Page 4 of Mason: His to Convince

Slouching in her seat she began to see just how serious he was as he got out of the truck and came around to her side. Opening the door he waited to help her out.

“I will not go in that store wearing this short skirt, and these spike heels,” she ground out between clenched teeth.

“Yes, you will”, he stated, completely unconcerned with her temper. ‘You can walk in under your own power, or you can be carried in over my shoulder, although I’m not sure the bag boys could handle it. That skirt is pretty short.” Reaching in, he slid one arm under her legs, the other behind her back and very efficiently removed her from the truck, setting her gently on her feet. He closed the door and hit the button for the locks and alarm, waiting for her to make up her mind.

For a moment she contemplated giving him a good kick in the shin, but as if he read the thought in her eyes he grasped her and a proceeded to steer her across the parking lot.

“You, Mason Kord,” she told him, plastering a tight lipped smile on her face, “Are an overbearing son of a bit…”

“Ah, Ah, Ah,” he said grinning. ‘Watch out or we’ll make the soap aisle our first stop.”

“In your dreams,” she shot back and stomped into the store, totaling ignoring the people who stared in amusement at the tall dark man in cowboy boots and the tiny blonde who looked like she just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine.

A silent war raged through the aisles of the Super Duper that night. She pushed the cart and dropped in Twinkies, cheese twists and soda, daring him with her eyes to say one thing, just one thing. He put in fresh fruits and vegetables. She chose frozen pizza; he lean chicken and fish fillets. Up and down the aisles they went, grabbing the strangest combination of healthy and junk food the cashier had ever seen.

They had a short lived battle in the last aisle when she nonchalantly dropped in a carton of cigarettes and he deftly removed it placing it on the top shelf beyond her reach. Knuckles white as her hands gripped the cart, ready to turn and run him over, she was caught off guard as his hands closed over hers from behind and he pulled the cart close to her, effectively pinning her between the cart and his strong body. She could feel the heat of him and as he bent to whisper in her ear, her legs went suddenly weak.

‘Keep it up and I swear to God I’ll put you in this cart, just like that little girl,” he growled not quite quietly enough.

Lifting her head, she smiled weakly at the father and daughter coming down the aisle from the other direction.

“Is that pretty lady in trouble, Daddy?’ the toddler innocently asked her father.

“Sounds like it doesn’t it honey”, he answered, and his eyes smiling as he nodded to Mason and Rebecca as they passed.

“All right,” she hissed at him proceeding on and at the last moment snatching a six pack of beer.

“Thank you,” Mason smiled cockily as he removed it from the cart,” but that’s not my brand,” and replaced it with his choice.

Ready to explode she turned and almost shouted. “I don’t give a …,” but seeing him nod to someone behind her she found herself swallowing her words and also nodding to the elderly couple.

She made him pay, smiling helplessly as she lifted her empty hands, no purse. Leading the way out of the store she left him to handle the heavy bags. The added height from her heels enabled her to climb into the truck on her own while he loaded the bags in the back.

“There, that wasn’t so bad,” he remarked when he finished and climbed in beside her.

Rebecca didn’t answer, just raised one eyebrow and kept her mouth shut.

Mason started the truck and headed out of the parking lot, figuring even though she was mad, she’d get over it soon enough. If not, he’d help her.

As soon as they came to a stop in front of her house she bolted from the truck and stalked away without him. Not even offering to carry a bag she dug her extra key out of the planter and let herself in.

Proceeding to her bedroom she stripped off her good clothes and jewelry and threw on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. Taking her hair down she gave it a quick brushing then wiped off most of her makeup. She could hear Mason in the kitchen, obviously not trusting her to even put the things away, and he was humming. That sound was the last straw. As far as she was concerned he could take his cheerful self right the hell out of her house and she intended to tell him so.

Entering the kitchen she was momentarily caught off guard. He looked so out of place in her tiny kitchen, putting things away, lining up canned goods neatly in the cupboard, discarding anything he thought questionable, that she smiled despite herself.

“Well, aren’t you the little homemaker,” she taunted, leaning against the doorway, bare feet crossed with absolutely no desire to help him.

“Did you want to keep this?” he inquired innocently, dangling a hairy green object in a little baggie at her. “It’s been here so long I thought you might have some sort of strange attachment to it.”

“That’s it,” she yelled, storming across to the table and grabbing a large grapefruit. “One more word and you and this grapefruit are going to become very well acquainted,” she continued pointedly, brandishing it like a weapon.

He laughed aloud at that, the rich sound rumbling from deep in his chest. She looked absolutely adorable standing there in her jeans, hair pulled back into a pony tail, threatening him with a grapefruit. Adorable until it sailed past his right ear and smacked into the cupboard.

“Hey, watch that,” he yelled. “Boy some people just can’t see the humor in a situation,” he grumbled to no one in particular and returned to storing away the food.

Waiting patiently until he had the kitchen neat as a pin, after all this was his idea, she then took his hand and led him to the front door.

“Good night Mason.”