be the last, either.”

“The last? What do you mean?” Naser’s hands froze where he’djust removed a plastic lid from a carton ofghormehsabzi. He knew exactly what Mason meant but didn’t want to say it himself.

“You know…” Mason was struggling now. “If we keep doingthis, I guess that won’t be the last meeting that goes kind of like that.”

They were already talking about meeting friends andfamily?This was all Connor’s fault. Connor was the reasonthe wordsBleachers Guywere still ringing in his ears. “Connor shouldn’thave done that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to rush you into a sit-down withmy dad.”

Feeling his own smile like he might a plastic mask, Naserreturned his attention to the food, started plating, and was about to launchinto some distracting lecture on the intricacies of Persian cuisine when Masonrose and started toward him around the island. But he stopped short, worried,it seemed, about getting in the way of Naser’s increasingly frenzied work. “Youshouldn’t be embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

I’m afraid. Afraid the reality of your personal lifewill eventually destroy this blissful, lustful fantasy we’ve been living forseventy-two hours.

“Nothing wrong with having protective friends,” Mason said.

Ah ha, an opening, Naser thought. “What about yourfriends?” A thread of rice snaked along the counter in front of him. He musthave dribbled it while ladling the stew into one of the serving bowls. He wasabout to clean it up when Mason suddenly did the job for him, with a paper towelhe’d swiped in record time.

“What about them?” Mason’s tightly coiled voice didn’t matchhis generous, split-second act of assistance.

“Are they protective too?”

Mason tossed the waded-up paper towel into the trash. “Whywould they need to be? I don’t need protecting. I need improving, remember?”

“Did I say that? I didn’t say that.”

Mason turned, gripping the counter on either side of hisbutt. If Mason played poker, he probably lost every game—disappointment and adesire to please had given him puppy dog eyes and a not-so-subtle pout. “Youdon’t need to say it. It’s the truth. It’smytruth. It’s what I’mliving right now. I didn’t mean it to sound like I was…pissedabout it.”

“Okay, I just… I don’t know.”

“Nas, I feel like there’s a momenthere that I missed.”

We’re both trying like hell not to talk about ChadwickBrody,Naser thought.That’s the moment.

“Nas, could you stop with the foodfor a second and maybe look at me?”

His tone was gentle and cautious, and still Naser froze asif a gun had gone off right behind his head. He set down the serving spoon,summoned all the courage he had, and looked Mason in the eye.

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