Page 3 of Love, Clumsily
The smile that spread across his face was like watching the sun come out. “Tonight? I mean, if you’re free? There’s a decent place in town—Sullivan’s—unless you’d prefer something else? Or another night? Or never mind, this is probably too—”
“Mason,” I interrupted his spiral gently. “Sullivan’s sounds perfect. Tonight sounds perfect. Seven o’clock?”
He nodded, seeming almost dazed by his own success. “Seven. Yes. I’ll be there. I’ll try not to knock over any tables.”
“I’d appreciate that,” I said, pushing off from the tree. As I moved past him to continue my walk, I caught that scent again—earthy and wild, with something underneath I couldn’t identify. “See you tonight.”
I felt his eyes on me as I walked away and resisted the urge to put a little extra sway in my step. Barely.
Chapter 2
Sullivan’s was the closest thing Pine Haven had to fine dining, which meant the tablecloths were actual cloth and the menu included at least three dishes I couldn’t pronounce. I arrived five minutes early and was shown to a table in the corner.
At exactly 7:00, the door opened, and Mason ducked to enter—literally ducked, because the man was a giant and apparently standard doorways were a challenge. He scanned the restaurant, and when his eyes found me, his whole face lit up.
He navigated through the tables with careful precision, clearly concentrating on not knocking anything over. He was dressed in dark jeans that hugged his powerful thighs and a deep blue button-up that strained slightly across his chest and shoulders. His hair looked like he’d attempted to style it but had given up halfway through.
He was breathtaking.
“Hi,” he said, sliding into the seat across from me with surprising grace. “You look amazing.”
I glanced down at my own outfit—a gray button-up with subtle texture, sleeves rolled to my elbows, and my best dark jeans. “Thanks. So do you.”
“This shirt is too small,” he confessed, tugging at the collar. “I don’t usually dress up, and apparently I’ve gotten… bigger since the last time I wore this.”
Bigger how?I wondered, my mind immediately going places it shouldn’t in a public restaurant.
“It looks good on you,” I assured him. “Very… fitted.”
He laughed, relaxing slightly. “That’s a polite way of saying I look like I’m about to Hulk out of my clothes.”
“I wouldn’t complain if you did,” I said, surprising myself with my boldness.
A flush crept up his neck, and he cleared his throat, looking both pleased and flustered. “So, um, how are you liking Pine Haven so far?”
The conversation flowed easily after that. I told him about my escape from city life and my terminally boring ex. He told me he’d lived in Pine Haven his whole life, except for college, and now worked remotely as a software developer. He was close with his family, who lived just outside town, and had a small circle of tight-knit friends he’d known forever.
What struck me most was the contrast between his physical presence and his demeanor. He occupied space like someone twice his already considerable size, drawing eyes from around the restaurant, but he spoke softly and listened intently, like he was afraid of taking up too much space in the conversation.
And there were odd moments—when the waiter dropped a tray in the kitchen and Mason tensed before the crash even happened, or when he commented on the mint in my water before I’d even noticed it was there. Once, he stopped mid-sentence and turned toward the door seconds before it opened.
By dessert, I was both thoroughly charmed and completely convinced that there was something unusual about Mason Holloway.
“So,” I said, as we lingered over coffee, “are you going to tell me?”
He froze, cup halfway to his lips. “Tell you what?”
“Whatever it is you’re hiding.” I leaned forward. “You have this whole mysterious vibe going on. Very intriguing.”
He set his cup down carefully. “I’m not… I don’t know what you mean.”
“Mason,” I said gently, “you’ve been holding back all evening. Every time the conversation gets too personal, you redirect. You’re hyperaware of everything around us—sounds, smells, movements. And you keep looking at me like…” I trailed off, not sure how to describe the intensity in his gaze.
“Like what?” he asked, his voice dropping lower.
Like you want to devour me,I thought.
“Like there’s something you want to say but can’t,” I said instead.
