Chapter Six

Mason

I stood in front of my closet, hands braced on the frame, and stared at the single dress shirt I owned. It was a deep blue that I'd bought for a cousin's wedding two years back and barely worn since. I tugged it off the hanger and held it up against myself, looking in the mirror. A mechanic's calloused hands fumbling with an outfit for a high-society shindig—it felt like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.

"Come on, Mason," I muttered under my breath, willing myself to shake off the nerves. "You've faced down busted engine blocks tougher than this."

But engine blocks didn't have emerald eyes that seemed to see right through me or curls that fell just so, framing a face that haunted my dreams. Juniper did. She also had a life waiting for her hundreds of miles away, a life where guys like me probably didn't stand much of a chance.

"Get it together," I muttered to myself, trying to quell the nerves gnawing at my insides. It wasn't just the fancy crowd that had me on edge—it was Juniper. Ever since that night—God, that night—we spent entwined between the sheets, where she whispered and moaned in ways that seared onto my every nerve ending, I'd been lost to her. But had the passion we shared been just a moment of weakness for her? A rebound? Or maybe loneliness? I couldn't shake the image of her, eyes closed, lips parted, whispering my name—not Troy's—with such fervor that it could only be real.

Scolding myself, I snatched up the shirt and threaded my arms through its sleeves. My reflection showed a broad-shouldered man who knew his way around a toolbox, not a cocktail tray. But tonight wasn't about fitting in; it was about being there for Juniper. I'd promised myself I'd enjoy whatever time we had left, even if my heart was already bargaining with fate for more.

"Tonight's not about tomorrow," I reminded myself. Carpe diem, right? Seize the damn day, because come January, when she packed up and returned to Baltimore, I might be nothing more than a fond memory. So, I shook off the unease and plastered on a grin—the one that said I was confident, the one that hid the ache in my chest.

Tugging at my tie, I loosened it just a fraction before grabbing my keys and heading out. Snowflakes danced in the glow of the streetlights as I drove to the square, my pulse quickening with each passing block. I found an empty parking spot in the lot beside the courthouse and walked the short distance from there to the boutique on the corner of 3 rd and Vine.

Candi Couture glowed like a beacon, its windows adorned with twinkling fairy lights and mannequins draped in luxurious fabrics. I paused at the entrance, taking a deep breath before stepping into the warmth and chatter inside. The space had been transformed for the occasion; chandeliers cast a warm glow over glittering decorations and the hum of conversation melded with the soft strains of Christmas music. The scents of expensive perfume and savory treats mingled in the air. Yet, all I could think about was finding Juniper, drowning in her green eyes, and forgetting everything else.

"Wow, look at you!" A voice pulled me from my reverie. It was Lexi Bell, the elf from the holiday market and Juniper's old friend. Her eyes scanned over my suit. "Never thought I'd see Mason Knight all dressed up!"

"Neither did I," I confessed, offering her a grin. "But here we are." My gaze swept over the throng of guests, all laughter and clinking glasses, their elegant attire a stark contrast to my usual grease-stained overalls.

"Juniper is going to love this," Lexi winked, nudging my arm playfully before melting back into the crowd.

I wasn't sure about that, but the thought of seeing Juniper tonight sent a jolt through me. We may have agreed to no strings, but every moment with her felt like another knot tied around my heart.

The din of conversation enveloped me as I navigated through the boutique. I caught snippets of small talk and the rustle of expensive fabric. My eyes scanned the room, dodging past a silent auction display that featured an array of shiny trinkets and local art, all up for grabs to the highest bidder.

"Champagne?" a server offered, and I took a glass, the bubbles tickling my nose and offering a brief distraction from the growing knot in my stomach.

"Cheers," I toasted silently, to the hope that tonight Juniper would see me—not just as a mechanic or a fling—but as the man who'd give anything to be her everything. And until the clock struck an end to this holiday fantasy, I'd keep that happy face on for her, knowing full well how much she needed it, especially tonight.

"Juniper!" I called out when I finally spotted her across the room. She was a vision amidst the chaos, even with her curls slightly askew and her brow creased in concentration. It seemed like she was trying to be everywhere at once, darting between guests with the grace of a deer caught in headlights—gorgeous but startled.

"Hey, Mason," Juniper greeted me breathlessly, her voice barely rising above the hum. "Sorry, it's a bit of a madhouse."

"Looks like the whole town turned out." I said, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

She forced a smile, the corners of her mouth twitching with the effort. "Yeah, Mom really outdid herself this time."

"Speaking of," I said, nodding toward where Candi was parading Ginger around like a prized show horse, one hand resting proudly on Ginger's protruding belly. "Seems like she's having the time of her life."

