a deep red. Then panic widened her eyes. “Mason doesn’t know, does he?”
“He’s a man.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s oblivious.”
“Oh good.” Hazel relaxed, her shoulders wilting in relief. “You had me worried for a second.”
“I just wanted you to know I’m leaving in a few days, and then Mason will be free.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth. Probably the aftertaste of the coffee. “You should ask him out.”
Hazel gaped at her and then laughed. “I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can.” Trudy frowned at her. “You’re a strong, independent woman. You don’t have to wait for an idiot man to get his act together.”
That made Hazel laugh harder. “I know, but Mason doesn’t like me like that.”
“He could.”
“No, he couldn’t. And now he’s off the market.” Sobering, she looked Trudy in the eye. “I’ve known him since he moved in last year. I’ve seen him with the women he goes out with, and he’s never looked at any one of them the way he looks at you.”
Trudy took a step back, her heart hammering. She wanted to block out Hazel’s words as much as she wanted her to repeat them. “You must be mistaken.”
Hazel shook her head. “He might like me, but he likes you. As more than just a friend.”
“I—”
“Mason’s so great,” Hazel said with feeling. She touched Trudy’s arm. “Men like him don’t come around every day. I hope you can see that he’s rare.”
You’re rare , Trudy heard him say in her head.
“But I think you see that.” Hazel smiled at her as she descended the porch. “Have fun tonight. It looks like someone’s in for a great Christmas.”
Trudy looked down at the bags in her hands. They weren’t anything special despite the pretty wrapping: the book she’d bought him, plus some new clothing. If he stopped looking like a clown, she wagered his employees would show him more respect.
On impulse, she’d had the picture the man had taken of them singing on his porch printed and framed, too. She hadn’t been able to resist.
Watching Hazel leave, she remembered the photo and how intimate she and Mason had looked in it. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to give him a visual prompt that might mislead him. She was leaving—she didn’t want him to be attached. Not overly attached, in any case.
Giving it to him was a bad idea.
Trudy rummaged through the bags, took the frame out, and hid it in her purse before ringing his doorbell.
Mason looked tired when he arrived to open the door. Still, he smiled and kissed her hello. “About time you arrived, Gertrude Heathe-Hawkley.”
“I should never have told you my name.” She walked in, banging him with the packages.
“Whatchya got in there?” He tried to peek in a bag. “More lingerie?”
“You wish.” She started up the stairs. “Come tell me about your day, and then I’ll share mine.”
“Yes, dear,” he said with humor, following her up.
She settled in the living room, setting the packages aside and getting out of her layers while he got a “special beverage” for her. He returned with two steaming mugs.
“Mulled wine,” he said proudly, putting the mugs on the coffee table before sitting next to her and putting his head on her shoulder. “Today was a long day.”
She massaged his neck. “Tell me.”
“We’re launching a feature soon, and today it all went to hell. Some work was lost, the rest of it crashed . . .” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. Kissing her collarbone, he lifted his head. “Normally I’d have made everyone work late to fix the situation, but I sent them home.”
She touched her hand to his forehead. “Are you feeling all right?”
He took it, placed a kiss in the middle of her palm, and closed her fingers over it. “It’s your fault. I didn’t want to cancel, and after having the discussion about what workaholics we are, I decided to act differently than usual.”
“How do you feel?”
“Like I made the right
“He’s a man.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s oblivious.”
“Oh good.” Hazel relaxed, her shoulders wilting in relief. “You had me worried for a second.”
“I just wanted you to know I’m leaving in a few days, and then Mason will be free.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth. Probably the aftertaste of the coffee. “You should ask him out.”
Hazel gaped at her and then laughed. “I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can.” Trudy frowned at her. “You’re a strong, independent woman. You don’t have to wait for an idiot man to get his act together.”
That made Hazel laugh harder. “I know, but Mason doesn’t like me like that.”
“He could.”
“No, he couldn’t. And now he’s off the market.” Sobering, she looked Trudy in the eye. “I’ve known him since he moved in last year. I’ve seen him with the women he goes out with, and he’s never looked at any one of them the way he looks at you.”
Trudy took a step back, her heart hammering. She wanted to block out Hazel’s words as much as she wanted her to repeat them. “You must be mistaken.”
Hazel shook her head. “He might like me, but he likes you. As more than just a friend.”
“I—”
“Mason’s so great,” Hazel said with feeling. She touched Trudy’s arm. “Men like him don’t come around every day. I hope you can see that he’s rare.”
You’re rare , Trudy heard him say in her head.
“But I think you see that.” Hazel smiled at her as she descended the porch. “Have fun tonight. It looks like someone’s in for a great Christmas.”
Trudy looked down at the bags in her hands. They weren’t anything special despite the pretty wrapping: the book she’d bought him, plus some new clothing. If he stopped looking like a clown, she wagered his employees would show him more respect.
On impulse, she’d had the picture the man had taken of them singing on his porch printed and framed, too. She hadn’t been able to resist.
Watching Hazel leave, she remembered the photo and how intimate she and Mason had looked in it. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to give him a visual prompt that might mislead him. She was leaving—she didn’t want him to be attached. Not overly attached, in any case.
Giving it to him was a bad idea.
Trudy rummaged through the bags, took the frame out, and hid it in her purse before ringing his doorbell.
Mason looked tired when he arrived to open the door. Still, he smiled and kissed her hello. “About time you arrived, Gertrude Heathe-Hawkley.”
“I should never have told you my name.” She walked in, banging him with the packages.
“Whatchya got in there?” He tried to peek in a bag. “More lingerie?”
“You wish.” She started up the stairs. “Come tell me about your day, and then I’ll share mine.”
“Yes, dear,” he said with humor, following her up.
She settled in the living room, setting the packages aside and getting out of her layers while he got a “special beverage” for her. He returned with two steaming mugs.
“Mulled wine,” he said proudly, putting the mugs on the coffee table before sitting next to her and putting his head on her shoulder. “Today was a long day.”
She massaged his neck. “Tell me.”
“We’re launching a feature soon, and today it all went to hell. Some work was lost, the rest of it crashed . . .” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. Kissing her collarbone, he lifted his head. “Normally I’d have made everyone work late to fix the situation, but I sent them home.”
She touched her hand to his forehead. “Are you feeling all right?”
He took it, placed a kiss in the middle of her palm, and closed her fingers over it. “It’s your fault. I didn’t want to cancel, and after having the discussion about what workaholics we are, I decided to act differently than usual.”
“How do you feel?”
“Like I made the right
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