Robyn glanced over her shoulder, then lowered her voice. “I’m in. Anything to keep me from having the same conversation with Mindy.”
twenty-five
MASON PARKED JUST off State Street. He’d never been a wine tasting kind of guy, but it appeared he was unable to refuse Robyn anything. She hadn’t even been trying all that hard. She’d simply walked into his office, smiled and asked if he wanted to go with her, Harlow and Mindy. Mindy, who did nothing but cry all day long. Even at dinner, she frequently dissolved into tears before excusing herself and racing out of the room, the sounds of her sobs getting fainter and fainter until she locked herself in her third-floor room.
He wasn’t big on female tears. Break an arm, sure. Lose someone you loved, yup. Go for it. But crying as the result of stupidity—he had no patience for it.
But here he was, getting out of his car, ready to taste a bunch of pansy-assed wines with a woman who probably cried more when she was drunk. He needed to get his head on straight. That or take Robyn to bed, make love with her for real and then not give a shit about the rest of the world.
Cheered by that image, he managed a smile when Harlow asked him if he was excited about their outing.
“Can’t wait,” he told her.
She grinned. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the wine tasting type.”
“I always enjoy learning new things.”
She eyed him. “Can you be rattled, even a little?”
Involuntarily, he glanced at her mother and saw Robyn’s little smirk.
“Every now and then,” he admitted, returning his attention to Harlow. “But not that often.”
They crossed the street and entered a wine tasting room. Mason glanced around, assuming the beamed ceiling and oddly paned windows were meant to replicate a wine cellar. Fake ivy was artfully draped along the walls, and a couple of murals looped around arched doorways.
“How quaint,” Mindy murmured, looking around.
A woman in her late twenties smiled and approached them. “Welcome,” she said. “You’re just in time for our afternoon tasting.” She motioned to a menu on a chalkboard. “You simply have to decide on how many wines you’d like to taste and if you’d prefer whites, reds or a mix.” She smiled. “Then I can get you a table for four.”
They were shown to a table on the shaded patio and handed tasting menus. The three women discussed what they would order. Mason pushed the menu to the side.
“I’ll have a soda.”
Robyn frowned. “Why? You like wine.”
“I’m driving.”
“I want to push back on that,” she admitted. “It doesn’t seem fair that you should be the designated driver.”
His dark gaze locked with hers. “You can push all you want.”
“You can’t be moved?”
“Oh, I can be moved, but I won’t be drinking.”
Her eyes dilated slightly, and she swayed toward him. He had a feeling she’d forgotten they weren’t alone. He forced himself to look away and asked, “What looks good, Mindy?”
“I don’t know,” her weepy friend said. “I wonder if I could get a few doubles.”
Two hours later, Mason escorted the ladies back to his car. Robyn and Harlow were slightly buzzed, in a charming, relaxed way. Mindy had teared up twice at the table, making him look longingly for the exits.
They managed to get her into the car without her bursting into tears, and he drove directly back to the house. The sooner he was away from her, the better.
He pulled into the driveway only to see an unfamiliar rental car by the garage.
“We have company,” he said, looking around to see who had rented the Toyota. Just then a guy with glasses and thinning hair stepped out of the house. Beside him, Robyn stiffened.
“Payne?” Mindy said from the backseat. “Is that Payne?”
“The husband,” Robyn whispered.
“Good thing it’s a big house,” Mason murmured.
He put the car in Park, and they all got out. Mindy walked toward her husband, her steps hesitant.
“What are you doing here?”
He stared at her, obviously miserable. “You’re my wife. Where else would I be?”
“You told me you’d never forgive me.”
“I don’t know if I can, but don’t you think we should talk about it?”
Mindy burst into tears. Mason grabbed Robyn and Harlow by the upper arms and hustled them both inside.
“Run,” he said quietly when they were in the kitchen. “Run and hide.”
Harlow grinned at him. “I thought you were some tough soldier. You’re supposed to stand and fight.”
“Every day, no problem. But not with the weeper around. God knows what Payne’s going to start yelling.” He grimaced. “What if they both start crying?”
“A nightmare,” Harlow said solemnly.
“Damned straight.”
She waved at them. “I’m going to check on Lillian. Then I have a FaceTime call with Kip. I’ll take the secret staircases and avoid the main hallways. I suggest you two do the same.”
Mason looked at Robyn. “Was I too harsh about your friend?”
Her blue eyes were bright with laughter. “No, and I admire your ability to say exactly what I’m thinking, only in a more direct way.”
She put her hands on his chest and smiled at him. “Do you know what I’m thinking now?”
Heat poured into him, making him hard and hungry in less than a heartbeat.
“I believe I do.”
“Did you get to the store?”
“I have a box of condoms sitting in my nightstand.”
“Oh, goody.” She raised herself on tiptoes and lightly kissed him. “Want to go make sure they fit?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
* * *
“It’s been quiet for a while now,” Robyn said, sitting across from Lillian in the breakfast room. It was nearly ten in the morning, and they were having tea and scones. A very civilized way to enjoy life, she thought.
Of course these days she was pretty much happy all the time—the result of dozens of Mason-induced orgasms.
They had been lovers—real lovers—for nearly thirty-six hours. They’d spent the past two nights together, touching, exploring, learning and pleasing each other. There hadn’t been enough sleep, but that was for later. Right now she was enjoying the feeling of general well-being and smug satisfaction.
“They could be sleeping,” Lillian said, putting jam on her scone. “Or maybe they’re having sex.”
Payne and Mindy had been holed up in her room for much of the past day and a half. They’d appeared briefly for dinner, Mindy looking red-eyed and defeated, Payne seeming more confused than angry. But since then, no one had seen them. There had been plenty of shouting and crying, but little else.
“I hope it’s sex,” Lillian added with a smile. “That’s so much more interesting than fighting.”
Before Robyn could figure out what to say to that, Austin walked in, looking tall and tanned and happy. She rushed to him.
“You’re back! How was the trip? Did you like UC San Diego? Is it a contender?”
She told herself to stop talking so much. Austin being interested in going to college was its own reward. Pushing wouldn’t help. Her youngest made up his own mind, in his own time.