"Ugh, don't remind me." Juniper rolled her eyes, a flash of her usual fire peeking through. "At least one McCall daughter is doing things right, according to the gospel of Candi."

"Hey. You're doing amazing, Juniper. Don't let anyone tell you different."

Our gazes locked, and for a moment, the party faded into the distance. I could see the appreciation in her eyes, mixed with something deeper, something that made my chest tighten.

"Thanks, Mason. Really." A genuine smile broke through, lighting up her features. "But if I don't get back to these canapés, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Go," I urged, giving her hand a final squeeze before releasing her back into the fray. "I'm here if you need a breather…or an escape route."

"Escape sounds perfect," she murmured, then darted off with a tray of hors d'oeuvres balanced like it was second nature.

I watched her weave through the crowd, part of me longing to whisk her away from the expectations and the glitzy facade. But for now, I was just a spectator at this high-society spectacle. I slipped back into the party, the cacophony of festive chatter and clinking glasses enveloping me, when my gaze landed on Troy Stone and Paris Dubois by the grand, twinkling Christmas tree. They stood slightly apart, their body language as icy as the winter night outside.

"Can't you just smile for once?" Troy's voice carried over the noise, the edge in his tone was unmistakable.

Paris rolled her eyes, a perfect manicured hand on her hip. "I am smiling," she snapped back, her baby-like voice laced with annoyance. "This is just how I look when I'm bored."

Troy's jaw clenched, his blue eyes flashing with exasperation. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction seeing Mr. Perfect not so perfect after all.

Leaving them to their lovers' spat, I made a beeline for the restroom. When I emerged, the sight that greeted me jolted my heart into a sprint.

There was Juniper, tucked away in the shadowy seclusion of the hallway, with Troy's hand firmly on her arm. She looked up at him, her striking green eyes wide with surprise—or was it alarm?

"Juniper," Troy's voice was low, intimate. "Thanks for agreeing to hear what I have to say. I've made a colossal mistake."

My steps slowed, an uneasy feeling gnawing at my gut.

"Paris...she's not you. She'll never be you," he continued, oblivious to my presence. "I miss what we had. I want you back."

The words punched the air from my lungs. He wanted her back? After everything?

"Perfect for you?" Juniper's voice rose, incredulous. "Troy, you left me because you thought I wasn't perfect enough."

"Juniper, please…" Troy started, but I turned away, not wanting to hear anymore. My hands balled into fists. The guy had some nerve. But more than anger, a deep-seated fear settled over me, cold and heavy. What if she still loved him? What if she went back to him?

I should step in, say something—anything. But Troy's genuine plea reverberated through every fiber of my being. The fervor in his voice when he spoke of missing her.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, feeling like an intruder witnessing a private moment meant for reconciliation, not a breakup. It shouldn't have been this way. Not tonight. Not ever. The mechanic part of me wanted to fix things, but what was there to repair? Juniper wasn't a broken engine, and I couldn't tighten bolts to secure her to my side.

I peeked around the corner one more time, my gaze lingering on them, wishing, hoping for some sign that she'd push him away, come looking for me...But there was only the quiet intensity of their conversation as they bent their heads closer together, unaware of anyone else but each other.

"Enjoy the night, Junie," I whispered to myself, knowing she couldn't hear me over the cacophony of holiday cheer that now tasted bitter in my mouth.

Without another glance back, I weaved through the crowd. My hands felt numb, my steps heavy as if each one took me further from where I desperately wanted to be. Right there, by her side, laughing and drinking, pretending that we were just two people without a complicated past or an uncertain future.

I didn't bother with goodbyes; they felt too final, too real. Slipping out of Candi Couture's extravagant entrance, the cold air slapped my cheeks, sobering my swirling thoughts. Springfield's town square lay quiet under the Christmas lights, a stark contrast to the warmth and liveliness I had left behind.

My truck sat alone under the glow of a solitary streetlamp, its familiar form offering no comfort tonight. I fumbled with the keys, my fingers clumsy, as if they too knew that this was the end of something undefined but precious.

Once inside, I let my head fall back against the seat, the leather cool against my skin. "You knew what you were getting into," I scolded myself, the words a hollow attempt at consolation.

I turned the key, the engine coming to life with a rumble that usually brought me solace. Not tonight. Tonight, it sounded like defeat.

With a deep breath, I shifted into drive, the truck's headlights cutting through the darkness. I stole one last look at the boutique's glowing windows, half expecting to see her silhouette rushing out after me.

Nothing.

Releasing the brake, I eased onto the road, the empty streets of Springfield swallowing me whole. Somewhere behind me, the party continued, the laughter and clinking glasses unaware of the piece of my heart I'd left on their polished floors.

And as I drove off into the night, the only witness to my departure was the flickering of distant Christmas lights, fading away in my rearview mirror.