Restraint (Mason Family 1)

What?

I get to my feet and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My skin looks bright. My lips are full. There’s a slight purple mark on the top of my breast that I can see as my robe dips in the front.

All in all, I don’t look as depressed at being on vacation as I thought I would. And maybe I have Holt to thank for that.

But did he chase me out of there last night? Not like she’s implying.

Although I don’t really mind the sound of it when phrased like that.

I grin. “Lincoln is adorable, by the way.”

“Lincoln is gross. He’s my brother and has way too much time on his hands at this point in his life. But anyway, Holt is not my brother, and he is smoking hot. I’ll have you know that I had the biggest crush on him my entire life. We used to see the Masons at events, and I’d literally drool over Holt. And Oliver. And Wade. I’d spy on them and drive my brothers crazy.”

I sit on the couch again and recline back into the pillows. “When I was little, Walker and Lance used to have their friends over, and they’d chase me with frogs. We had very different childhood experiences.”

Sienna laughs. “And look at us now. We’re practically sisters.”

“That’s … true.”

“So spill it, sister.”

I nestle down into the pillows and try to embrace the odd sensation washing over me. It’s slightly uncomfortable but strangely pleasant to have this kind of girl talk. Either way, it’s definitely new for me.

This kind of mindless chatter never involved me. Girls in high school or college—sometimes even now in the lunchroom at work—giggle over romantic comedies and men they see on social media. I’m always too busy to be drawn into irrelevant conversations. But it feels different with Sienna, and I wonder what life might’ve been like had I had a sister of my own.

“We had dinner,” I say. “He’s very interesting.”

She groans. “You’re so not doing this right.”

I bite my lip before letting it pop free. “That’s not what he said.”

“Blaire!”

I laugh, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“No! Don’t be sorry. This is what I’m after. This is how it works. Now keep it going and tell me what else he said or didn’t say, did or didn’t do.”

“I just … We had dinner. We had a nice time. I left early this morning and apparently left my credit card behind. That’s it.”

That is it—more or less.

But when I say it like that, it feels too simple. Too cut-and-dry. Too much like I met some random man in an equally random place and slept with him, and that was that. Because while all that is true, there’s a thread to it that isn’t.

Holt.

Not one single thing about that man is ordinary. He’s not the man you meet in a bar or the acquaintance you agree to hook up with because you’re desperate for a release after a workweek from hell. Those types of guys deliver mediocre, forgettable performances. I’m usually neck-deep in work briefs with a laser focus by ten o’clock the next morning, not having a discussion with my brother’s girlfriend about the events of the night before.

So while that might be it, it also might not be a complete summary of the events of the evening. I still might be figuring that out.

Sienna sucks in a breath. “You’re totally going to call him and go get it, right?”

My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten. My heartbeat races at the thought of seeing Holt again. My insides twist as I try to determine what the best course of action is to resolve this predicament.

“He’s the perfect vacation fling, you know,” Sienna says cautiously.

“He was a great one-night stand.” I get to my feet. “I need to go, Sienna, and deal with this card issue. Thank you for calling me and letting me know where it is.”

“I am going to teach you how to be a sister yet.”

I chuckle. “We’ll talk soon.”

“Hopefully with more detail.”

“Goodbye, Sienna,” I say, holding back a laugh.

“Bye, Blaire.”

I end the call but leave the phone in my hand. With my hair wet against my shoulders, I stare at the device and wonder what to do.

Nine

Holt

“And then Wade acted like I was crazy,” Boone says. “I told him to go double-check his facts and call me back and maybe I’d answer. Can you believe that?”

“Nope.”

I give myself a mental pat on the back for getting the timing right with my response. I have no clue what he’s talking about nor do I care.

Boone is the youngest of my brothers but only eighteen months after Coy. The two of them were buddies growing up while Ollie and I book-ended the other side. That left Wade in the middle. He’s now your proverbial middle child with two older CEOs on one side of him and two heathens on the other. Sometimes, I feel sorry for him … especially when Boone is on his back.