CHAPTER SIX

Mason

I still can't fathom how Winnie could offer the cabin to Ally without my permission. The cabin doesn't belong to her to give away. It isn't even mine to give away. The small wooden A-frame belonged to my father, and even though Jack Landry is gone, it still holds onto his essence. I haven't been here since the day after the funeral. I had tidied up and made sure no food was out to rot or attract wildlife, but other than that, I didn't want to spend any more time in the cabin than necessary.

And now Ally will be inhabiting the space, probably with her fiancé, changing everything around, no doubt. I can see her adding girly touches, pink throw pillows or some shit. Hanging pictures where photos of my family once hung. The notion makes me cringe and refuels my anger towards Winnie.

I volunteer to ride shotgun while Ally drives the beater of a rental truck they saddled her with so that she doesn't have to walk all her luggage over. The cabin is a short enough distance from the clinic that one could walk the route in under ten minutes. My parents had bought the property with the dream of renting it out as a vacation spot, but when Mom got sick, that dream went by the wayside. The cabin sat empty for years until my brothers and I were old enough to be independent. Then Dad moved in so he could be closer to the clinic. He liked to be within arm's reach in case of an emergency. As do I.

Winnie suggested I move in here, but the wound was still too fresh. I can't be around my father's things without the familiar sharp stab of grief reminding me he's no longer here.

Ally is sitting in the driver's seat waiting for my directions, which I give in curt one-word answers. The only way I can be professional right now is by keeping my damn mouth shut. I hear Winnie's voice in my head. ‘ If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. '

I point left toward the cul-de-sac. I can drive the short distance blindfolded, even though almost a year has passed since I dared venture onto the dead-end street. Hang a left out of the clinic parking lot, drive thirty seconds down the main road that leads toward the town square, another left, and then a right at the rusted metal mailbox.

Ally looks at me when I point toward a narrow opening in the trees at the end of the street. The familiar rusting metal mailbox hidden among the overgrown shrubs is the only indication that the space between the trees is, indeed, a driveway.

"Are you sure this is the right address?" Ally asks me.

"Been coming here my whole life, Honeybee," I say through gritted teeth. Ally turns the steering wheel and navigates the truck through the overgrown branches.

The opening is narrow, just wide enough for the old truck as the wheels bump down the gravel driveway. The click and screech of trees on the already rusted doors sets my teeth on edge like nails on a chalkboard. I make a mental note to come back and prune the branches. Not as a favour to Ally, but because the rental company won't be thrilled if this truck comes back scratched to shit. Not that it's in pristine condition to begin with. Who had the bright idea of giving her this old hunk of junk?

The driveway isn't long but provides just enough privacy, and my breath catches in my throat as the trees on either side open into a small clearing. The small wooden cabin sits in the centre, untouched and no different from how I left it. There's a porch at the front and a stone path that wraps around one side leading to a fire pit behind the cabin. My dad and I built the fire pit together out of large rocks we found down by the river and sat together in the fire's warmth, peering at the stars many nights. Just the two of us.

The memory is distant now, a slideshow of fuzzy images, but they are no less painful. It was replaced long ago with memories of feeling abandoned and neglected as the workload at the clinic became heavier. As he became more and more consumed by work.

"It's quaint." Ally points out as she puts the truck in park. I assume that by quaint she means dilapidated. I know the standards folks from the city have when it comes to their accommodations.

"There's a decent motel down the road towards town. I could take you over now." I spit out, hoping that Ally's snobbish taste might make her rethink taking up residency in the place that holds so much of my heart. I don't need her poking around where she doesn't belong. Ally wrinkles her nose, considering. She peers around at the trees before looking back at me.

"No, this will do just fine. I'm looking for a bit of a hideout if I'm being honest, and I like the privacy." My heart sinks. It was worth a shot. The next best thing I can hope for is Ally tiring of Heartwood and deciding to go home to the city.

"Is your fiancé moving in with you, too? The cabin might be a little tight." Ally's right eyebrow tilts up for a moment. I nod toward her hand resting on the steering wheel, looking at her ring. She lets her hand drop and fidgets with the rock, twirling the band holding the obnoxious diamond around her finger.

"No. He won't be coming to Heartwood with me."Her voice is almost sad, her eyes wistful. But she didn't deny that she has a fiancé. At least he can preoccupy her and keep her out of my hair. I shrug and fling open the passenger door which creaks and wobbles as if it might just fall off.

I reluctantly reach into the back of the old truck and heave a heavy suitcase over the side, dust clouding the air as it thuds onto the ground.

"Who gave you this rust bucket?" I say, referring to the environmental nightmare of a truck that is parked in the driveway. It looks like it's about to fall apart at any second.

"That was the only one they had left at the rental company when I landed," Ally says with a shrug.

"Bullshit. You should have asked for something else. Anything else would have been better than this. A horse and buggy would have been more reliable."

"I wanted to avoid causing an argument." My eyes roll back at her answer. Of course, Little Miss Perfect Ally didn't want to upset anyone. I unload the next suitcase.

"You don't need to help me with that," Ally protests, striding over to where I'm standing.

"I'll at least help you unload them, they're pretty heavy."

There's that nose wrinkle Ally does when I say something she doesn't like. It's almost endearing, and I think I'd like to say more things to annoy her, just so I can see it again. Ally is the kind of person I'd have fun toying with.

