Chapter 37

Mason

S he isn’t going to choose me.

I glance over at Winnie as we head off on our date. Her hair is wild, her grin is wide, her cheeks are pink from the wind. She’s gorgeous.

When I suggested we take my 1972 Jaguar XK-E convertible, she beamed. When I suggested she drive—no one even sits behind the wheel of that car but me—her eyes lit up like nothing I’ve ever seen and she tackled me with a hug.

Now, from the driver’s seat, every few seconds she lets out a delighted whoop and laughs. And her laugh makes me laugh, despite the fact I can’t get out of my own damn head.

She isn’t going to choose me.

It’s a thought I can’t shake. I’ve been unable to shake it since she ran out after Gav, when it was my turn to bat, that first day in the living room, during the kisses. I hoped, back then, I’d hit a home run, but instead I’d struck the fuck out .

No. I take that back. I did shake that thought, once. For a few minutes, when she and Cruz and I were in the kitchen, I believed all my bases were loaded. But that’s only because I wasn’t thinking about anything, then, my brain completely shut down. My bases weren’t loaded, they were overloaded , with lust and joy and foolishness.

I’m in a different position than most of my brothers, because of Winnie’s thing with Max. Yeah, our personalities are night and day, but physically, Max and I are identical.

When she decided to be friends-with-benefits with one of us, who did she pick? My identical twin . Which means, even if you took the others out of the equation and it was a head-to-head competition between me and the guy with my exact DNA…

He’d take the W.

The win.

The Winnie.

The One and Only.

Good God, would you listen to me? Pathetic, I know.

But it doesn’t matter. She isn’t going to choose me.

If she was attracted to the look of me, even if only on a strictly superficial level, she would’ve just stuck with Max, anyway. Why not? She already had something going with him. Something good, apparently.

Or at least, that’s Max’s theory, which he reminds me of at least once a day .

She had me, he’s whined to me over and over. Which might actually be more intolerable if he was being cocky about it, but he’s just despondent. It’s horrific.

I was a sure thing, Mace. And still, she needs to date and fuck all of you guys before appreciating what she had? She is not choosing me. And she’s not choosing you, either. You know it deep down, too, don’t you?

I shove Max’s voice away. I’ve got to get him out of my head.

I’ve got to get out of my own head.

Because right now, my body is exactly where I have been dreaming of being. Maybe not the passenger seat of my car part, but that’s surprisingly okay. I just mean I am on a date with Winnie Wainwright.

Sure, it’s the only date we’ll ever have together, but that only furthers my desire to enjoy everything. Tonight, I’m going to live in the moment and I’m not going to give any thought to what comes tomorrow or the next day or the day after that. For tonight, even if only for tonight, Winnie Wainwright is my girl.

Mine . And I’m going to live for every single second of it.

What I’ve planned for us is pretty epic, if I do say so myself.

Winnie is taking her driving cues from the GPS, where I’d already input our destination before we hit the road. She’s completely in the dark about where we’re going.

When the GPS voice announces, “Make a left turn. You have now arrived at your destination,” Winnie turns into the parking lot. Only when we’re fully stopped in a space, does she glance over at me .

“Are we going to smash, Mason Hammer?” she jokes, gesturing to the sign on the building in front of us. The Smithville Smash Zone. She waggles her eyebrows at me.

No, Winnie. We are not going to smash. Because the word smash implies casual sex, and if I ever have sex with you, there will not be a single damn casual thing about it, Cupcake.

But I grin. “We’re going to smash things .”

“A demolition place, though?” She looks perplexed and I know what she’s thinking.

“I promise you, Win, this is going to be way different than just taking a sledgehammer to falling apart cabinets on demo days.”

“Okay,” she says, flashing me a full-fledged smile.

I send up a quick prayer that I’ve done something brilliant here and not something shit. You can’t shine a shit, after all.

We walk inside. I want to hold her hand, but this is kind of in public, so I resist the urge.

“Mace!” the girl behind the counter cries as we enter. “When Devon told me you were coming, I didn’t believe it.”

