Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ainsley

We are in deep concentration, going from one cave to the next as we search for the last published book, careful not to get killed while shooting the bad guys during Destiny, my favorite video game. Mason and I play it at least an hour every night before preparing for bed. Between real history stuff and being the last humans alive, I love it.

Right as the enemy ambushes us, Mason receives a text. His eyes harden, and his face freezes while he reads it. My chest constricts. It's another crazy mission. After he rescued Porter, I'm not crazy about seeing him go and risk his life. Not that I'll ever tell him about it.

"What's with the face?" I ask as he checks his phone one more time.

"My mother, she texted me."

I should tell him that texting is a standard practice. What is it with his narrowed stare and worried stance?

"Is everything all right with Mina?" There's an increasing need to know inside of my inquisitive mind. I fidget with the tiny joystick as I wait for an answer.

"No, she wants me to pick her up from Sea-Tac. Now."

The airport is a good forty-minute drive from my house. Right now sounds too soon.

"She hates hotels. I don't know where to put her."

Of course, he doesn't have a place. The plan three weeks ago had been to search for an apartment, but after rescuing Porter and the issues he's having with one of the agencies he consults for, it's been close to impossible to find time to search.

"I have a couple of guest rooms," I prompt.

Mason shakes his head.

"Mase, she'll be comfortable here."

"Husband number… I lost count… is coming with her."

Number seven, I want to say, but I don't want to wake the bear within him. Mason, like any other healthy child whose mother has married several times, hates her husbands.

"I appreciate your offer, but… no."

"Grab your car keys." I save the game and turn off the console. "We're going, you're bringing them here, and that's the end of the story, Mase."

He doesn't move. Mason can regress for many years. As many as back to age five and throw a silent hissy fit. This is one of them. His arms cross his chest, and his jaw tightens.

"What is wrong?"

"If she stays with you, I have to go back to my office and sleep on the couch," he finally confesses. "No sex until she's gone. We're at that stage where I can't think of anything other than being inside you."

I don't get what the big deal is. If he's that self-conscious, he can call my brothers and stay with them. Not his office.

"You're always thinking of us having sex?"

"Of course." He rolls his eyes as if I can doubt the obvious. "You're hot, and with those sexy panties you wear every day, my mind can only guess what's the pick of the day. You never let me see what you choose before leaving for work."

"Panties? The ones you steal at night?"

"I bring them back after work, they help me through the day."

"That's why I decided not to wear any today." I lift my plaid skirt a few inches to give him a glimpse.

The man swings me to his side like a rag doll. This time there's no mercy on my lips.

"You're wearing panties, liar." He sneaks a finger in between the fabric, sliding inside me and making me moan. "Shit," he growls. His cock already pushing against my thigh, his calloused fingers rubbing my clit as they push themselves inside me.

"Now, Mase, I can't wait." I start unzipping his jeans.

"You're going to drain me," he whispers as I lower myself and lose myself in the moment.

"Are you sure this is okay with you?"

"Yes, Mason Bradley." This is the tenth time he has asked me the question.

"Did you use sex to distract me?"

I clamp my lips together and refuse to answer the question. I wasn't going to, but he gave me the perfect idea when I was desperate to make a point: his mother had to stay with me. Of course, now I'm chewing my lip because Mrs. Reality knocked me down with full force. My boyfriend's mother is staying with me. Not any woman. His mother. She's going to judge me, hate me, and… What else do mothers do?

"Does she know about me?"

"No." He takes his eyes off the road for mere seconds.

My hands slam against my face.

"Of course, she knows about you. She's known about you since you were little, Nine."

"I don't mean that way." I toss my head against the seat and roll my eyes. "Girlfriend. I am, right?"

"Oh, that detail. You are?"

I groan like a wounded bear.

"It's a joke, damn. You get feisty when you're nervous. Take it easy. Yes, she knows you, and she's aware you and I are dating. You hold the girlfriend title, the girl who tamed me, my other half, the one who holds the key to my cell, and that's why I stick around."

I suck on my lip as I gift him a deep, stern glare. "You are so not funny."

"Oh, I am." He laughs as I sear with panic, fear, and unamused anger.

My entire body is shaking at the prospect of having the woman in my house for however long she's staying.

"How long is she staying?" I'm trying to figure out my schedule for the next few days.

"She didn't say."

A response that won't help me with the jitters eating the insides of my stomach or with planning. Ugh, I put myself into this situation. Great.

"Stop," he orders. "I'm the only one allowed to nibble those lips. They're mine."

He takes my hand and kisses the inside of my wrist. Then his finger caresses my skin, soothing the knotted nerves.

"She's going to like you."

Not love me? My world is in danger of crumbling as I learn that winning over his mom may be a bigger challenge than I already thought.

"Oh, God!" I finally let the excruciating panic out. "What is she going to think about me?" The question spews from my subconscious. "That we're going too fast. You're practically living in my house, which I love. Each day a new pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and some other item, find a spot in my closet. Scott lives next to Eleanor. Tucker stays at my parents."

"Huh, you just noticed?" He kisses my hand again. "To clarify, I'm not living with you. I have a few items around to make things simpler when I stay overnight. That brings me to another issue: stop naming my stuff. It's a car, not Scott. A truck, not Tucker." He pats the dashboard.

"Ready?" He taps my nose with his free hand. "Let me see that beautiful smile of yours. That ‘I'm about to die' look isn't flattering. Here they are."

Mason parks the car in front of a couple. Mr. and Mrs. Daugherty wait for us outside the terminal with their luggage. Mason's stepfather is only a couple of inches taller than his wife. He's bald but with handsome features.

"Wait here," Mason orders.

Mason's mom is beautiful. She's an inch or two taller than me, maybe five-seven. Porcelain skin with dark eyes and delicate, soft features. Her dark hair and smooth complexion are just like I remembered from childhood. Mason looks a lot like her, well, except for his stormy eyes. They're all Arthur's. Due to airport restrictions, within seconds, Mason shoves their luggage in the trunk and helps his mom into the car as his stepfather did not offer.

"Mother, you remember Ainsley Colthurst-Decker, better known as Nine, or the girl I casually date." He uses his dorky jokester voice, and I narrow my eyes at him. "Sorry, my lovely girlfriend."

We exchanged pleasantries, and she introduced me to Mr. Daugherty.

"I'd always known you'd be pretty," she mentions. "It's good to see you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Daugherty."

"No, call me Mina," she corrects me. "Thank you for picking us up, Son."

Mason mumbles something under his breath. I ignore him.

"I'm glad you're visiting." I try to start a conversation with the clumsiest voice I own.

"Well, I haven't seen Mason in such a long time." She pulls out her phone and slides her finger over the screen.

"Yes, a long time." She holds the phone up, showing me her calendar. "It was before Thanksgiving of last year. That's, of course, his normal behavior."

The woman is keeping track, scary.

"I had work, Mom." He clears his throat. "A few months ago, when I arrived home… I came across this batshit crazy girl, and I haven't been able to shake her off my side."

I slap him on the arm. "Almost six months, Mason Bradley," I add, straightening my posture and tilting my chin. A huge deal for me when at the beginning of our relationship, we had too many lows and highs.

"Six months?" her astonished tone matches the big eyes. "You never stay that long in one place. Well, I'm sure a couple of weeks will bring me up to speed on what is happening with you." Then she gives me a sweet smile. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you."

Crap. Two weeks.