Read Online River Road by Jayne Ann Krentz - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jayne Ann Krentz
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thanks for saving me that night.”
“No.”
“Yes.” She met his eyes. “If Brinker had succeeded with his evil act, I would have been seriously traumatized. My life would probably have gone in an entirely different direction, and it most likely would not have been a good direction. So . . . thanks.”
9
L ucy sat on the sofa, one leg curled under herself, and watched Mason take apart the wall of tiles that blocked the front of the big fireplace. It dawned on her that she liked to watch him, regardless of the task at hand—driving, flipping a wrench into the air, setting a table, removing tiles. She just liked to look at him.
It was weird to think that nothing had changed since he had dropped her off at her door the night of the party thirteen years ago. It wasn’t as if she’d spent the intervening years thinking about him or missing him. Her life had been fulfilling and, with the glaring exception of her love life, satisfying. She had a career she found interesting and challenging. She had good friends.
The point was that she had not been lonely since leaving Summer River and she had not been pining for Mason Fletcher. When she had thought about him at all, it had been with a mix of amusement and sympathy for the sixteen-year-old kid who’d had a crush on an older, out-of-reach male who, she now knew, had saved her from a vicious sociopath.
The bottom line was that Mason Fletcher had been a treasured memory of her youth, but she certainly had not obsessed over him. She was an adult now. She no longer viewed him from the perspective of a shy teen with a crush on an older boy. Now she saw him as an equal. The age difference between them was no longer an obstacle. And she found him even more fascinating than he had been all those years ago.
“How long do you plan to stay in Summer River?” she asked.
Mason used a small hammer to tap the end of a chisel. Another tile fell free. He caught it and placed it on top of the growing stack.
“Depends,” he said.
She let it go. Mason would talk only when he was ready, and that might be never.
“You know, I never would have envisioned you working in a hardware store,” she said.
“Why not? I like selling hardware. Hardware is real. Hammers, saws, drills, screwdrivers—they’re useful. When you think about it, civilization as we know it depends on stuff like that.”
“I hadn’t considered screwdrivers and hammers from that perspective, but I see what you mean. Personally, I’ve always considered good indoor plumbing the basis of civilization. It’s the reason I never saw the appeal of camping.”
“You can’t put a toilet or a shower together without good tools.”
“Good point.”
“What happened to your engagement?”
The question came out of nowhere, catching her off guard.
“It ended after about a year when I found him in bed with his administrative assistant,” she said.
Belatedly, she wished she’d kept her mouth shut.
“You were engaged for nearly a year?” Mason gave her a severe look. “That should have told you something was seriously wrong.”
Now he had put her on the defensive.
“Why do you say that?” she asked, going for a little chill in her tone. “A lot of engagements last a year or longer. A long engagement gives two people an opportunity to make sure they are right for each other.”
Mason looked unconvinced. “I say if it takes you a year to decide whether or not you can make a commitment, something is missing.”
“Yes, well, turns out something was missing in the case of my engagement.”
He pried off another tile. “What?”
“Me, I think.”
He raised his brows. “Meaning?”
“I have commitment issues, according to my therapist. Something to do with being a child of divorce—all that shuttling back and forth between two feuding parents. Add in the fact that I didn’t like my mom’s second husband or my father’s second wife and they didn’t like me, and things get complicated.”
He
“No.”
“Yes.” She met his eyes. “If Brinker had succeeded with his evil act, I would have been seriously traumatized. My life would probably have gone in an entirely different direction, and it most likely would not have been a good direction. So . . . thanks.”
9
L ucy sat on the sofa, one leg curled under herself, and watched Mason take apart the wall of tiles that blocked the front of the big fireplace. It dawned on her that she liked to watch him, regardless of the task at hand—driving, flipping a wrench into the air, setting a table, removing tiles. She just liked to look at him.
It was weird to think that nothing had changed since he had dropped her off at her door the night of the party thirteen years ago. It wasn’t as if she’d spent the intervening years thinking about him or missing him. Her life had been fulfilling and, with the glaring exception of her love life, satisfying. She had a career she found interesting and challenging. She had good friends.
The point was that she had not been lonely since leaving Summer River and she had not been pining for Mason Fletcher. When she had thought about him at all, it had been with a mix of amusement and sympathy for the sixteen-year-old kid who’d had a crush on an older, out-of-reach male who, she now knew, had saved her from a vicious sociopath.
The bottom line was that Mason Fletcher had been a treasured memory of her youth, but she certainly had not obsessed over him. She was an adult now. She no longer viewed him from the perspective of a shy teen with a crush on an older boy. Now she saw him as an equal. The age difference between them was no longer an obstacle. And she found him even more fascinating than he had been all those years ago.
“How long do you plan to stay in Summer River?” she asked.
Mason used a small hammer to tap the end of a chisel. Another tile fell free. He caught it and placed it on top of the growing stack.
“Depends,” he said.
She let it go. Mason would talk only when he was ready, and that might be never.
“You know, I never would have envisioned you working in a hardware store,” she said.
“Why not? I like selling hardware. Hardware is real. Hammers, saws, drills, screwdrivers—they’re useful. When you think about it, civilization as we know it depends on stuff like that.”
“I hadn’t considered screwdrivers and hammers from that perspective, but I see what you mean. Personally, I’ve always considered good indoor plumbing the basis of civilization. It’s the reason I never saw the appeal of camping.”
“You can’t put a toilet or a shower together without good tools.”
“Good point.”
“What happened to your engagement?”
The question came out of nowhere, catching her off guard.
“It ended after about a year when I found him in bed with his administrative assistant,” she said.
Belatedly, she wished she’d kept her mouth shut.
“You were engaged for nearly a year?” Mason gave her a severe look. “That should have told you something was seriously wrong.”
Now he had put her on the defensive.
“Why do you say that?” she asked, going for a little chill in her tone. “A lot of engagements last a year or longer. A long engagement gives two people an opportunity to make sure they are right for each other.”
Mason looked unconvinced. “I say if it takes you a year to decide whether or not you can make a commitment, something is missing.”
“Yes, well, turns out something was missing in the case of my engagement.”
He pried off another tile. “What?”
“Me, I think.”
He raised his brows. “Meaning?”
“I have commitment issues, according to my therapist. Something to do with being a child of divorce—all that shuttling back and forth between two feuding parents. Add in the fact that I didn’t like my mom’s second husband or my father’s second wife and they didn’t like me, and things get complicated.”
He
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