“Hey, Linds,” I say to her. Then I explain to Winnie, “Lindsey’s brother Devon is a good buddy of mine. He owns this place. Lindsey, this is–”

Lindsey holds up a hand. “Mason. This amazing woman needs no introduction. I don’t want to make things awkward, but since the first season of 1 Girl, 10 Hammers, I have had the biggest girl crush on you! You are a force to be reckoned with, lady. I want your autograph before you leave.”

Winnie lets out a surprised laugh. “Why, thank you. ”

“Actually,” Lindsey says, “I need both of your autographs now. You didn’t e-sign the waivers in advance, and we need to take care of that real quick.”

After we do, Lindsey hands me a stack of gear. “Your room is that way. Devon has everything set up around back when you’re done.”

Winnie slides a curious glance at me.

Pressing a hand to the small of her back, I guide her in the direction Lindsey indicated. I sincerely hope this goes over well. My plan seemed fucking impeccable as it rolled out in my head, but now I’m wondering if maybe I should’ve asked one of my brothers their opinion before steamrolling ahead.

We stop at the door that has a sign on it reading Hammer - Party of 2. I think about what’s on the other side of that door and wonder if maybe I should warn her about it first.

“We have to suit up before we go in,” I stall, handing her one of the two gray jumpsuits Lindsey gave me.

Once we have those and our safety goggles on, I take a deep breath and open the door.

“Damnnnnn,” she says, as we cross the threshold.

I reserved the biggest space they have, which has a huge garage door on the exterior wall. Winnie’s gaze is the wall to our right, that holds everything from pickaxes to baseball bats on hooks.

“What’s your poison, Hammer? I think I’m going to go with the…”

Her voice trails off as she glances to the left and I can see her facial expression change as she starts noticing things. It would be pretty fucking hard not to notice the car in the middle of the room.

“Is that Gram’s Ford Escort?” she asks. Then her gaze travels the space and I watch her expression change as she takes in the things–most of it pretty trashed, already– we removed from her grandmother’s house.

Belongings of her grandmother’s and her father’s, which we were supposed to take straight to the dump.

The vehicle in question had been on cement blocks in the Wainwright backyard as long as we’d known Winnie.

“Yeah,” I say. “It is.”

She whips around and faces me, her eyes glassy. “Mason.”

She’s starting to cry. Shit. I really hope I haven’t fucked up. I’ve seen such a change in her since we began the renovation. She practically trembled with fear when we first began, but now she marches in boldly.

I thought she was ready for this, and I’m about to apologize for being such a dense bastard, when she rushes at me.

And then I have to steady us both as she jumps into my arms, so we don’t fall over sideways because she’s caught me completely off guard.

She’s good at that, her unpredictability. And her brand of unpredictability is always fun, especially when she’s planting her sweet, smiling mouth on mine in a kiss that will rival even our kitchen kiss.

“When you and your brothers first pitched the idea of renovating Gram’s house,” she says, “it was you who said this reno would be an opportunity to do so much more than rebuild that wreck of a house. And you were right. ”

She takes both of my hands in hers. “I really don’t think any of us could have fathomed just what kind of opportunity we would turn it into.” She giggles, rosy cheeks growing rosier.

“And it was because of you , Mason, because I mistook you for Max, that this opportunity for me to be with all of you opened up. This is a perfect date for you and me.”

“Yeah?” God, I’m so relieved.

She nods. “Because sometimes ghosts don’t need to be buried. They need to be fucking obliterated.”

When she kisses me again, there’s even more fervor behind it. Then I watch her, a smile spreading across my face, as she goes to the table with her grandmother’s china on it.

One piece at a time, she picks up the china and hurls it against the wall.

“Come help me, Mason!” she shouts.

“Always, Winnie,” I call, and race over.

With every cup, saucer, and plate that shatters, I can see on my girl’s face that the pieces of her heart have definitely healed throughout the process of the reno… and, miraculously, from dating us.

I’m overjoyed to see that there’s peace in her expression, not fear or anxiety or rage, even if they’re all justified.

Fuck. I desperately don’t want this to end between us.

I grab two sledgehammers, hoping that the sounds of us wrecking her terrible grandmother’s terrible clunker of a car will drown out Max’s voice in my head.

She isn’t going to choose us.