The Wingman (Alpha Men 1)

“We nearly came to blows when he insisted on staying. In the end we both knew our prospects would improve if he got a degree. The plan was he would get his degree and after he finished I would get mine. Well, that was his plan. I’d already started looking into the military. He nearly blew a gasket when I told him I was enlisting.”

He spoke matter-of-factly, as if he were talking about someone else, and she found the disconnect telling. He had completely disassociated himself from the boy who had shoplifted to stay alive, who had spent two years completely alone. It had shaped him into the man he was, but it was no longer relevant to his present. Yet Spencer embraced that same past by giving all those motivational speeches. And while she thought the town’s troubled youth could learn a great deal from Mason as well, she understood that he was a more private person who didn’t open up as easily. Public speaking was not for him.

They were quiet for a long time after that, speaking only to add to their respective red car tallies.

Three hours later, after a long nap and quick food and fuel stop in Port Elizabeth, Daisy took over the driving and Mason was stretched out in the passenger seat, watching the green scenery pass by. After a while he seemed to grow bored with that and turned to watch her while she drove.

“Will you please stop doing that?” she finally snapped after a few minutes of relentless staring. “It’s unnerving.”

“Stop doing what?”

“Staring at me.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You blatantly were,” she gasped. A little offended by the lie.

“How do you know my eyes aren’t closed?” It was a valid question, since he was still wearing his sunglasses.

“I just know!”

“I was counting your freckles,” he finally admitted, and she gave him a horrified look. He pointed out the windscreen. “Eyes on the road, Daisy.”

“You were what?” she gritted out, after diverting her eyes back on the road.

“Counting your freckles . . . and I’m a little irritated with your interruption. You made me lose count. I like how they congregate on your nose and then kind of carelessly scatter across your cheekbone like drunken little soldiers, just a few here and there. Do you know that some fell out of line and randomly landed wherever the hell they wanted? Little rebels. There’s one just below the corner of your lip, looks a little lonely down there, but it hasn’t fallen as far as this little guy here.” He reached out and brushed his thumb over the sensitive skin of her throat. “What is it doing all the way over there? I think this one is my favorite.”

“Stop counting my freckles and try to get some sleep,” she whispered, not at all sure what to make of this.

“That’s what I’m trying to do; it’s like counting stars, only so much prettier.” His words were starting to slur, and she refrained from commenting. A gentle snore a few minutes later alerted her to the fact that he’d dozed off, and a quick glance in his direction confirmed it. His head was lolling forward slightly and his beautiful lips were slightly parted. She forced her eyes back on the road and sighed, already missing his lively companionship. She was in deep trouble here. The man was proving to be much too irresistible.

“Daisy,” her name was whispered directly into her ear, and Daisy startled awake and blinked in confusion.

“Wha—” Why was it so dark? She turned her head, and her lips brushed against Mason’s stubbled jaw. He backed away quickly.

“We’re here,” he announced, and she rubbed her eyes.

“Already?” she muttered incoherently.

“Yeah, the last two hours flew by.” He had taken over the driving again after just an hour, and Daisy had reluctantly relinquished control of the beautiful car back to him. But she’d been tired after her half day at work and was happy to let him do the bulk of the driving.

“Your hotel is fifteen minutes away,” she said apologetically. “I’m sorry, it’s the closest one I could . . .”

“Don’t worry about it, Lia sorted something out for me.”

“What?” Her sleep-muddled brain wasn’t functioning properly, and she was still trying to process his words when he stepped out of the car and opened the passenger door for her.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxed, taking hold of her elbow gently.

“You’re staying here too?”

“I am,” he confirmed. He stopped at the boot to unload their luggage while a porter happily stacked the bags onto a trolley.

“I thought it was full.”

“It’s been taken care of,” he said as he shepherded her into the hotel reception area, the porter following behind them. They were welcomed by a warmly smiling desk manager.

“Good evening, you’re here for the Edmonton-McGregor wedding?” The attractive and polished woman’s smile widened at the sight of Mason, who smiled back casually, flashing that killer dimple at her.