Resolution (Mason Family 5)

Holt nods in agreement, a frown on his face. “I feel so fucking awful for him.”

I hang my head, fiddling with my fingers. I don’t like to talk about this kind of shit. I’d rather jab my eye with one of Rosie’s crayons.

“Maybe this godparent situation will make him feel like he’s a part of the family,” Holt says. “I think that’s what Coy is going for. They’ve gotten really close.”

Boone crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine. I agree. But one of you better have a kid then and let me be the godparent.”

I turn and head for the door.

“Want to have a kid, Wade?” Boone teases. “I’ll let you borrow Rosie for the night.”

“Fuck off,” I say over my shoulder, much to my brother’s amusement. “Bye, Holt.”

“Goodbye.”

I hurry down the hallway and enter the elevator before Rosie can see me. I just don’t have the energy to peel her off me again.

The buttons light up, and I select the parking level and then relax against the glass. A little pink sticker that’s stuck about Rosie-level shines from just below the buttons. The color jolts my memory and takes me back to this morning.

And to the errant puppy.

Then to Dara Alden and her insinuation that I’m not the best architect around.

Damn her, anyway.

SEVEN

DARA

“This is a great shot,” I say, taking a second to appreciate my handiwork.

I fiddle with the image a bit more. It’s a shot with the groom and his two best friends from a wedding I worked on a few weeks ago. Their arms are over each other’s shoulders, and a bottle of Corona is hanging from one of their hands. Faces lit up in smiles like someone just told a joke. The golden hour casts the perfect glow on their handsome faces.

The wedding was amazing. It was the kind of celebration that I always pictured for myself. The white tents were filled with delicious food and raucous laughter. Revelers danced until the wee hours of the morning. The music didn’t stop—random explosions of confetti and sparklers didn’t wane—until the closest neighbor a mile away finally complained at three o’clock in the morning.

“There. That’s perfect.” I stop editing the picture and pause to get a better look. “They’re going to love these.”

I reach for another baby carrot on my snack plate when my phone rings. I clamp a hand over the back of my neck—tense and stiff from the past four hours of edits—and answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Guess what?” Rusti squeals. “Don’t guess. I’m not going to wait that long because I can’t wait that long to tell you my news. So, guess what? Zack called.”

Her enthusiasm is a little much, especially for news that I already expected would happen. Of course, Zack called. Zack is an opportunist. There’s no way he doesn’t know how into him Rusti is, and Rusti is a catch by all accounts.

I recline in my chair. “He did? When?”

“Now. Just a minute ago. He wants to see me.”

“He wants to see you to give you back a hoodie? Or to get a little booty?”

She laughs. “Realistically? Probably the first, but I’m hoping for the second.”

“Just keep that little dog of yours out of the way, or she’ll clam jam you.”

Rusti’s laughter only grows louder. “What is that? The female equivalent of a cock block?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I laugh. “Come to think of it, she might trigger something in Zack if he starts remembering all that leg humping. You should probably hide her.”

“Aw, Auntie Dara. Do you want to puppy sit your little niece?”

I make a face and pick up a carrot. “Hardly.”

“Hey, now,” she says, teasing me. “The last time I allowed you to watch her—”

“You practically threw her at me.”

“Well, you almost let her get away.”

I snap off the end of the carrot. “Because she clearly hates me. You’re a terrible mother for letting your child be with someone they loathe.”

“She was testing you just like all kids do. You should be honored that I’d even consider letting you watch her again.”

I snort and get to my feet. “That’s me. Honored.”

Rusti’s voice gets fainter.

“You know, she did you right. She hooked you up,” Rusti says as if the phone is away from her face. “My girlie led you right to Catnip and …”

I don’t know what she says after that. My brain is already off on a tangent that leads to Wade Mason.

My body tingles as it remembers the heat of his palm. The allure of his cologne. The sexiness of his smirk.

It’s impossible to figure this man out. Does he like me? Hate me? Is he indifferent?

I don’t know.

He kicks me out of his office like I’m a time crasher. There are no follow-up calls or emails. And then he acts like he cares that Johan isn’t qualified to work for me and that he’s almost insulted that I would consider anyone else.