CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Ally

I take a deep inhale of the crisp morning air as I make my way into town. It's Saturday, and even though yesterday was utter mayhem at the clinic, I feel refreshed and inspired. Mason and I stayed late trying to see as many walk-in patients as we could manage between us, and then we stayed even later talking in his office.

Mason has been oddly cordial towards me since he let me come out on his house calls, which is puzzling considering how the day had ended. One phone call had been enough for him to almost completely shut down and shut me out for the rest of the afternoon. We went to the rest of the visits, hardly speaking a word to one another, and all he gave me was an abrupt nod when he dropped me off at the cabin in the evening. Whatever troubled him about that conversation seemed to dissipate, and Mason was downright pleasant at work yesterday .

Mason Landry is an enigma if there ever was one. We're in this sort of push and pull where he opens up to me one minute and gives me a small piece of himself before ripping it away in the next. Still, it was refreshing to see him let loose with Annabelle, even if his high spirits only lasted a short time. He seems at least fractionally more human to me now. Not to mention the fact that my ovaries violently exploded all over my insides watching him play with that sweet little girl.

I presented the idea of a fundraiser to him yesterday, navigating the eggshells I seem to walk on around him right now. How Mason receives new ideas and suggestions depends entirely on his mood. But the prenatal program is a good, no, great idea, and I'm not about to let him bulldoze me on this one. If money is the issue, it's an issue we can fix. Finding people who want to help and support the clinic is the easy part.

Mason was supportive as I presented my idea for a Harvest Festival. He agreed that the people of Heartwood would be all for it and even suggested we include a lumberjack competition to draw people in. We hashed out some of the loose plans and decided to hold it on the first day of fall. With September almost halfway over, the plan is ambitious and needs to be executed swiftly.

So it wasn't difficult to convince him that we need to get started on the planning today, and the first step is to canvas local business owners to see who might participate and make donations or offer services. I offered to do it myself, considering this was my idea, and but he insisted it would play in our favour if we were both there. Don't ask me how having Grumpy McGee along for the ride is the best way to win people over.

Mason is already standing outside Thistle + Thorne as I approach him on the sidewalk. He's looking a lot brighter these days, and he's started to grow on me over the last week. We've been avoiding each other less and less at the clinic, and more importantly, Mason has asked me for my opinion on various things, treatment options for patients and the like. I'm feeling more valued around the clinic, giving me a sense of fulfilment that I haven't had in a long time. I'm almost tempted to consider him a friend, but I don't want to get ahead of myself.

Mason greets me with a warm smile when he sees me approaching. It's his bright, genuine smile—the one that makes his eyes wrinkle in a way that makes my heart swell. I've been seeing it more and more recently. It always feels like I've achieved an impossible feat whenever Mason smiles because of me.

"I got you a coffee while I was waiting so we could get started." Mason turns around and picks up two cups off the little bistro table outside the café. "Splash of milk, two honeys, right?"

"Yeah, how did you—" I can't remember telling him my coffee order.

"You come in with one every day at work, and then you make several throughout the day. It was hard not to notice, Honeybee." I take my coffee from him. My fingers graze his, sending a jolt of electricity through my arm and straight to my chest. I get this strange urge to tell him not to pull his hand away, and to my surprise, he doesn't. He lets it linger a moment longer than I expect. I don't miss the way his gaze flicks down toward my hand, right where my engagement ring used to be, as if confirming that I have gotten rid of it for good.

"Where should we start?" I say, clearing my throat. Mason drops his hand to his side and shoves it into his pocket. "We've got a lot of ground to cover."

"I say we start right here, talk to Poppy. She isn't crazy busy at the moment. We can make our way down the street from there. That way, we'll be able to hit most businesses before lunch."

"I like your style, Dr. Landry."

Poppy is finishing up another customer's latte and passing it over the counter when we enter. Her face brightens when she spies us over the espresso machine.

"Back for more caffeine already? I might have to cut you off, Mason."

I like Poppy. We always chat while I grab my coffee on the way into the clinic. Now, I come to the café less for the coffee and more to hang out with her. Though every time I see her, I get a sickening feeling in my gut that I'm lying to her about Mason and me.

"No, now that Ally's here, we have something we want to talk to you about." Mason answers.

"Don't tell me we're going to have another brawl over the turkey sandwiches. I don't want to hire a security guard," Poppy says, waving her finger between us.

A blush spreads from my cheeks and down my neck. I've somehow forgotten all about that awkward encounter with Mason. He seems like a different person to me now.

"Hey, I stand by my judgment of the turkey sandwich," Mason argues.

"To be fair, now that I've tried all of them, I hate to admit it, but you were right. Although you didn't have to be such an ass about it," I tease.

