Restraint (Mason Family 1)

Blaire. That’s who.

My chuckle comes out before I can stop it.

“Excuse me?” Sherrie asks.

“I apologize. Miss Gibson is my guest,” I say, picking up the lace. “If you leave the card with the front desk, I’ll pick it up before I leave today. As I said.”

She starts to object but reconsiders—probably in part due to the rather large tab my family spends at Picante every month. Her sigh is quick but present. “Yes, sir. Have a good day.”

“You, too. Thanks.”

I toss my phone onto the bed. As soon as it hits the mattress, it rings again.

“Fucking hell,” I say, picking it right back up. “Hello?”

“What’s up your ass?” Oliver asks.

“You right now.”

He chuckles. “Well, let me worm my way up there a little farther. Just got off the phone with Graham Landry.”

I bunch the lace up in my hand and hold it at my side. The fabric is soft and stretchy, and I wish I could’ve seen it on Blaire’s skin.

The thought makes me hard.

Pushing the image out of my mind, I try to focus on my brother.

“Do either of you two sleep?” I ask.

“Landry called me at one in the morning. While I do appreciate a good night’s rest, I’m thinking he doesn’t.”

“What did he want?”

I sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips with my weight and instantly brings back memories of laying Blaire in this very spot just hours ago. The way she smiled with a vulnerable confidence. How her body molded into my hands. The feeling of her handing over control … and then taking it back this morning by leaving with only a note.

A fucking note.

Still, I have to admit that it’s better than waking up with a woman stuck to me like sleeping together somehow equals monogamy and having to coax her into a cab as gently as possible. Blaire left. On her own. And while I wouldn’t have minded a morning round for good measure, I respect her game.

Hell, I wonder if I could adapt it for my own use.

“Holt?” Oliver draws me back to the phone.

“Sorry. I’m here.”

He sighs. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what are you doing? You’re distracted as hell.”

My lip twitches. “I was doing Blaire. And I did it well, I might add.”

Oliver sighs. “Well, let me turn around.”

“Why? What are you doing?”

“Well, I was on my way to your house. But if it’s this early in the morning, and you’ve been with Blaire, then you sure as hell aren’t at home, are you?”

I rub a hand down my face.

My refusal to take a woman home with me, even for one night, is a running joke with Oliver. He can’t understand it. He also didn’t help me clean up the mess the last time.

It’s a rule that allows me to work and play and keep them in separate, clean little boxes—just like I like it.

“No. I’m at a hotel,” I say, bracing for the rant that I know is coming.

“Look, I really don’t give two shits about Blaire or what the two of you are or are not doing … although by the sound of you this morning, I do have to say that I’m leaning more toward the are not. But—”

“Hey, Oliver.”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck off.”

He laughs. The sound works its way through me and, before I know it, has me smiling too.

“Back to Landry,” I say, feeling a bit more focused. “What did he want?”

“Well, Graham talked to his dad, I guess, and he has reservations about selling us the land. Something about a promise they made in a campaign about protecting the environment.”

I balk. “Since when did they become environmentalists?”

“Since they needed votes in the last election, I guess. Fuck if I know. Anyway, I assured them that Wade was on board with using environmentally-friendly designs and building methods.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure Wade gives a fuck.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not sure that I care what Wade gives a fuck about,” Oliver says.

I run a hand down my face.

We’ve spent so much time working on this deal that we’ve neglected others. As the president of the company, that was my call. The future of the company is in my hands in a way it has never been before. And if it falls through … we fail.

I fail.

I cause my family to fail.

The muscles at the back of my neck tighten.

“You’re right,” I say, working my jaw back and forth. “We have one week to convince Landry to sell to us before he puts it on the market. We have to procure this deal because it’ll change everything for our company.”

“Exactly. We stick with our plan—get the property in our name. I feel good about this, Holt. I really do.”

Because I’ve micromanaged the shit out of this for the past ten months.

“We’ve thought it over from every angle. Boone already has some bites from investors. We have a dream concept with hotels, retail space, spas. If we need Wade to put on his hippie hat to get this contract, then he’ll put on the hippie hat whether he likes it or not. We have seven days to pull this off. We can do this.”