Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

LUMBERJACK/LUMBERJANE – Romance science decrees that all persons wearing a red plaid flannel become 42 percent more attractive. If the sleeves are rolled up and the forearms are out, add an additional 17 percent and gird your loins.

S awyer smiled to herself as she stepped into the elevator, heavy bag of books in hand. Her hand was cramping, but she was too excited to be mad at herself for—yet again—forgetting to come up with a better way of transporting her book haul. The one upside of not writing was it left her even more time to read, and she was burning through books faster than ever.

The trip to the Christkindlmarket had lit a spark in her. She still wasn’t writing, but her fingers twitched, the seed of an idea growing in the back of her mind so long as she didn’t look at it too closely. Instead, she decided to feed it. If she was going to write a holiday rom-com, she was going all out.

She’d always loved Christmas, but she hadn’t properly decorated in years. Not since Sadie. They’d decorated to the nines when they were together, taking in all their other friends whose only family were of the found variety. While she’d lost her friends in the breakup, she hadn’t lost her love of Christmas. It had always seemed like a lot of effort to decorate just for herself, but maybe if she decorated hard enough, the first draft of her book would write itself.

In addition to tearing through books all week, she’d watched an inhumane amount of rom-coms to brainstorm things to ruin with Mason. While she was studying tropes and clichés, she suspected Mason had simply contributed actual dates and grand gestures he’d done. She was beginning to think he truly was a walking, talking, bodice-ripping romance hero, replete with abs.

They’d been texting back and forth all week, trying to combine multiple clichés into one outing to get as much bang for their buck as possible. In the spirit of Christmas, she’d made a list and checked it twice:

Mission: (un)Romance:

1. Christmas Tree Farm

This would accomplish two things: getting her tree and ruining the setting for half of Hallmark’s Christmas movies. Mason wearing a red flannel was nonnegotiable.

2. Ice-Skating in Millennium Park

Sawyer was horrible at ice-skating but Mason said that only made it more on brand for a rom-com—and easier for her to make Not Fun. She relented only when he promised to bring a thermos of spiked cider.

3. New Year’s Eve Midnight Kiss

Sawyer wasn’t a big fan of New Year’s in general, but Mason was practically written by Nora Ephron, and thus she couldn’t ethically leave him unchaperoned for one of the most impossible-to-be-single moments of the year, or else he was sure to relapse into hopeless romanticism.

4. IKEA Shopping

They agreed 500 Days of Summer wasn’t a romance, but still worth crossing off the list, just to be safe. Plus, Mason needed a new end table or something.

5. Musical Number???

This one was still up in the air as neither of them liked grand public displays, receiving or performing. They agreed to draw straws on it later.

6. Notecard Scene from Love, Actually

Sawyer was adamant that this scene was creepy and weird, but Mason insisted it was too iconic to leave unruined.

That was as far as she’d gotten. It turned out to be a lot harder than Sawyer anticipated, and she wasn’t sure how they were going to pull half of them off. There were no fairs or carnivals this time of year, so Mason couldn’t win her a giant stuffed bear. The closest thing was the Christkindlmarket, and they’d already done that. They couldn’t dance and kiss in the rain, because they’d agreed their “no sex” rule should include all intimacy—with one exception.

The New Year’s Eve kiss felt like too big a cliché to not include it. Mason already had plans for the night—some work party—and had updated his RSVP to include her. Thank God, too, because Sawyer’s only New Year’s invite was from Lily, but it was also Lily’s first wedding anniversary, and if Sawyer exposed Mason to Lily and Beau’s marital bliss, all their work to ruin romance would be undone with one sappy look. She’d suggested being Mason’s fake girlfriend at the NYE party to knock out another classic cliché, but he’d gotten weirdly cagey about it, so she dropped it.

Stepping out of the elevator, she hauled her sack of books to the bar, heaving it on top and waiting for Alex to finish up with a guest.

Taking the list out of her pocket, she read over it once more. She wasn’t sure if it was enough, too much, or not enough. Grabbing a discarded pen, she wrote “end date???” at the bottom of her scrap of paper. Was this over when they finished the list or when they got sick of each other? Or was getting sick of each other when they needed to keep going, to put the final nails in the Coffin of Love?

“Book Angel,” Alex purred as he moved the sack of books to the back bar. He reached for a roll of silverware, but she held up her hand.

“Rain check,” she promised. “I needed to clear out my space so I could move a Christmas tree into my apartment this afternoon.”

Alex grinned. “Aren’t you adorable and Christmassy.”

