We decide to leave my truck here. Mason says he’ll bring me in to work tomorrow and stay with me all day. I want to tell him he doesn’t need to, but it’s a relief to know he’ll be there. We stop at my house, and after he does a sweep, I go upstairs to pack a bag. It should be easy, but when I open my underwear drawer, I seize up. Not like I have anything lacy or pretty anyway.
Reaching in, I just take a random handful and leave it at that.
Gathering my toiletries, I take a moment to email Wes to let him know what happened. Then I pack my laptop, and I’m good to go. I think.
On the way to Blackthorn, I stare out the window at the darkening Montana sky. Mason drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on his thigh. Casual. Controlled. Obviously not thinking about my sleeping arrangements.
The thought keeps circling. There's the main house. Emma told me once that Luke has a suite downstairs past the kitchen and Mason has a cottage—the stablemaster's quarters, set back behind the barn. Private. Isolated.
If I stay with him, it’d be like living together. Am I ready for that? Would it be so bad? Living with him?
The question makes my chest tight. Because the answer is no, it wouldn't be bad. It would be terrifying and wonderful and everything I've spent thirteen years telling myself I didn't want.
Mason glances over at me. “You're staying with me,” he says as if he’s been listening to the silent debate in my head. “That okay?”
I should probably feel trapped by the certainty in his voice. Instead, I feel something that might be relief. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
His jaw tightens slightly, like he's holding back something. Then he reaches his hand out.
I take it, lacing my fingers between his.
62
LILY
The stablemaster’s cottage sits behind the barn, tucked into the tree line like it was designed to disappear.
Mason pulls up and kills the engine. I sit in the passenger seat of his truck, staring at the small structure through the windshield. It's simple—wood siding weathered gray, a single window facing the main house, a door that looks reinforced. Functional. Tactical. Very Mason.
I follow him out of the truck, watching as Mason picks up my bag. The evening air is cold and sharp, carrying the scent of pine and horses. The main house glows warm in the distance—lights on in the kitchen, movement visible through the windows. Shadow hops out of the truck and darts toward it.
Mason unlocks the door and pushes it open, turning on the lights before stepping aside to let me enter.
The interior matches the exterior: sparse, organized, nothing wasted. There’s a nice kitchen to the left—clean counters, minimal dishes, a coffee maker that looks well-used. I think about what Emma said about Mason and omelets and turn away quickly, blushing.
The living room has a couch, a low table, a single chair positioned with a clear view of the door and window. Notelevision. No clutter. No personal items of any kind. There’s a staircase beyond the main room. I look up the stairs and see several rooms at the top.
Mason goes through and turns on all the lights downstairs before he rejoins me, my bag in his hand. “I’ll show you upstairs.”
At the top of the landing, he flips the hallway light on. “Hang on a second.”
I watch as he enters each room, turning on all the lights up here as well. Forme. I blink at him. How does he know?
“I pay attention, Lily.” He comes to stand in front of me and nods to my right. “My bedroom’s that way. The spare bedrooms”—he gestures to my left—“are there. You pick where you want to stay. There’s also a bedroom ready for you in the main house, but I didn’t think you’d be as comfortable there.”
I swallow thickly. Truthfully? I’m overwhelmed.
“If you decide to stay in my room,” he says quietly, “it doesn’t mean that anything will happen. I remember the rules. But I need to warn you. If you decide to stay in my room, you’re choosing to stay.”
“Until this mess is cleaned up?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Once you’re in my bed, I won’t let you go, so be sure you want that.”
Before I can process that, there's a knock at the door. Mason sets my bag down and jogs downstairs to open it.
Emma stands on the small porch, a plate in her hand and a concerned smile on her face. Her gaze flicks between us. “Hey, Lily. I just wanted to check in, to see if you need anything.”
Mason steps back. “Come in.”