Price of a Kiss (Forbidden Men 1)

The only bright spot on both of those evenings had been getting to spend time with the sweetest little girl with cerebral palsy on the face of the planet. I was quickly falling in love with Sarah, and her smile.

After I painted her fingers and toes with Purple Passion on Monday, then topped them off with some plastic jeweled bling, the biggest, brightest smile lit her face. I was tempted to pull her into a big ol’ bear hug and kiss her all over her adorable face.

I put her to sleep by reading her the first chapter of Harry Potter, which I’d brought for Mason. Then I dragged myself into the Arnosta kitchen and tried to catch up on a little homework. I gagged my way through a Humanities assignment before Dawn showed up about twenty minutes after midnight.

Bummed that I hadn’t even caught a glimpse of Mason, and even more bummed because I knew why, I drove home and did a walkthrough of my apartment to make sure nothing looked disturbed. When I collapsed on my bed, I forgot to set my alarm clock.

So of course, I slept in on Tuesday.

With no time to do my hair or put on makeup after a quickie shower, I dashed out the door, figuring I’d buy breakfast on campus. But, au contraire. Remembering I was low on funds for

a couple more days, I dashed back into my apartment and snagged a banana from my rarely picked-from fruit basket sitting on my kitchen counter.

I reached campus ten minutes before my class started, which made me gnash my teeth and wonder if I’d had time to primp after all. Oh, well. It was just going to have to be a grunge day.

My usual table where I’d first eaten lunch with Mason was taken. Taken! I know, I was going to have to carve my name into it. I slumped to a nearby tree and collapsed on a sunny patch of grass. Digging my banana from my bag, I wrinkled my nose at the brown, aged spots on the peeling and decided I was too tired to eat anyway. So I closed my eyes and waited until it was an acceptable time to drag my bootie to class.

I was trying to boost myself to stand when a shadow blocked out the sunlight. I sensed someone standing over me a split second before that voice I loved and loathed at the same time—because it made me want things I couldn’t have—said, “Question.”

I opened one eye to see Mason. He looked perfect. As usual. Wearing loose, scruffy pants and a form-fitting, dark-plaid top, he grinned down at me, holding his hands behind his back.

“What?” I mumbled drowsily.

“Why are we sitting on the grass this morning?”

We? When had we become a we?

God, I loved how he said we.

Damn it, we could never be a we.

Life was so freaking unfair.

I flung a lazy hand in the direction of my table. “If you haven’t noticed, our table is already occupied.”

He glanced over, and then looked back to me. “Really? Hmm. Actually, I hadn’t noticed.”

I lifted my face from my book bag I was using as a pillow—a really sucky, lumpy, hard pillow—and craned my neck as far as my body would allow without exerting any more energy than absolutely necessary. When I saw our table was indeed empty again, I groaned and dropped my head back with a thump.

“Well, it was occupied when I got here, so I opted for this lovely spot of fresh grass. And don’t even think about making me get up to move now. I’m too”—I paused to yawn—“tired.”

“Ah,” he said with an understanding nod. “I see.” He didn’t sit next to me but remained standing with his hands behind his back. When he rocked back onto his heels, I squinted at him, wondering what the heck his deal was.

“So I saw you here, lounging on the grass,” he finally told me, “and I said to myself, what is wrong with this picture…besides the fact that you were practically passed out on the ground.”

“Oh, God.” My hand immediately went to my hair. It had dried into a clumpy mess. “My hair looks like crap, I know. And I’m not wearing any makeup. I slept in, okay. I didn’t have time to doll myself up, and—”

“Not that,” he said, shaking his head and grinning. His gaze went to my hair before it skimmed my face. “Actually, I hadn’t even noticed. You do seem more natural today, though. Looks nice.”

Lordy, I needed to ignore how warm that compliment made me feel.

Forcing my mind past it, I kicked up a leg, showing him my footwear. “Is it because I’m wearing sandals instead of flats?”

Yeah, yeah, Eva had converted me to the dark side. But my feet could breathe so much easier in sandals. I could show off my own sparkly painted toenails—plus a new toe ring I’d just gotten—and besides, they were adorable, sexy and practical all rolled into one with a bunch of straps to make my ankles look incredible. I hadn’t been able to resist buying them.

Mason glanced at my new sandals. “Uh…no. Sorry.”

I let my foot plop back to earth. “Okay, I give up.” When he just grinned at me, I rolled my eyes and feigned some seriously pathetic interest. “Why, whatever did you notice missing about me this morning, Mason?”