The Wingman (Alpha Men 1)

Mason remembered Dr. McGregor’s kindness, how gently he had taken the cat from Mason and examined it. The gravity in his voice as he explained that the kitten was very sick and in a lot of pain and the best thing Mason could do as its owner was to let it go. Mason had been only ten, but he had understood the concept of death, had known the cold, hard truth couched beneath the man’s kind euphemisms, but the cat was his responsibility, and as such he had to do right by it.

He balked when Dr. McGregor had tried to send him out of the room and instead cradled the tiny kitten in his arms as the vet did what had to be done. Afterward, he’d allowed the man to take the cat from him, knowing that he couldn’t bury it at their house because the neighbor’s dogs would probably dig it up. And when Mason offered up the few cents he had in his pocket as payment, Dr. McGregor had left his dignity intact by accepting the money and shaking his hand.

He wondered if the man sitting across from him even remembered that encounter. He must have had so many patients over the years that one small boy with a sick cat couldn’t have been very memorable. And yet, the same encounter had altered Mason’s life irrevocably. Before that adults hadn’t treated Mason as much more than a nuisance; they had never seemed to see him. Dr. McGregor had not only seen him but had made him feel respected and important. It had made him want to be more than just a worthless kid from the wrong side of town. When he reflected on it now, he understood that Andrew McGregor’s treatment of him that long-ago day had been the first step on his journey toward the man he had become.

“So, Mason, how do you feel about our daughter?” Millicent McGregor suddenly asked, and Mason choked on his coffee, despite having expected the question long before now.

“Millie, Daisy says they’re just friends,” Andrew McGregor said, his voice gently chastising.

“That’s what Daisy says; I would like to hear what Mason has to say,” the woman retorted. She looked sweet and harmless, with a benign smile on her face as she cuddled Peaches on her lap. She was stroking the dog rhythmically but kept her eyes trained on Mason’s face, watching him like a hawk. The unflinching stare was a jarring contradiction to that sweet smile. Mrs. McGregor definitely had a core of steel, if that look was anything to go by, and Mason sensed an ambush.

“I like her,” he replied smoothly after a long and measured pause. “And I’m working on getting her to like me back.”

“Why would you have to work at getting her to like you? Seems to me she likes you already,” Dr. McGregor inserted, and Mason swallowed as he heard the edge in the man’s voice, even though he was still smiling benevolently. He was starting to feel like he was being worked over by a professional interrogation tag team. He was almost tempted to respond with his name, rank, and number.

“Like me in the same way,” Mason said and then nearly bit off his tongue at the dumb answer.

“And what way is that, dear?” Millicent asked, leaning forward slightly, her smile becoming a little less benign and a lot more sharklike.

“A lot.”

“What’s that?” the older man prompted.

“I like her a lot. She likes me less . . . I’m working on resolving the disparity.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Millicent asked sweetly, and Mason shrugged. They were playing a canny game of good cop/good cop, and it was freaking him the hell out. Good cop/bad cop, even bad cop/bad cop, he could handle, but this was something else entirely.

“You know, the usual way.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” the woman said, taking a sip of tea. “What, pray tell, is the usual way?”

“Flowers and stuff?” Jesus, he sounded like an amateur. So much for having Daisy’s back. He was coming apart like a wet tissue under the tiniest bit of duress.

“To what end?” The male voice was almost jarring after Millicent’s catlike purr, and Mason barely stopped himself from starting.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he hedged.

“What will you do after you get her to like you a lot?” How the hell was he supposed to answer that question? He had no intention of marrying Daisy or getting into a serious relationship with her. He wanted to have sex with her, sure, but even that wasn’t in the cards, and if it were, it wasn’t exactly something he’d tell her parents. So where exactly was this fake relationship supposed to go?

“I don’t know.” He finally opted for honesty. “It’s much too soon to tell. We’ve only just started going out.”