"At least someone calls Mason out on his bullshit." Poppy and Mason have known each other since they were kids. They grew up together, although Poppy is a few years younger than him. I've pressed Poppy several times for more information about when I stop in for coffee, but she's never divulged any details. "Well, what can I do for ya?" She asks.

"We're trying to organize a fundraiser for the clinic," Mason starts, but gestures to me to follow up, seeing as I'm the one with all the ideas.

"It would be valuable if we could start running a prenatal program through the clinic, and we're wondering if you could help." I tell Poppy all about our plan to help educate the new moms in town and give them a place to come for extra support once they've had their babies. Poppy is thrilled by the idea of the Harvest Festival and doesn't hesitate to offer up her services. She'll take care of hot beverages and snacks, and she'll donate a prize to be raffled off. Two, actually. A basket full of coffee and tea, and the other will come from her adjoining plant shop.

"That went well. I think we're off to a great start," Mason says as we leave the café.

"Poppy likes you. I didn't think it would be a challenge to get her on board."

"At least someone likes me." Mason looks at me, his gaze burning through me.

"There's more than Poppy. I mean, there's Grady and Hudson. Who knows, maybe Jett? Possibly Winnie." I wink at Mason. "That's lots of people."

"They're family. They're kind of forced to like me." Mason chuckles. "What about you, Ally?"

I squint at him, lifting my hand to block my eyes from the sun.

"You're growing on me," I admit.

We finish canvassing for the day as the sun is making its descent in the sky. Overall, it's been a very successful day. Not only is catering covered, thanks to Grady, who volunteered the bar's kitchen to make mass amounts of burgers, but we also secured more raffle prizes and people willing to volunteer their services than we know what to do with.

"I think this deserves a celebratory drink," Mason suggests as we make our way back through town. He stops as we come back around to the Whiskey Jack.

"Er, I'm not sure. There's still a lot of work to do, Mason. I was going to go home and start getting all of this organized." I'm reluctant to accept an invitation to spend more time with Mason.

There's still so much I don't know about him, but the warmth that spreads from my core down my legs whenever I look at him isn't a coincidence anymore. I'm finding myself more and more attracted to Mason. It's dangerous territory getting involved with your boss, and I still have so much to figure out with Nate here; it would be like lighting the fuse on an atomic bomb. A fake relationship with this man is more than I can handle right now.

"We can do it together after; I'll help. Come on, one drink." Mason puts his hand between my shoulder blades as he reaches to open the bar's big wooden door. The sensation of it makes my toes curl.

"Fine. Just one, and then we should get back to work."

The bar is dark compared to the blinding sun outside, and it takes my eyes a minute to adjust. As soon as the inside of the bar comes into view, I spy Nate seated alone at the bar top.

"Mason, I think we should leave," I say, but it's too late. I've spoken loud enough for Nate to hear, and he whips his head around and spots me standing at the door. He slinks over to me like some villain from a Disney movie.

"Ally Wells. Care to join me for a date night?" My voice catches in my throat. I need Nate to leave already, but now I have no recourse. Mason gave me a week of his time as a fake boyfriend, and he already offered me another day. There's no way he will continue to play the role in such a public place. The rumours it would start would be inescapable. Why does his presence make me freeze like this? My mouth is full of cotton balls. I hate that I can't get over my fear of confronting him and tell him to get out of town.

Right when I feel like I'm ready to scream, I feel the familiar warmth of Mason's hand on my back again, and my nervous system settles. Crashing, violent waves become a gentle ripple in a calm pond.

"She's already on a date."

"Mason, you don't have to do this; we're in public," I whisper out the side of my mouth, hoping that Nate doesn't overhear.

"I know, and I don't care, Honeybee." Mason turns back to Nate. "I would leave now if I were you. You don't want to mess with the bouncer here." Mason nods toward Grady at the bar, whose biceps are flexing and tensing as he dries a glass. I can't help but smile at how such a domestic task makes Grady appear so tough and intimidating.

"You're actually with this moron." Nate spits. At least he's getting the hint.

"Yeah, she is with this moron, a moron that went to med school and runs his own practice," Mason retorts.

"Don't let him get under your skin, Mason," I warn. I'm worried that they might get into a full-on fistfight. Mason is easily ruffled, especially when his pride is attacked. Nate is a dirty fighter, too. He knows where to hit, and it's always below the belt.

I shoot Grady a pleading look, who has turned his attention from polishing glasses to the commotion that is going on over the bar top.

He strides over and puts himself between Nate and Mason. He has a foot on Nate and uses it to his advantage.

"Time to go, mate." Grady is a man of few words, but they sure pack a punch. Nate isn't about to mess with him, and he turns on his heels and stalks off.

"Thanks, Grady." I give him a sheepish smile.

"Don't sweat it. I'm glad you two are an item."