Sawyer struck a pose. “Trying new things. I’ll tell you about it next time. It’s good.” Alex would appreciate her and Mason’s mission.

“Does it have anything to do with you leaving with Mason West last time you were in?” he asked conspiratorially.

She froze. Mason West ? Why did that name sound familiar? Trying to keep her tone casual, she feigned disinterest by inspecting her nails. “You know Mason?”

Alex’s brows rose. “Yeah, the Diagnostics cast comes in here a lot. They film at the hospital down the street. Why—why are you looking at me like that?”

Sawyer didn’t have cable, so she’d never seen the show, but she definitely knew of it. Lily was going to have a cow when she found out Sawyer had accidentally succeeded in meeting a member of the cast that had eluded them at this very same bar a year ago. And she’d done a lot more than meet one of them. Something was suddenly lodged in her throat. Perhaps a scream. Clearing her throat, she tucked her hair behind her ear as she regained her composure. “I, uh, I have to get going,” she managed. “Same time next month?”

Alex nodded slowly. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” she insisted. “I’m fine.” Totally fine, save for she apparently slept with someone very famous from a very popular show she didn’t watch because she hated procedurals and now she had to go see Mason and pretend she didn’t know who he was or that she hated his show. Okay, hate was a strong word. She’d never actually seen his show. Maybe it was good.

She gave Alex a half-hearted wave as she backed away from the bar, hoping her mental spiral wasn’t written all over her face. She pushed the elevator button with more force than necessary, tugging her phone from her pocket with her other hand. As she waited, she pulled up Google and typed “Mason West Diagnostics.” Maybe there were two Mason Wests in Chicago.

There weren’t.

“Oh, fuck me,” she mumbled as she scrolled past a picture of him with Dakota Johnson. It was a goddamn bisexual thirst trap of a photo.

Her brain was melting.

Mason álvarez, known professionally as Mason West…

He hadn’t lied about his name, but he hadn’t exactly told the truth either.

It didn’t matter.

It shouldn’t matter.

She was successful in her field—or had been—and he knew who she was. What difference did it make if the reason his place was so goddamn nice was due to him being an actor and not a trust fund baby? Though Google told her he was also likely a trust fund baby. His mother, Moira West, was some famous soap opera actress. As the elevator doors dinged open, she closed out of Mason’s Wikipedia page and toggled over to Google Images as she walked blindly into the elevator and pushed the button for the lobby.

Mason West Fills Costar Kara Zhao’s Trailer with 1,000 Roses

A Sneak Peek at Mason West’s Romantic Valentine’s Day Plans

10 Things All Men Could Learn from Mason West: The Blueprint

Good gravy. He really was a walking, talking romance hero. The more recent articles sang a different tune, however.

Her attention snagged on a photo of him with the pretty girl she’d seen him with at the bar the night they met. Someone had photoshopped it to appear torn down the middle. The image had been recycled for multiple articles. At the top was “Mason West’s Long List of Ex-Lovers,” which was clever but cruel. The next headline was worse: “Kara Zhao Leaves Diagnostics and Costar Mason West: Coincidence? TMZ Has the Inside Scoop…”

TMZ needed to mind its business. And so did Sawyer.

She forced herself to close out of Google before she could learn more than she should know. That didn’t stop all the pieces from falling into place in the back of her mind, however. His ex had been in LA for “work,” which Sawyer now surmised meant “filming.” She resisted the urge to reopen Google and read the first article. Her exes weren’t spelled out online, so it wasn’t fair that she should have access to that information when he did not. Besides, why did she care who he’d dated?

Shoving her phone into her pocket, she exhaled slowly. It didn’t matter that he was famous. It changed nothing—except that they might have to do a little sneaking around, which, frankly, sounded kinda fun. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to fake date her at a work party. Holy shit. Maybe after this, she could write a “secretly famous” book. She made a mental note to add it to her romance tropes encyclopedia later. It had started as research for the list, but the multipage Google Doc now had a permanent tab on her browser, each addition kindling to the near-dormant embers of her love of writing. She hoped it would catch fire soon, her fingers flying over the keyboard like they used to.

The elevator doors dinged open, and she spied a familiar gray coat by the revolving door.

Mason grinned warmly at her. “Figured it was easier if I just met you here,” he said brightly. Studying her face as she approached, his expression switched to one of concern. “You alright, Greene?”

“I’m fine, West,” she said coolly, coming to a halt in front of him.

