CHAPTER TEN

Mason

The clinic is quiet. Peaceful even. We somehow got through the morning of scheduled appointments on time today, meaning our lunch break feels like an actual lunch break. There's no one crying in the waiting room, no one pestering me about the wait time. And best of all, there's no Ally here flitting around and yammering to either me or Winnie. The girl seems to never stop talking. Today there's a bit of a reprieve. Ally hasn't been very mobile. Her ankle injury keeps her somewhat limited to the reception desk, so at least my office has been a haven.

Winnie offered to take Ally out for lunch "to get to know her better" and while it's nice to have the clinic to myself, it's the last thing I need. Winnie and Ally are already nightmarish when left to their own devices. They both seem to enjoy bossing me around, so I can only imagine how it will be once they join forces.

I survey the empty waiting room as I sip my coffee. There are some vases on the side tables with an assortment of flowers that weren't there before. The last thing that a clinic needs. What about people with allergies, Ally? I do a lap between the rows of chairs and gather the vases, stashing them in the staff room behind the reception desk even though there's limited counter space already.

The desk bell chimes, and I poke my head around the corner.

"Hey, Mason." Poppy is standing at the desk, holding a bouquet in a glass jar. Another fucking vase full of flowers.

"Poppy. Hi." Is Poppy here to ask me out on a date or something? She lifts the flowers as if that explains her reason for stopping by, which clarifies nothing for me.

"Delivery for Ally," she says. Of course. I reach out and take the bundle of flowers from her. They're beautiful, a generous number of large, fluffy pink petals interspersed with greenery.

"Thanks, Poppy. She's not in at the moment, but I'll put them behind the reception desk." I look at the card that's hanging off the vase, attached with a pink ribbon. Whatever it takes, Al. —N.W. Nate Winslow. On second thought, I won't put them on her desk. They can go straight in the trash.

"I have more. They're out in the car. Do you mind helping me bring them in?" I do mind. I mind very much.

"How many more?"

"A lot,"Poppy says over her shoulder. She's wearing her dark brown bob in wild waves, that bounce as she walks out to the parking lot in front of the clinic.

I follow Poppy out to her car, a yellow Volkswagen bug that is full to the brim with those goddamned peonies. A groan escapes from me, and I see Poppy cringe. I'd rather stab my eyes out with a fork than have anything to do with this, but it's not Poppy's fault, and she can't be driving around with a hundred flowers in her car forever.

I gather an armful of bouquets and begrudgingly start helping Poppy bring them inside. They can live behind reception for now, but they are going the minute Ally gets back from lunch. She can take them to the cabin on her own, too. I don't care what she does with them, but they're not staying here.

"I'll just need you to sign for them." Poppy holds out a clipboard for me to sign. I'm in the middle of scrawling my signature across the page when the door to the clinic opens. Ally and Winnie come sauntering through, at least, Ally saunters as much as one with a sprained ankle can. They're laughing with each other like a couple of hyenas.

"I'm glad to see you ladies had a delightful time," I say with a hint of sarcasm. More than a hint, maybe.

"Mason, what's all this?" Winnie glances around at the piles of flowers all over the reception desk.

"This is a little extravagant for an apology, but okay, fine. I accept." Ally wanders behind the desk, picks a bouquet up and lifts it to her nose. "How did you know peonies are my favourite?" She flutters her eyelashes in an exaggerated swoon.

I bristle at the comment, a growl rising in my throat.Ally is treading too close to the line I drew about not mentioning our agreement in public. Even though I'm sure everyone knows by now.

"They're not from me," I grumble. The way Ally's mouth curves up into a smile indicates she knows exactly what she's doing, getting under my skin.

"Oh? Who sent them?" Ally searches the bouquet she's holding for a card.

"Three guesses and the first two don't count. You know what?" I throw my hands up in the air, a demonstration that I want nothing to do with this situation. "I don't care. Just get them out of here." I start down the hall towards my office. This is a colossal waste of my first decent lunch break in months.

"Are we going out on house calls today?" Ally calls after me, and I stop short, circling back.

