“I swear you are insane. I was calling to check up on Puck. You haven’t forwarded any cute pictures to me in days.”

I pull up the photo app and forward several of them to her.

“Whew. Proof of life. Also, that spiky collar is hilarious. Thank you. When I didn’t get any pictures, I was afraid maybe his dog walker had kidnapped him and was holding him for ransom and you were too heartbroken to tell me.”

I squint at the phone in disbelief. “Now who’s paranoid? Okay, I have to make a work call. Are we still on for coffee tomorrow? Awesome, love your face, and sometimes your personality. Bye.” I hang up before she has the chance to move on to grilling me about Mason and suggesting that he has big feels for me, which she seems to be pretty obsessed about these days. She doesn’t like hockey, but she does like the idea of me dating someone, and he is undeniably hot.

And undeniably bad news.

Sighing, I grab my work phone and call Mason.

“Hello, evil nemesis, bane of my existence. Where are you right now?” I ask.

“I’m in bed. It’s lonely. Care to join me?”

“One idiotic kiss in a closet does not mean I want you to add my name to the notches on your hockey stick, but thank you for the thought. Why are you in bed right now?”

“I was up most of last night because Puck ate something that disagreed with him.”

“Sorry to hear that. You need to get up and come meet me at the office.”

Puck yaps in the background. Mason yawns. “Intriguing. Why would I do that?”

“Because I am a damsel in distress, and I need your help.”

That earns me a laugh. “You, a damsel in distress? Please put the real Rowan on the phone.”

“Are you coming or not?” I say impatiently.

“Fiiiine.” He lets out a groan. “I’ll be there in an hour, and you owe me. We’ll discuss the forms of payment I accept when get there. None of them are monetary.” He hangs up on me.

Despite my stress over the whole RSVP thing, I am smiling as I push my chair away from the desk. I spin the chair around a few times like a little kid, which makes me dizzy.

I stop and leap to my feet. I start pacing the room, restless energy buzzing through my veins.

I want him to come here in person because I am planning on having him help me make more calls to wheedle more celebrities and billionaires into RSVPing for the event. Also, I want to talk to him face to face about the weird call from the person who might or might not be his mother. That’s something I’d rather discuss in person than over the phone.

It’s all strictly business.

So why am I acting like a giddy schoolgirl? Why does the thought of having him visit me here in the office give me such a high?

I close my eyes. So I have a little tiny bit of an inappropriate crush on Mason Raker, who is the lust object of every heterosexual woman on the planet Earth, and who is also a known heartbreaker, and also my client.

It doesn’t matter in the slightest. I am never going to act on that crush. I am a mature professional with steely willpower.

No, you’re not, three empty boxes of Rovers chocolates whisper to me from my garbage can.

20

MASON

As I stalkinto the elevator on the ground floor of the building, heading up to Queensby, I’m scowling in annoyance, still huffy about what Rowan said to me half an hour ago.

Idiotic kiss?

Did she actually call it that?

That moment has replayed in my head again and again, when I’m asleep and when I’m awake, ever since that night in the closet with her.