He didn’t react at first, then—he blinked multiple times in succession, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck nervously. He cleared his throat. “I was going to talk to you about that today. I understand if you’re mad. I—” He sighed heavily. “I wanted to be anonymous for a night, and then when I saw you again… There’s not really a way to say, ‘Hey, by the way, I’m mildly famous,’ without sounding like a complete dick. I didn’t want to make it weird or for you to treat me differently, but I may have done that anyway, huh?” He shrugged helplessly.

Something inside her melted at his tone. She was no stranger to people treating her differently when they thought they could get something from her.

“I’m not mad,” she said sincerely. “I get why you didn’t say anything. It’s nice being anonymous. Only, now my bartender thinks I slept with some actor guy because he saw me leave with you.”

Mason smiled down at her. “You did sleep with me.”

Sawyer waved away his comment. “ Yeah , but I don’t want him to know that.”

Mason shoved his hands in his coat pockets, shoulders ratcheting up to his ears. “So, where do we go from here?” he asked nervously. “I promise full transparency moving forward—”

“No,” Sawyer interjected, holding up her hand. “I think this is good, actually. We agreed no names that night—”

“Which I ruined—”

“Yeah, but I think we should reapply that rule now.” Mason raised his brows skeptically at the glaring flaw. “It’s too late for our names, obviously, but everything else—we don’t need each other’s life story to do this. In fact, if we’re doing a bunch of romantic shit, probably best if we don’t know each other too well.”

“Surface level,” Mason mused, dimples appearing as he pursed his lips. “Smart. Add it to the rules.”

Sawyer grinned, banging an imaginary gavel. “Motion passed.” Surface level was where she lived, paid rent and property taxes, the whole shebang. Why hadn’t she thought of this safeguard before?

“But as it pertains to our list, I think I should know: Are you gonna be recognized everywhere we go?”

Mason shook his head. “We should be fine. The only paparazzi in Chicago are fans with smartphones, but we’ll keep public stuff to a minimum. And when we do go out, best thing about winter is that a coat and a hat do wonders to make you anonymous. Most people won’t recognize me if I’m not in scrubs.”

Sawyer chewed on the inside of her cheek. She had no desire to get dragged into his publicity mess, but googling him had only fortified her belief that if anyone could go toe-to-toe with her staunch attitude toward love, it would be the hopeless romantic standing before her now. She’d accepted Mason’s offer to cure each other on a whim, but she was quickly beginning to view it as a lifeline. Researching things to ruin with him was the most creative inspiration she’d felt in months. She needed this to work.

“We’re already here,” Mason said reasonably. “Give me today, one list item. I promise I won’t be recognized, and if you’re not inspired—at least a little bit—by the end of the day, I won’t waste your time with the rest of the list.”

Narrowing her eyes, Sawyer met his gaze. “Is that a challenge?”

Mason grinned, opening his arms in invitation. “Do your worst, Greene. Ruin me.”

Sawyer couldn’t help but return his grin. “Alright. But, full disclosure: I don’t have cable, so I’ve never seen your show.” Though the visual of Mason in scrubs did tempt her nether regions. She might have to start watching, but that might make not sleeping with him again impossible, and she did not have time for that kind of distraction right now. A one-night stand was one thing, but a relationship while she was on deadline? She knew all too well how that went.

He smiled. “I figured. If you do ever watch it, don’t tell me.”

Sawyer laughed. “Fair enough. I’m the same way about my books.”

“Oh,” he said mischievously. “I already read your books.”

She blinked at him, eyes widening in surprise. “Books? Plural?”

“Oh yeah. Almost Lovers ”—he counted each one on his fingers—“ Friends & Other F Words , and Why We’re Not Together .”

“Oh my God,” she mumbled, hiding her face. “Why?!”

He laughed. “I didn’t think I was going to see you again and I was curious! I auditioned for the Almost Lovers movie, but I didn’t get the part—obviously.”

Sawyer peered out from between her fingers. “Are you serious?”

“One hundred percent. Also, I get it now: the book is way better than the movie.”

Sawyer placed her hand over her heart. “Thank you.”

Shoving his hands deep into his coat, he grinned shyly down at her. “So, are we good? We still on?”

Pursing her lips in mock contemplation, she tugged open the collar of his coat, spying the agreed-upon red flannel underneath. A smile spread slowly across her face. “Oh hell yeah. C’mon, álvarez-West, daylight’s wasting.”

His face lit up as he hurried to get in front of her so he could open the door for her. “Where’s your car?”

She gestured proudly to her car out front, a premium parking spot.

Mason burst out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”