Page 100 of Hypnotized By Love

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

“My mom is going to visit her sister in Orlando,” Mason said on our phone call, a week after our public debut.

“Is she?”

“Yep. And I’m going to be here all alone.”

“That sounds tragic,” I said.

“So I was thinking that maybe you could come over, like at seven o’clock, and I would make you dinner. What do you think?”

I thought it would take an actual herd of wild horses to keep me away from him, because I understood what he was asking. A romantic dinner with no possible interruptions. I would tell him that I loved him, and I supposed we’d see how slow he wanted to take things then.

“Maybe I could bring dessert,” I said.

There was a long pause, and I wished more than anything that I could see his face so that I could judge his reaction for myself.

“If you’re offering what I think you’re offering, you’re far more savory than sweet.”

“You like savory desserts.”

“You’re right. Come over right now.”

I laughed and said, “I’ll see you at seven o’clock.”

“On time, Sinclair,” he growled, as if he couldn’t wait a minute past that.

“I’m always punctual,” I reminded him and then told him goodbye. This time when I got ready, I put on the good, matching underwear.

When I got to Mason’s place, he opened the door before I could even knock, pulling me into a hungry kiss that left me completely dizzy and breathless.

“Do we have to have dinner?” I asked.

“I worked hard on it,” he said. “Good things come to those who wait. Besides, there’s something I want to show you.”

“I heard. That’s why I came over.”

He laughed and took me into the living room. His laptop was on the coffee table. “Have a seat.”

“This isn’t going to be something weird, is it?” I asked, sitting down cautiously.

“No. I was thinking the other day about that guy who filed a false claim against you.”

“Timothy?”

“Yeah. And how he was making multiple accounts to give you bad ratings. I’d bet good money that cretin never bothered to try to hide his IP address and that if we get somebody on the other end to look into it, they’ll see that all the reviews are coming from the same person.”

“Your plan tonight was to help me?”

“Of course,” he said before kissing me. “Your fight is my fight, Sinclair.” A timer buzzed in the kitchen. “I’ll be right back, and then we’ll get to work on uncovering this troll.”

I watched him leave and felt an indescribable joy, a happiness that was beyond anything I’d ever experienced before. I felt so incredibly lucky to have him back in my life.

As if a piece of me had been missing for a long time and I’d just found it.

His laptop dinged, and I glanced at the screen. I noticed a folder in the center labeled “Sinclair.” What was that for?

The article, maybe? Or something else?

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