Restraint (Mason Family 1)

“After you,” I say to Blaire as she enters in front of me.

“I should’ve changed, Holt,” she says under her breath. “Look at these people.”

“There are people? What people?” I grin.

She tilts her head, clearly unamused.

“Fine.” Looking around, I spot the hostess and give my head a subtle nod. She scurries our way.

“Mr. Mason. Good to see you this evening.”

“Thank you,” I say, less amused at her wandering eye than usual. Moving slightly to the side so I’m closer to Blaire, I clear my throat. “Two, please. For the Radar Room, if it’s available.”

“I’ll rearrange for you, sir. Right this way.”

Blaire casts a look over her shoulder with her lips pressed together to hide a smile. She follows the hostess along the wall to one of the private rooms beside the main dining area. I place my palm gently on the small of her back. I want to touch her so fucking bad, but I don’t want to come across the wrong way.

She tenses for a brief second before her shoulders relax; mine follow. I flex my fingers against the smooth fabric of her dress, finding her body warm against my touch.

There’s a conversation between Blaire and the hostess, one I can’t hear, but I’m not mad about it. Just watching her speak, hearing her laugh at the hostess’s jokes, is enough for me. Right now, anyway. It’s a world-class view without any pressure.

We enter the private room, lit with candles and ambient lighting, and I pull out Blaire’s chair before she sits. This seems to please her, which, in turn, pleases me.

Once we’ve made a drink selection and the hostess is gone, the energy in the room starts to shift. I finally have her to myself.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” I say as she drapes her linen napkin on her lap.

“I believe you came with me, but that’s just semantics.”

“Excellent point.” I laugh. “How do you know the Landrys?”

“One of my brothers, Walker, is dating, or engaged, I’m not really sure, to their sister, Sienna,” she explains.

Lifting the glass of water in front of her, she swirls it lightly around. My question seems to have made her think of something else, and I want to know what it is. I want to know everything about this woman.

“So you grew up around here?” I ask.

“Me? Oh, no. I grew up in a little town in Illinois. That’s where my family still lives. I live in Chicago.”

I can’t imagine living apart from my brothers. We all live and work together in some form, except Coy. When he’s not touring with his band, he’s right here with us.

“Is that hard?” I ask.

“What?”

“Not being around your family. I see most of mine every day. Hell, my mom still calls me to make sure I’ve eaten all the colors of the rainbow once a week.”

A smile parts her lips. “I miss them a lot. But …” Her smile wobbles a bit. “I went to law school and work in the city. I can’t do what I love to do and live in Linton with them.”

I nod.

“I’m still really close to them,” she says. “And I visit as much as I can—at least once a month to see Nana.”

“Nana?”

“My grandmother. She’s as feisty as my brothers, but God, I love her. She was my dad’s mom and spoiled us rotten growing up.” She takes a deep breath and then adds, almost as an afterthought, “Now I try to spoil her when I can.”

Something about the way she says this catches my attention. It’s sweet and careful, something I’m not sure I’ve really attached to Blaire so far. But when she looks back up at me, that’s all washed away.

“What about you?” she asks. “Are you close to your brothers?”

“I work with Oliver, so we’re together every day. We see Wade and Boone a lot. Coy is gone a lot, doing his thing.” I shrug. “But, yeah, we’re all close. We golf together, go boating, play some poker.”

“My brother Machlan has a bar,” she tells me. “They tried to have poker night there a couple of times until I advised him to shut it down. I had no idea those things got so serious.”

“Oh, yeah. If you ever meet Coy, ask him what joker’s wild means.”

She laughs. “I’ll make sure I never do that. Thanks for the warning.”

A soft knock on the door sounds through the room, and a waitress arrives. She takes our orders and disappears quietly.

Once we’re alone again, I relax back in my chair and look at the beauty across from me.

“So,” she says, resting her forearms on the table. “What do you do for fun?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes, honestly.”

“I work.”

Her laugh is the freest I’ve heard from her. It causes the corners of my lips to twitch.

“You sound like me,” she says. “I get such satisfaction from finding a bit of evidence the prosecution didn’t think I’d see or hearing a verdict go the right way.”