"We"—I gesture between us—"aren't doing anything. Besides, you'll be too busy this afternoon getting these flowers the hell out of my clinic." I don't care if she takes five hours hobbling around on one foot to do it. Ally's cerulean eyes just about bulge right out of her beautiful face.

I don't care.

I storm back down the hall and into my office, slamming the door shut behind me.

"Word has it you found yourself a girlfriend, Mason?" My brother jeers at me from under raised eyebrows across the dinner table. "Took you long enough. Thirty-two years is a long time to have your virginity intact."

"Jett …" Winnie warns. She's well-accustomed to our brotherly banter and playful teasing, but she draws the line when we're all together for Friday night dinner. It's her time to spend with us, and she prefers it when we pretend to like each other. Plus, it's been a while since the four of us have been under one roof like this. Between my work at the clinic and Jett being out of town training for his ski competitions, it's hard to find time when we can all sit down to dinner like this. The least Jett could do was hold off on being an asshat for one night.

I huff a half-hearted laugh in response to Jett's comment, stuffing my face with the last bite of food on my plate so I don't say something I'll regret. Arguing his point is only going to do the opposite of what I want, which is to steer the conversation away from my sex life. I'm no virgin, but I've also had a very dry spell for longer than I'm willing to discuss.

"Hey, I'm not the one airing my dirty laundry in front of the whole town at trivia, of all places."

"Enough, Jett." This time it's Grady that gives him the warning. I'm not one to bite when Jett starts his teasing. As the youngest of all of us, he's made it his personal duty to be a shit disturber most of the time. But he's trying to rile me up, and I no longer have the willpower to not say anything. Broadcasting my relationship with Ally, whatever it is at this point, wasn't something I chose. I'm still trying to decipher the terms of this fake boyfriend agreement myself. I swallow my bite and wash it down with a swig of beer.

"At least I have a relationship. I'm not going around banging snow bunnies and forgetting their names the next day." I'm not about to admit to them that this relationship isn't real. That fact will only add fuel to Jett's fire. Real girlfriend's too much work for you? I can already imagine the roasting.

"Not in front of Winnie," Hudson chimes in. Hudson is the peacemaker among us, and he takes his role seriously, no matter how impossible the task proves to be. Jett places his cutlery down on his plate and leans back in his chair. The way he brings his hands behind his head as he watches me makes me want to leap across the table at him. I love Jett as my baby brother, but man, that kid's got an ego on him. By the smirk on his face, I can tell that he's preparing another snarky quip, so I change the subject.

Standing up from my seat at the large oak dining table, I gather the empty plates and used cutlery from in front of Winnie, Grady, and Hudson. Jett can clear his own damn dishes.

"Thank you for a delicious dinner, Winnie." I lean down, balancing the plates in my hand, and give her a peck on the cheek. Winnie didn't have to step in to help my dad out after Mom passed away. But she did. And she accepted us, quirks and all, no matter how infuriating we can be.

Grady and Hudson stand up from the table and echo my gratitude, each giving her a quick hug on their way into the living room. The Friday night dinner tradition was born out of need. The original purpose was to give my dad a break from four rowdy boys to catch up on work or have some peace, but it has since turned into something we all look forward to.

Jett stands up last, bringing his plate to the sink where I've already started washing up. I'm surprised he even does that, although he drops it into the sink with a loud clatter before following the others into the living room.

They all mean well, but as the oldest, I've always been the most responsible of the group. I've never resented them for it. Scratch that. I resent Jett a little. More than anything, I envy the fact that they got to have a real childhood. None of them were old enough to remember Mom or the toll that her death took on Dad. None of them witnessed the way he changed, because they didn't experience the way he was before. Not like I did.

Winnie sits at the dining table, swirling her wine in her glass and surveying me as I sink my hands beneath the soapy water.

"Jett teases, but he's got a point." She takes a nonchalant sip from her glass as if what she just said won't irk the hell out of me.

"Don't say that too loud, Winnie. I don't think his head could get much bigger," I say between gritted teeth.

"What is this thing with Ally, anyway?" I don't look up from my task. I don't want to be having this conversation.

"It's nothing, Winnie. Nothing you need to worry about. This whole thing is my mess to clean up." A mess that I didn't make or even agree to make. I just got dragged into it against my will, and I have Ally to thank for that. My eyes roll thinking about Ally. She and Jett might make a compatible pair. They're both just as flaky and immature.

