CHAPTER 11
Harper pulled her hairup into a bun before swiping on a bit of lip gloss. She pursed her lips and spread the raspberry creme gloss on. She loved how it made her lips pop. “Not that he’ll notice,” she muttered as she put her make up away. Mason had said the word “friends” so many times yesterday that Harper had wanted to shout that she got it.
“Geez, sensitive much?” she scolded herself in the mirror. She wasn’t even supposed to be going over to his house today. But after putting Layla to bed, it had been clear that Mason was exhausted and would need to wait to go through creating any kind of schedule. “I can spare a few hours this morning,” she muttered, grabbing her oversized purse and stuffing it with snacks from her cupboard that would be a good fit for Layla. Mason would need to go grocery shopping and learn how to get food that Layla could and would eat.
She paused, realizing just how deeply Layla’s arrival was going to affect Mason. Every aspect of his life had changed in a split second. He’d need a sitter to go anywhere by himself again, and the odds of it being a last minute thing were basically gone. Travel, work, food, sleep...there really wasn’t any part of his life that wouldn’t change. A dull ache built in her chest and Harper rubbed her sternum. Sympathy and a longing to help ease his burden nearly overwhelmed her and she had to grip the counter until her knees quit shaking.
“And to go through all this while mourning his sister’s death?” She blew out a breath. What kind of superhero was he? He might have been a mess when she arrived, but it was only because he was trying. He hadn’t complained, he hadn’t wanted Harper to just do it all. He could have simply given Layla to his parents and washed his hands of the matter, but instead Mason had decided to honor his sister’s wishes and raise her daughter. A daughter no one even knew existed.
Harper closed her eyes and manually brought air in and out of her lungs. She had always been one to sympathize, but this...this was different. Harper didn’t just feel bad for Mason. She hurt for him and yet admired him at the same time. If she could choose the perfect man, one who was masculine yet gentle, intelligent yet humble, and knew how to work, Mason Turley wouldn’t just be at the top of the list...he’d be the whole list.
She shook her head and gathered her keys. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t continue to torture herself with fantastical wishes that would never come true. Her feelings for Mason were so much more than she thought. This feeling didn’t come from a simple crush, she’d had those before.
No...this pain and admiration were the result of something deeper, something she didn’t want to name, because naming it made it real and no matter how much she yearned after the lumberjack, he still couldn’t be hers.
It only took a few minutes to arrive at his house. Harper’s heart began to pound in her chest as she walked up to the door. Unlike yesterday, there was no screaming and wailing coming from inside and she hoped that was a good sign.
She knocked, but no one came to the door. Her rapid pulse began to speed for a different reason. Had something happened? She knocked a little harder, the sound slightly frantic. After what seemed like forever, the door creaked open. “Mason?”
He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Yeah. Come on in.” He backed up, showing off his pajama pants and tight T-shirt.
Just friends...just friends...Harper had to chant the reminder. Mason was all too delectable first thing in the morning, especially after her realizations this morning.
“Sorry.” He covered a yawn. “I wasn’t expecting you quite so early.”
Harper laughed softly. “It’s nine o’clock. I was expecting Layla to be up and demanding breakfast.”
Mason stilled. “It’s nine?”
She nodded.
“Huh.” His hand went through his unruly hair. “I can’t remember the last time I slept this late.”
She patted his chest as she walked by him. Oh, man...that was unnecessary torture. Harper tried not to appear as if she was yanking her hand back, but if she didn’t get herself under control, she wasn’t going to make it through breakfast let alone anything else she was supposed to help with. “Let me go check on Layla and I’ll meet you in the kitchen. We can go through some things while she sleeps.”
Mason nodded and shuffled away, another yawn breaking loose.
Harper laughed under her breath, turning away so she didn’t run into a wall from watching him walk away. It would be all too easy to just stand there all day and enjoy his boyish behavior. Why was it so attractive to see big men act adorably little?
The world may never know.
Harper grasped the doorknob to Layla’s room and carefully eased it open. Layla was standing in the crib, watching her. Her eyes were bright and refreshed, a far cry from yesterday’s red rimmed look. “Hey, sweetie,” Harper said with a smile. Once again, she had a moment of worry that the child wasn’t responding. Time. Just give her time.
Layla smiled and waited for Harper to approach before raising her arms.
“Such a good girl,” Harper said, pulling the cutie close. She kissed the warm forehead, brushing the curls back from Layla’s. “Let’s give your uncle another lesson in diaper changing, huh?”
Layla bounced against Harper’s hip, so Layla set her down and took the girl’s hand. “Let’s go.” Harper guided her down the hallway, but Layla wasn’t going to be held back, eventually ripping her hand away from Harper’s grip and racing into the front room. “Careful!” Harper called, lengthening her steps to keep up.
In a flurry of curls, Layla ran to the couch and crawled up, settling herself proudly on top.
Mason came from the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
Harper waved a hand toward the couch. “You might have a climber on your hands.”
He frowned. “Is that good?”
Harper shook her head. “Uh, not usually.”
Mason’s shoulders slumped. “Just give it to me straight.”
Harper tried to hold back her laughter, but there was nothing for it. She walked over and grabbed Layla off the couch, still giggling under her breath. “Sorry. You just look so...resigned. Like you’re prepping for someone to punch you in the face.”
Mason joined her with a chuckle. “It kind of feels like that. Every time I turn around, something new is throwing me off my game.” He sighed. “So, does being a climber mean exactly what it sounds like?”
Harper nodded. “Yep. There are some children who like climbing things and that can be anything from the couch to the fridge.”
“That can’t be true,” Mason argued.
Harper raised her eyebrows. “It is.”
“Why do I get the feeling you were a climber?”
Harper smiled. “I didn’t manage the fridge, but I did have a tendency to climb the bookcases. Mom says I almost sent her to an early grave.”
Mason turned and walked back to the kitchen. “I don’t even want to hear it.”
“You’ll be fine,” Harper assured him, following his path. “I lived to adulthood, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but I’ll bet your mother knew more about children than I do.” He began grabbing food out of the fridge. It looked like it was an omelet morning.
“You’ll learn,” Harper pressed. “I promise not to back off until you’re comfortable with it all.”
“Might as well move in then,” he said with his head still inside the fridge. “Because I don’t know that I’ll ever get there.”
Harper swallowed the emotions that followed his joke. He obviously had no idea how those words would affect her. “Before you start breakfast, you need to change Layla.” There. Dirty diapers were a perfect way to move her mind away from living with a handsome lumberjack into focusing on reality.
Mason jerked upright. “Right.” He cleared his throat, his cheeks slightly pink. “I should have thought of that.” He walked over. “Come on, Tiny. Let’s see if Harper’s lesson yesterday stuck.”
Harper watched from the entrance to the kitchen, that same unnamed feeling swirling through her belly as he talked and teased the little girl, all while changing her diaper perfectly.
You’re only going to end up more broken hearted if you don’t stop it,she scolded herself.
The thought was sobering. She really needed to keep her hormones under control. She was only here for the morning. If she didn’t get a good handle on that painting today, she’d be scrambling to get it ready at all. She’d keep that as her plan. Help Mason, go home and paint and stop noticing every sweet thing that Mason did with little Layla.
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