Fuck expensive roses. Mason was all about making sure he staked his claim in a more memorable way. Whether Katrina knew it or not, she was his. And he was going to do everything in his power to prove it.
Chapter Ten
Katrina walked into her apartment and set her purse and keys on the small table by the door, then headed into her bedroom to change out of the dress and boots she’d worn to work. It had been a long, busy day, and it hadn’t helped matters that every time she’d seen the vase of roses sitting on the front counter she’d thought about Blake’s job offer. No doubt, that had been his intent.
And then there was Mason and his strange behavior. He’d arrived at the shop in a good mood, with her favorite breakfast items in hand, and it had felt like a peace offering between them, which she’d welcomed. And even though he’d seen the flowers and asked very nicely about her date with Blake, she’d wished that he’d exhibited even a small amount of jealousy. Something, anything, to give her some kind of indication that he might have more than just best friend feelings for her.
“And if he did, then what?” she muttered to herself as she sat on the bed, unlaced her boots, and pulled them off. Mason didn’t know the meaning of monogamous, and she was a one-man kind of woman. End of story.
After slipping out of her dress and bra, she put on a soft, cotton camisole and a pair of comfortable sleep shorts, then padded into the kitchen to make something for dinner. She opened the refrigerator and perused the meager contents. Geez, she should have stopped at the grocery store on the way home. Or at least picked up some kind of takeout.
“Okay, scrambled eggs it is,” she said to herself since her choices were limited. Just as she started to reach into the fridge to grab the carton, the doorbell rang.
She headed back to the entryway and looked through the peephole and saw Mason standing on the other side—reminiscent of that last night in Vegas when he’d come to her room. The memory of what had happened once she’d let him inside made her traitorous heart flutter. She had no idea what he was doing there, or what he wanted, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that he was there. He had to have seen her car parked in her spot.
When she opened the door, she was greeted with the delicious aroma from the pizza box he was holding in one hand, which was from their favorite pizzeria. In his other hand, he was carrying a paper sack from the grocery store.
The savory scent of the pie made her stomach growl, and he grinned, even as he blatantly took in her camisole and shorts with a heated gaze that made her breasts tingle. “Sausage, mushroom, and olives,” he said, indicating he’d brought a pizza with her favorite toppings. “I hope you haven’t eaten dinner yet.”
This wasn’t the first time he’d showed up at her place unannounced and with food, and it just felt so . . . normal. Like old times, and she couldn’t resist—even as she wondered why he was there after a week and a half of tension between them.
Stepping back, she let him into her apartment, then led the way to the kitchen. “Actually, you saved me from a boring meal of scrambled eggs. That pizza smells amazing.”
He placed the cardboard box on the counter, along with the grocery bag, then began taking things out of the sack. “Here’s some root beer to wash it all down with, and some Ben and Jerry’s Salted Caramel Core ice cream to go with the movie I rented from Redbox for us to watch,” he said as he put the pint into the freezer.
She leaned back against the counter, suddenly feeling . . . overwhelmed. And so confused. This scenario was like a flashback to some of the best times she’d spent with Mason—eating pizza, then gorging on her favorite ice cream while watching a scary flick. Which had always included cuddling with him on the couch because she had a love/hate relationship with thrillers and inevitably clung to Mason during the gory parts, or buried her face against his neck.
But all that had been before, and now she didn’t know what to make of all this. And his changed behavior. Especially after how strained things had been between them for the past week and a half.
“Mason, what are you doing here?” she blurted out.
He set the plates that he’d just taken down from the cupboard on the counter, then walked toward her, the territorial gleam in his blue eyes making her pulse race. Everything seemed to change in that moment—his cheerful demeanor shifting to something far more arousing.
When he reached her, he braced his hands on either side of where she was standing and leaned in close enough for her breasts to brush across his chest—making her shiver and her nipples tighten almost painfully.
“I’m staking my claim, Kitty-Kat,” he said, his words as possessive as the rumbling sound of his voice. “That’s what I’m doing here.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it, stunned by his words. She’d been expecting him to say something along the lines of “I’m here to get our friendship back on track,” not that he planned to pursue her or stake his claim. While her body was willing to let him mark her however he pleased, her heart and min
d were far more practical about his declaration.
“I don’t want to be your convenient fuck buddy,” she said, hating the hint of doubt that crept into her voice, but she couldn’t help how she felt. “Or be another notch on your belt.”
“That’s not what I want, either. I swear it. I want you. Only you,” he said as he placed his hands on her waist and pressed his hips to hers. He flashed her a charming grin that belied the sudden hint of nerves in his gaze. “And to prove it, I’m getting a brand new belt with your name on it, and while I definitely want to fuck you again, it won’t be as your buddy.”
She swallowed hard as she tried to digest everything, especially the fact that he was implying that he wanted them to be an exclusive couple, when Mason didn’t do relationships. Ever.
She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand . . . ”
“I’m having a hard time understanding all this, too,” he admitted honestly. “But there is one thing I know with absolute certainty, and that is that I can’t stand the thought of another man touching you. Not after everything that happened in Vegas. You went out with Blake last night, and I was so fucking miserable and jealous it nearly gave me an ulcer. And then those goddamn flowers that I had to look at all day today . . . ” His words trailed off and he clenched his jaw in irritation. “I assume Blake sent them?”
She nodded. “Yes.” But what Mason didn’t know was that the note Blake had attached hadn’t been romantic at all, but rather a nice message about how he hoped she’d become a part of the Cavanaugh and Zimmerman team.
Mason frowned at her, and his hands tightened on her waist. “If Blake had been around, I can guarantee that we would have come to blows over you, and I would have won.”
She looked at him in surprise. “I had no idea you were jealous.”
His expression turned adorably sheepish. “Because I was trying not to be an asshole about the situation, and it was damn hard.” He stared into her eyes, his gaze searching hers. “Just tell me one thing. Do I need to be worried or jealous about Blake?”