Chapter 25

Mason

Kenna's hair shone in the sunlight as I followed her down another row of strawberries.

"Do you want me to take a picture of you?" I offered.

She looked too picture-worthy to not be photographed. But, hell, when did she not look picture-worthy?

She was stunning.

"Oh my goodness!" Kenna clapped her hands together.

"I'll take that as a yes," I laughed.

"This is fantastic content for my realtor page," she said. "Please do, if you don't mind!"

With a smile as sweet as the ripe strawberries in her basket, she handed me her phone with the camera app already open. As she posed, one hand gracefully held the basket while the other reached for the sky. Her eyes sparkled with joy as she flashed me the most adorable smile I had ever seen.

Yeah, you heard me. I said she had an adorable smile. And I never used that word.

I snapped a few photos while she continued to offer me different poses.

"Okay, okay, let me see!" Kenna said as she reached for her phone.

As she studied the photos, her brows drew together, then the corners of her mouth crept upwards in a slight smile. I sighed in relief, knowing that I had done a decent job.

"One of these will be perfect," she said. "My assistant, Noah, is going to be so happy! Thank you so much."

"No biggie," I shrugged before kneeling to pick another strawberry.

"Can I take a picture of you?" she asked.

"What? Why?" I asked in return.

"Because I want to," she said, "for memories."

"Okay," I said. I was in an agreeable mood.

"Pose for me!" she commanded.

I shifted my weight to one side, propping my hand on my hip, while the other held onto the handle of my basket of strawberries.

"Oh, we're being sassy now?" Kenna laughed as she took my picture.

As Kenna crouched down to pluck another ripe strawberry, the fabric of her short, yellow dress inched up her thighs.

I wasn't the only one who noticed her bare skin glistening under the sun's warm rays.

An older man, three rows over, was blatantly staring at her.

I flipped him off.

"What was that?" Kenna asked.

I turned to find Kenna watching me, her arms crossed.

I merely shrugged in response to her question.

"Did you just flip off that old guy?"

"You should have seen how he looked at you," I admitted. "I guess it's hard to look away when you come across the most beautiful thing you've ever seen."

A faint blush crept up from her cheeks, painting them with a rosy hue.

We traveled up and down a few more rows, filling our baskets with strawberries. After paying for our produce, we returned down the dusty dirt road to the highway.

"Thank you," Kenna said, "for taking me to pick strawberries."

"It was cool," I shrugged.

"Do you always do that?" she asked.

"Always do what?"

"Act so nonchalant about things."

I glanced over at her to find her emerald eyes studying me.

"Maybe I don't care about all that much," I suggested.

"Maybe so," she tucked her hair behind her ear.

"I can assure you I am anything but nonchalant," I explained. "My exterior just reflects otherwise."

"It most certainly does," she said. "And that's what people will believe about you."

"Fair enough," I shrugged.

"See! You're doing it again!" Kenna laughed.

"My clients requested fresh strawberry tarts for this evening," I told her. "I'll save you one."

"You don't have to do that!"

"You were involved in picking the strawberries, so you have to try the dessert," I told her. "I don't make the rules."

"Okay," she smiled at me.

"I can bring it by later if you want," I said as I pulled up to the curb below her apartment. "Or I could leave it outside your door if you'd prefer."

"Okay," she said. She hopped out of my car and closed the door but leaned her head in through the open window. "You're always welcome to drop by, Mason," she said before she waved goodbye and disappeared inside.

∞∞∞

"Are you single?" The cougar leaned over the kitchen island and locked eyes with me. She pressed her chest forward with calculated seductiveness, which only made me want to snicker at her obvious desperation.

"I am," I replied. I considered lying, but I wasn't a liar. And I didn't need to lie to avoid a client's advances.

That evening, my clients were a group of flirty, crude, and obnoxious women in their fifties celebrating one of their recent divorces. They were my least favorite type of clientele, but they always tipped generously—even if it was because they were hoping I'd sleep with one of them.

Thankfully, dinner had already been served, and dessert was the only thing left on the menu. While I prepared the strawberry tarts, the leading cougar kept her eyes on me as if I were her prey.

Too bad for her, I was used to it.

"You're so good with your hands," she slurred her words as she spoke. "Maybe you can make me a private dessert later. I'll pay."

I was a personal chef, not a gigolo.

With nimble fingers, I continued my task of preparing the delicate tarts. I skillfully rolled out the pastry dough and filled it with fresh berries. Despite the annoying distraction, I focused intently on my task. I pretended not to hear the absurd proposition that had been presented to me just moments before. My hands moved with practiced ease as I crafted each tart into a work of art.

I carefully selected the most beautiful tart and wrapped it in delicate parchment for Kenna before serving the other tarts to the women.

I wasted no time tidying up the kitchen after dessert was served. It was my task as a personal chef, and although it was my least favorite part of the job, I took pride in leaving the kitchen spotless. With swift movements, I wiped down counters and scrubbed pots until they gleamed. Lastly, I swept away any lingering crumbs or spills.

∞∞∞

Me:Ready for a treat?

Kenna:Always!

Me:Delivery in 5.

True to my promise, I ascended the stairs to Kenna's apartment within five minutes. My heart thumped in anticipation as I approached her door. With a gentle knock, I took two steps back.

When she opened the door, she had a robe over her pajamas and a green mud mask on her face.

"Oh my goodness, Mason! I can't believe you brought me dessert," she gushed. "You might be my favorite friend ever!"

I extended my arm to her, the dessert in hand. She took it without hesitation.

"Do you want to come in?" Kenna offered.

"Nah, I need to get home and shower," I told her. "I'm beat."

I wanted to stay. I wanted to see the look on her face when she took a bite of the tart, but I didn't want to overstay my welcome in her life. I didn't want her to get sick of me already.

The disappointment on Kenna's face made me question whether I was making the right decision.

What if she actually wanted me to come in?

"Well, see ya later," I said before I bolted down the stairs.

I guess my decision was made.