"I can manage just fine on my own, thank you very much." A fisted hand lands on her hip in defiance. Also, kind of cute. I shake my head. As much as I'd like to continue annoying her, I can't go thinking that she's cute in any way, shape, or form. Not if I'm going to get her to leave town and leave me alone.

"Do you think you brought enough suitcases?" I squint my eyes as the sun lowers in the sky right above the tree line.

"I'll have you know I uprooted my entire life to be here. This is my whole life packed into luggage." Ally waves an arm, gesturing at the pile of bags in the truck's bed. An entire life that doesn't include the fiancé for some reason. I notice a clear garment bag lays tucked in beside them and I pull it out next.

Swaths of sparkling fabrics fall as I lift it and I can make out a handful of floor-length gowns tucked into the bag.

"A little frilly for Heartwood, don't you think?" I lift my eyebrows at Ally. I'm forming a clearer picture of her, and the image is one that does not fit in here. I guess she'll last two weeks at most. That suits me just fine. The sooner she leaves Heartwood and the sooner she's no longer bothering me, the better.

"Well, I'm not planning on wearing them out to the grocery store." She wrinkles her nose again. "And those are none of your business." Ally reaches out and snatches the garment bag from my hand before collecting the bottoms of the dresses off the ground and storming off towards the cabin.

I pick up my pace and follow Ally toward the front door.

"I've got it," I say, reaching in front of her.

"No, thanks. I can handle it from here."

I hold up a gold key in front of Ally's face. "Not if you can't get in, now, can you?" I swing open the old screen door and wiggle the key into the lock. It's stiff since no one has used it in so long, but the key fits just as it always did, and the lock clicks as I turn it.

My chest tightens as I open the door and see the old familiar cabin. I half expect to see my dad sitting at the worn, traditional-style wooden table that sits in the middle of the space, coffee in hand. But the space is empty, except for Ally, who sweeps in like the place means nothing.

I catch a growl rising in my throat and stop it. I stalk back to the truck to get another suitcase. I can't set foot in the cabin, not with Ally here now. And screw her, by the way, for letting me think she was cute. She is not cute, barging into my life like this.

I haul a heavy bag out of the truck, the latch catching on the tailgate. Before I have a chance to catch it, the suitcase opens, the contents spilling onto the driveway.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ally shouts, waving her arms wildly and leaping down off the porch onto the gravel drive. I stand over the open suitcase, dumbfounded for a second, my mouth agape. It's not like I'm trying to spill all of her belongings on the ground, but as I look down at the contents of the bag, I realize why Ally is so panicked. I notice her cheeks redden as she examines what is lying before her on the gravel.

An assortment of brightly coloured tiny pieces of lace decorate the driveway. I can't help but picture Ally wearing them, her petite, lean frame with strips of lace accentuating the curves of her hips.

Ally stoops to pick them up and I meet her on the ground, kneeling to help.

"Please, don't. It's bad enough that you've now seen all my underwear. I don't want you touching it too." But as Ally makes to scoop up the lacy thongs, something even more intriguing falls out of the pile, rolling across the ground and stopping when it hits my foot.

A vibrator. Not just any vibrator—Ally's vibrator. It's a purple rabbit-style one, and bigger than I would imagine her enjoying . I shake off the thought. Ally lets out a shriek as I bend down to pick it up. If her face was red before, it's almost purple now. But damn, it makes her blue eyes glow almost iridescent.

"You don't have to be embarrassed that you own a vibrator, Honeybee." I can't resist visualizing her using it, and I feel my pants tighten around my waist. Be professional, I try to remind myself, but it's too late. The words are already tumbling out of my mouth before I can catch them. "It's also okay if you want to think about me while you're using it."

The corner of my mouth twitches up as I see the words land, and Ally's eyes go wide.

Not an appropriate thing for a boss to say to their new employee. I've never been someone's boss before, but I'll have to figure out how to navigate this whole boss-employee thing. Which could prove to be especially difficult given the way she looks. All I want is for Ally to wrinkle her nose and put her hand on her hip like she does. She doesn't, and I don't know how to interpret the disappointment that I feel. Instead, she snatches the vibrator out of my hand, puts the last remaining thongs back in their suitcase, and carts it in the cabin's direction, not stopping to make eye contact with me.

Taking extra caution to give them enough clearance over the tailgate this time, I finish unloading her suitcases and pile them on the driveway.

"You should go now." Ally is standing on the porch, arms crossed over her chest. I notice the way her hip juts out in her high-waisted jeans, the neckline of her blouse billowing open. Prissy .

I narrow my eyes in the orange sunlight now filtering through the tops of the trees. A moment passes between us as we stand there staring each other down. She's right. It's time for me to leave. I need to get far away from Ally if I have any hope of wiping my mind clean of the image of her in those lacy thongs, the fabric pushed to the side, making room for the vibrator. It's an image I will not, cannot, entertain.

The clinic is struggling enough as it is; it needs me to be clear-headed and focused, and envisioning Ally and that purple vibrator won't help with either. Two weeks. I give Ally two weeks tops. And if she's not gone on her own accord by then, I will see to it that she leaves.

"Sure. I gotta go help Winnie close up the clinic now." I turn to start my walk down the driveway and back to the clinic. A walk I know like the back of my hand.