Page 9 of Delicious
Yes
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I spot Mason at the gates outside the Musée Rodin, and my heart stutters. He looks sogood. He’s wearing dark jeans that are just this side of too tight and a Henley shirt under a leather jacket. His glossy hair shines in the sun, and he’s bouncing like Tigger on his black Chucks. While clouds are gathering in the distance, and it will probably rain later, right now the day is gorgeous. Between getting the food poisoning out of my system, resting, and bathing, I feel like a new man. Or at least closer to the man I was forty-eight hours ago.
“Hi,” I say, a tad breathless.
“Hi.” Mason grins at me. “I already bought our tickets.”
“I can pay you back,” I offer, but he holds up his hand and I decide to give in. “Then thanks. I appreciate it. I also appreciate you leaving money for breakfast, but you didn’t have to.”
“I didn’t want to be a mooch, and since you were too out of it to ask…” He shrugs, and I push him lightly with my shoulder.
We walk past the gates and stop to look around. The museum is a large, two-story home with a park around it. Statuary figures pose throughout the grounds, along with topiaries, benches, and hardscaping. There’s also a tea garden in the back, with café tables and a place to purchase refreshments. It’s tranquil and exactly the soothing excursion my recovering body needs. Fresh air, but sedate.
“This place is perfect,” I murmur as my travel-blog brain takes notes. I take photos, too, trying to sneak Mason into a few.
The best part, though, is being with Mason. I’m so used to sightseeing on my own that it’s very different for me to have to think of another person’s pace, but Mason’s a great companion. He doesn’t chatter loudly, he’s engaged, and he points out interesting things that are written on the descriptions of the statues. We gravitate toward each other, not holding hands or anything, but never too far apart.
When we get back outside after checking out the house, I’m feeling a bit tired, and I look for a place to rest for a moment. “Do you mind if we sit?” I ask. “Sorry. Maybe I overestimated how good I’m feeling.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m amazed you’re doing as well as you are.”
I figured he wouldn’t make fun of me, but I’m still happy that he agrees easily. We find a bench in the garden next to a statue of some standing man.
“I feel like I’m a hundred years old,” I complain as I slump down, pulling a tin of mints out of my pocket. I offer him one, and he accepts. There aren’t very many people around, and this place feels like a private park. It’s verdant and very pretty.
“Most people would be staying in bed. This is a ‘down’ day for you, but it’s a rather active one.”
A meow sounds below us, and a little cat rubs up against my legs. It’s mostly white, with a few blotches of black fur along its flank. There’s a tan patch, too, randomly on its head. I reach down and scratch behind its ears. “Hey there,” I say.
Mason reaches down to pet it, and it hangs out for a moment, then wanders away. He grins at me. “I think you made a friend.”
I look at him. He’s just so … comforting. He’s a cozy blanket in human form. I lean over and kiss him lightly on the lips. Then I realize what I’m doing, and I startle and push up my glasses. “Sorry. Um. I didn’t mean—”
He waggles his finger at me. “Don’t you dare take that back. I’ve been waiting to kiss you again for ten years.”
“You have?” God, my voice sounds wistful.
Mason nods. “But can I make it a little better? A kiss without the element of surprise?”
I grin and nod, and now he’s leaning into me, minty breath on my lips. While we’re in a public garden, it feels secluded, topiaries and trees sheltering us. I open my mouth, and he takes the invitation, sliding his tongue inside.
And now the kiss goes wild, just like it did when we were teenagers. That kiss ten years ago started out one way but morphed into something more. This one’s doing the same—started sweet but is changing into something dirty. Something very hot. Something my body is on board for… tentatively.
He groans and breaks away. “Fuck.”
I blink, dazed. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re in public, and you’re not feeling well…”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I’m taking it easy as a precaution—mostly—but I’m feeling so much better.” I glance down at my feet, then look back at him. “Although… maybe we’re done with sculptures for the day. Because all I want to do is keep kissing you.”
He nods vigorously, his curls bouncing, and I laugh.
“Where do you want to go?” I ask.
“My place. If that’s okay,” he adds hastily.