"Oh no, we are not —I mean, we're not together," I stammer, looking over at Mason. I need to stop this gossip train fast, but Grady isn't one to go talking, and there's no one else in the bar to overhear.

Grady gives me a skeptical expression and shrugs his shoulders, wandering back to his work behind the bar.

"Could have fooled me."

I convince Mason to leave the bar after our run-in with Nate. I don't want to be anywhere in public where he could continue harassing me, nor do I want any ideas of Mason and me being together to get around more than they already have. Mason doesn't object and suggests we head back to the clinic to continue our work on the Harvest Festival.

The clinic is dark when we arrive. No one has been here all day. Mason only comes in on weekends for emergencies, and luckily today, his pager has been quiet.

"We could have worked at the cabin." I walk into Mason's office, noticing the cot set up behind the door. The sleeping bag is rumpled and open like Mason had just been sleeping in it. I wonder how often he goes home to sleep, shower, or do something besides work. Nate spent a lot of late nights at the office, too. Although I'm not so sure Nate had been working. Mason throws the sleeping bag together and straightens it out as if he were making his bed.

"Would we have gotten much work done back at the cabin?" He turns to look at me. His stare is intense, motivated, although now I enjoy being at the centre of his focus. When Mason looks at me, I feel like I'm the only person on earth. I'm not sure whether he means to be suggestive or friendly, but I can only assume the latter.

"I'm thrilled with our progress today." I switch gears, back to a neutral topic of discussion. Mason runs his hand through the top of his hair, a move that makes me notice his inner bicep and a black tattoo. Unlike Grady, who wears his tattoos proudly, Mason keeps his covered most of the time, as if it serves as a personal reminder only for him.

From here, though, I can make out the shape of a bear, filled in with a scenic view of mountains that are the spitting image of the mountains around Heartwood. The sight of him in his fitted T-shirt makes my cheeks heat. Like he's allowing me into some intimate part of himself.

"Me too. I'm surprised at how much of an interest you've taken in the clinic."

"It's my job too now, you know." I lean against the desk as Mason walks around and pulls out the bottle of scotch he keeps stashed in the bottom drawer. He pours us both a glass before meeting me around the front of the big wooden desk.

"I guess I didn't expect you to care so much." I study his face.

"Why do you care so much? I mean, I know it was your father's clinic, but why the cot?" Mason stares into his glass, and I worry I pushed too far, asked too much.

"Sometimes the pressure to keep this place afloat is too much. My dad was a legend in this town, but he never had to manage with the workload that I have now." He swallows hard, and I study the way his Adam's apple bobs in his throat. I say nothing for fear that he might stop talking. "Heartwood has changed. Sure, to you it's still a small town, and don't get me wrong, it is. But it's also grown a lot, even in the last year."

I nod, still with my gaze fixed on Mason. I can't take my eyes off of him as he opens up to me. It's all I have wanted from him. For him to treat me like a partner in the clinic.

"With the way the economy is changing, there are many people moving out of big cities, seeking a simpler way of life. For some of them, that place is Heartwood. My caseload has almost doubled in the last year, and some days, it's like I'm failing at everything."

"So, you sleep here? Don't you have a place of your own, a life outside of this place?" I wave around, gesturing at the clinic.

"A life." Mason lets out a quick breath through his nose, a half-laugh. "You don't get one of those as a doctor. I learned the hard way that when you take your attention away for even a moment, people get hurt."

"You don't believe that, do you? That there is no doctor alive that doesn't live their own life outside of work?"

"I mean, I guess some can make it work, but not me. I don't get to have a life. Not when I'm responsible for the well-being of an entire town." I frown at his response. Is this why he is so cold to everyone around him? Because he doesn't want anyone to get too close? He is afraid that the moment someone gets close, he won't be able to juggle all of his responsibilities.

"You seemed lighter the last few days," I point out. "At the house calls and while we were out today. You seemed happier." I can't describe the shift that I've seen in him, but it's one that I like.

"Yeah, I guess it was nice to hang out with you the other night. I needed a laugh, to let off some steam, I guess."

"You need to let off steam. More often than you think," I say. Mason's eyes darken as he rises from his chair and comes closer to me.

"I enjoy letting off steam with you." His voice takes on a deeper, more husky, gravelly tone that I like. It rumbles low in my belly. I swallow my nerves.

"Thank you for defending me with Nate again today. It's the last time, I promise." Mason is standing so close to me now that I can see a faint hint of stubble coming in across his jaw.

"I don't understand why you don't tell him to get lost." His voice is still that low rumble.

"It's hard for me to speak up, especially to Nate, when I know it's going to start a fight that I can't win. I've always been this way; I hate making people upset or angry. It's easier for me to smooth things over and keep the peace."