"It is my business if I'm going to be working at the clinic with her."

I can't argue with Winnie about that. She's the one who's going to be spending most of her time with Ally, not me. Not if I can help it.

"Don't worry about the clinic. I won't be making any grand displays of affection at work or anything. It's not real. I only agreed to play the part of her boyfriend so she can get rid of her ex-fiancé."I confide.

"The guy from trivia night? Who showed up flashing around his stupid Rolex like at any given moment someone could snap a picture of him and put it in GQ?"

"That's the one." Even just talking about Nate makes my blood pressure rise.

"Hm. I'm guessing he's the same one who sent all the flowers today. The ones I helped her move over to the cabin." I can see the gears turning in Winnie's head. "That's disappointing."

"Yeah, he is disappointing," I agree.

"That's not what I meant."

"You need to get your head checked, Winnie." I focus my gaze on the dish that I'm washing, and I realize I'm scrubbing so hard that I might break the plate. I ease up my grip."I want nothing to do with Ally. Never will."

"Don't close yourself off just yet, Mason."

"You forget, I wasn't the one that wanted to bring her here in the first place."

"I haven't forgotten. You've reminded me, multiple times."

"I'm just saying." I place the last dish upside down on a towel next to the sink and turn to face Winnie. "She's not my cup of tea. Nor do I even have time to drink tea."

I don't know where I'm going with this analogy. The point is, there is no room in my life for a relationship. Not with the state of the clinic and my responsibilities to the town. I can't afford to divide my attention. Even if I wanted a relationship, Ally is the last person I want to get involved with. Someone who quits their job in healthcare to go on a reality show doesn't have much substance. There's no telling when she'll tire of her job at the clinic and dart off somewhere else.

"She's a sweet girl, and quite a looker. Don't tell me you haven't thought about her as more than a co-worker." I can't lie to Winnie, so I say nothing at all. The honest-to-God truth is that I have thought about it. Once, for about three seconds. The three seconds Ally stood in the driveway wrinkling her nose at me, when she put her hand on her hip in that stubborn, defiant way of hers. If I'm being transparent, once more when her vibrator fell out of her bag. Anyone would have gone there in their mind. It doesn't mean anything. Certainly not that I should jump into bed with her.

Just as quickly as I entertain the idea of Ally, I try to put her out of my head.

"Ally doesn't care about the things I care about; she would never understand my commitment to the clinic, for one." I deflect.

"No? I think as a nurse, she would understand more than anyone."

"She quit her job as a nurse. She quit her job to go on reality television. I hardly think that qualifies her as a nurse. At least not one who takes her job seriously." I counter.

"I wouldn't count her out just yet. I think she's made of sterner stuff than you give her credit for."

"Even if that were the case—which it's not," I clarify. I wouldn't have Winnie going and getting the wrong idea. I'm already in too deep with Ally as it is, having agreed to be her fake boyfriend for the week. Is anything in her life genuine? "I just don't have the time or the space in my life to be getting involved with anyone. And even if I did, it would be a repeat of my father, neglecting his family to take care of someone else's."

"I just hate to see you close yourself off to the life that's out there for you, Mason." Winnie's voice sounds almost sad and it breaks my heart. There is no other way, and the sooner she realizes that, the better. Life outside of work doesn't exist for people like me. People who took an oath to help people, to save lives. Even without a relationship, I'm coming up short.

"People die." It comes out as a whisper. "People die when I'm not there."

Winnie furrows her brow, an almost pitying look sweeping over her face. It isn't pity but concern that shadows her expression.

"That wasn't your fault, Mason. There was nothing you could do."

I don't even know why I brought it up. Of course, it was my fault. I wasn't available when someone, a child, needed me the most.

The sound of the TV drifts from the living room adjacent to the kitchen and fills the silence that stretches between Winnie and me.

"Finding love takes guts, brains, and determination. Can these contestants strategize and woo the partner of their dreams? Let's find out, on Stolen Love …"

You've gotta be kidding me. I'm trying to put Ally Wells out of my head. I don't want her in my living room, even if she is just on the screen. It's still too close for comfort.

