The Wingman (Alpha Men 1)

“Coop, quiet,” Mason admonished his barking dog. Cooper had dashed for the front door before the doorbell had even rung, and now his nose was buried at the bottom of the door as he tried to get a whiff of their visitor, his tail frantically waving like a surrendering flag.

Mason opened the door and grinned at Daisy, who was peering up at him through her wet lenses, her hair a frizzy mess around her face and her nose and cheeks pink from the cold. She looked frazzled and completely out of sorts, if the irritated frown on her face was any indication.

“Hey.” He dropped a kiss on her cold cheek—partly in case anybody happened to be passing by but mostly because he wanted to—and stepped aside to let her in. Cooper, who had been happily sniffing away at her feet and legs, making little whines of approval, suddenly yelped and comically leaped away from her to duck behind Mason’s legs.

“You brought Peaches, didn’t you?” he asked, looking for the little fluff ball but not seeing her. Daisy opened her coat to reveal the contented-looking pooch nuzzled up against her breast, and Mason felt a surge of envy for the lucky dog.

“I didn’t want to leave her alone again; she’s been on her own too much over the last few days. I hope you don’t mind?”

“Nah. Gives Coop a chance to overcome his irrational fear of her.” He aimed a disgusted glance down at his trembling dog, who was still hunkered behind Mason, tail tucked between his hind legs.

Daisy put her weird little dog on the floor, and Peaches delicately started sniffing around the room, totally ignoring Cooper in the process. Daisy escaped from all the accoutrements of winter—handing her scarf, beanie, gloves, and coat to Mason in the process. She smelled fantastic, and the sexy little black dress she wore beneath the coat emphasized her lush curves rather magnificently.

She was looking around his foyer curiously, her eyes darting to and fro as she took in every detail. Mason was rather proud of the house, which he had designed—and later decorated—himself. Other people’s opinions rarely mattered to him, but he found himself wanting her to like his home. Rather desperately, actually.

“This is lovely,” she finally breathed after an interminable amount of time had passed. “I’m not going to lie, I’ve been curious about this house ever since they started building it. I think most of Riversend has been.”

The house was built on a large hill overlooking town and offered magnificent views of the ocean. As schoolboys, Mason and Spencer had often trekked up the hill and sat in the exact spot the house was now, smoking cigarettes and watching the people in town as they went about their business. Back then they had taken pleasure in denigrating the hardworking citizens of Riversend, had pretended to be hard-asses even though both had an unacknowledged desire to be accepted and considered equals. They had been rebels because it was easier to be bad than considered the poor kids in need of charity. So they had stolen to eat, and when they were older, they had both found other ways to get by and eventually climb out of the rut they had been born into.

Buying this forgotten tract of land and later building his home here had been Mason’s way of finally laying those old feelings of inadequacy and desperation to rest.

Daisy was happily poking around his living room, making appreciative sounds as she ran her finger along the furniture.

“It’s so cozy in here. Warm and masculine,” she said with a smile, and Mason looked around the room in an attempt to see it as she saw it. The house was his take on a traditional log cabin with a peaked roof. It wasn’t very big and featured an open-plan living and dining space with a large, separate modern kitchen. A guest bathroom was tucked away beneath the staircase. The sizable loft upstairs housed his bedroom and master bathroom. The high-vaulted ceiling gave the impression of space and airiness. He had a few tall windows downstairs, but his favorite feature was the wall of windows in the loft. It felt like he was sleeping in a treehouse, and he could see for miles without lifting his head from his pillow.

Daisy had moved toward the huge stone hearth and was warming herself in front of the crackling fire.

“Make yourself at home,” Mason invited. “I’ll be right with you, just putting the finishing touches on dinner.”

“I’ll help,” she said, turning toward him. “I want to see your kitchen.”

“It’s just a kitchen,” he said.

“Don’t care, I want to see it anyway.”

“Fine, you can have a sip of tea while I finish.”

“Okay.”

He led her into the kitchen and was gratified when she oohed and ahhed over his marble finishes and redwood cabinets. Peaches had followed them into the kitchen and was happily pilfering Cooper’s food from his bowl. Of the bigger dog there was no sign.