"Running away, you mean." Mason doesn't soften the blow, and it stings for a moment. But he's right. "Some things don't have an easy way out, Ally."

"All I want to do is make people happy. It's why I became a nurse. I don't like to hurt people. I just want to fix everyone."

"Sometimes you have to do the hard thing, or else you end up sacrificing so much of yourself to make others happy." Mason is staring right through to my soul. Seeing parts of me I try to keep tucked away.

"Don't talk to me about unreasonable sacrifices, Mason." I glance over at the cot. Mason puts up his hands in surrender, but he doesn't move away from me. If anything, he has inched closer.

"I'm just saying. You don't have to try so hard to please everyone."

The tension between us is palpable, and I let my thoughts drift to the way Mason just licked his bottom lip.

"Nate isn't here; you don't need to be so nice to me," I remark, a playful wrinkle forming on my nose as I look up at him.

Mason doesn't flinch, his gaze unwavering as he meets mine, his eyes betraying a flicker of something I can't quite decipher, except for the unmistakable glance towards my lips.

"Do you think Nate is even buying this whole ruse?" His words hang in the air between us. "You're not exactly convincing as a head-over-heels girlfriend."

"Oh? And how could I be more convincing, Mason?"

"I don't know, pretend that you don't resent me? Don't flinch every time I get close to you?" How can I tell him that when I flinch it's because of the electricity between us, that I'm startled by the feelings he brings up in me?

"You mean like the way you pretended you wanted to kiss me the other night?" The memory of his lips on my temple creates a fluttering sensation in my chest.

"I wasn't pretending, Honeybee." His words hang between us, charged with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine.

"You're drunk," I reply, my voice faltering as uncertainty dances in my mind.

"I haven't had any of this yet." Mason holds up his glass. The scotch in it is untouched.

Before I can process his response, before I can form another retort, Mason closes the distance between us, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that is both unexpected and electrifying. It's firm yet tender, a contradiction that leaves me breathless and wanting more.

He pulls away, his eyes searching mine for a reaction, but before he can gauge my response, I lean in, meeting his lips with a hunger I hadn't realized was there. This isn't just a kiss; it's a revelation, a collision of emotions and desires that threaten to consume us both.

The stubble on his jaw grazes my skin, adding a delicious friction to the sensation. Kissing Mason feels as I had imagined, and yet, it's so much more. It's prickly yet comfortable, intense yet reassuring. Our lips move in perfect sync, and I know that this isn't just about pretending anymore.

This is real, raw, and ours. I grip the back of Mason's head, pulling him deeper into our kiss. His hands trail down my back to my thighs as he hoists me onto the desk. I hear something clatter on the floor as I knock it off, but I don't care. I want Mason. I think I've wanted him since the moment I saw him in the café. I haven't been able to stop thinking about him. And now I'm certain that he wants me too. I know by the way he drives his tongue into my mouth, the way his hands greedily roam around my body.

Mason's phone dings inside his pocket. He ignores it, but something inside me can't. I remember the mysterious phone call from the other day, how I asked about it and he refused to tell me. There are still parts of himself that Mason hasn't let me into. There's still a part of me that is reluctant to believe that Mason will put me above his work, to prove to me I'm important to him in all the ways that I wasn't important to Nate. I pull away from his mouth despite every cell in my body, telling me to keep kissing him.

"This is a bad idea, Mason." I shake my head and look down at the floor between our feet. Anything to keep myself from looking up into his deep brown eyes. Because if I do, those eyes will be the end of my willpower. I can't kiss Mason Landry. My boss. My ex-fake-boyfriend. I never intended for this to become real. I'm not a serial dater, and I would be giving up on my goal of starting over if I walked out of Nate's arms and straight into Mason's.

"What are you saying? I'm good enough to be your fake boyfriend, but not a real one?"Something that looks like hurt flickers in his eyes. Maybe I'm imagining it. Mason was the one that imposed the strict boundaries on our relationship to begin with.

"What I'm saying, is that you're my boss, Mason. And my life is complicated right now. Your life is complicated right now. The feelings I get when I kiss you don't make things any less complicated. You and I both have a lot to figure out before we can ever entertain this." My mind goes straight to the phone call Mason took in secret, the way he wouldn't even look at the screen around me. I can't take any more secrets.

"So, what, I'm supposed to continue pretending to be your boyfriend? That kiss didn't feel pretend, Ally."

"No. You're not supposed to continue pretending to be my boyfriend. Your week was up days ago. You've already done enough for me. You can go back to being my boss, and I can go back to being the irritating nurse who gets on your nerves. We can be professional and never discuss this." I wave my hand between us. "Ever."

Mason's hands fall from where they were resting on my hips and he backs away, letting me pass him as I leave his office and head back to the cabin.