I stomp through the kitchen and round the corner to see my three brothers fixated on the TV as the producers are interviewing Ally for her talking head segment. Seeing her on the show like this, she seems like a stranger. She's got about ten pounds of makeup on her face for one, but despite how made up she is, I can see that familiar sparkle in her eye.

" I've got my eye on one man here already. Nate gives me butterflies. I can't tell if I'm smitten with him or just nervous around him, but he's exciting."

Ally talking about Nate that way after seeing how she behaved around him at the bar sets me on edge. Nate had her fooled right from the start. Something about watching this makes me feel like I'm infringing on her privacy. Ally avoided indulging me in the details of the show like the plague, so this feels like I'm breaching her trust. I don't care about Ally's feelings much, but I don't want to put myself in an awkward position the next time I see her at work.

Even as the thought crosses my mind, I can't help but feel a tugging in my chest for Ally. The way her smile dropped when she saw Nate enter the bar. The way her shoulders slumped as she backed down from our fight in the bathroom. Nate had done that to her. Nate had taken this bright, beautiful woman and made her a shell of herself. I won't condone glamourizing that type of behaviour and giving it any attention.

I cross the living room and hit the button on the side of the TV, and the screen goes dark.

"What the hell, Mason, we were just getting into that." Jett is the one to argue. Not surprising.

"We're not watching Stolen Love. Pick something else." The growl in my voice catches me off guard. Why am I getting so worked up over a stupid show?

"We want to get to know your girlfriend, man," Grady added.

"We are not watching this show. That's final."I flop down on the couch and keep my eyes fixed straight ahead at the now black screen.

"It's all good, Mason." Hudson gives me a soft smile. He's always been my favourite, although he could have more of a backbone sometimes. He picks up the remote and flicks through the list of top new releases on Netflix before everyone agrees to watch some new action movie. Everyone except for me. I'm more of a classic '90s rom-com guy. Something about Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks gets me every time. But I sit in silence and watch the opening scene. I've never admitted that I prefer romantic comedies to my brothers. It's a self-preservation tactic. I'd never live it down.

I yawn about halfway through the movie when my phone buzzes in my pocket and startles me awake. I pull it out, and Ally Wells' name lights up my screen. I can never get away from her, not at work, not at Winnie's, not even in my own thoughts. Ally Wells has been occupying every waking minute of my life since she arrived, and it's pissing me off.

I open her message.

Ally: Sorry to pester.

Yeah, sure you are I think. Then, in another message,

Ally: I'm out of firewood, and I'm kind of freezing over here.

I shut off my phone screen and put it back in my pocket. Ally can figure out how to cut her own damn firewood. I remember her injured ankle from last night, the way she hobbled into the cabin when I dropped her off. Not an ankle that she should stand on to chop wood. Whatever. I'm sure she could figure out if she could stop being so prim for five minutes of her life. Ally is always well-groomed and put together. Sure, she doesn't wear the same amount of makeup as she wore for the show. That obviously isn't her preference. But she still comes to work in a matching set of colourful scrubs every day, her hair in that infuriatingly bouncy ponytail that just screams high-strung.

I glance out the window at the long shadows forming across Winnie's yard. The sun has set, and here in the valley of the mountains, that means it's about to get cold. As indifferent as I am towards Ally, I'm not a complete asshole. I hate the thought of anyone shivering in the dark, freezing. I may as well get this over with.

"I'm gonna have to cut this party short. I'm needed at the clinic." I stand up off the couch. Winnie has joined us in the living room, and she's staring right through to my soul. She can see through the lie. She has the same pager I do, and we both know it didn't go off. Winnie has an impeccable bullshit detector, and she also knows there's only one thing, one person, I would choose to lie about right now.

I shoot her a pleading look not to say anything. It's bad enough that my brothers are roasting me for how long it took me to find a girlfriend, let alone the fact that it's not even an actual relationship. I can only imagine what they would think if they knew that I'm jumping up the second she texts me, too. I can just hear Jett. The word whipped clangs through my head in his sneering voice.

I would go over to check on anyone if they were staying in the cabin with no firewood. This has nothing to do with the fact that it just happens to be Ally Wells.