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Harper’s phone buzzed again and she pinched her lips together. Mason had texted three times this morning and she had been studiously ignoring him. But it seemed the more she ignored him, the more determined he became and the less focused she managed to be.
They had spent all day apart yesterday and Harper had struggled all day long. Her brain had been at her canvas, but her heart had been elsewhere, and it had shown in everything she’d done.
She was ready to throw her canvas away and start over, but with the deadline looming, she couldn’t do it. There was absolutely not enough time to come up with something new.
Her phone finally stopped making noise and Harper let out a breath of relief. Maybe now he would leave her alone. She wasn’t trying to stay away from him forever, just...until she got herself figured out. Talking to Mason, having him touch her or even hearing Layla’s laugh, wouldn’t allow Harper to make a good decision. She’d be swayed by how much she enjoyed all those things, and then her heart would lead her head and she’d once again find her business crumbling at her feet.
No. This needed to be done in a much more strategic manner and that meant providing her own company for a little bit longer.
Harper studied her canvas. She had ditched the Impressionist idea. Yes...the winner of this particular competition usually had an Impressionistic vibe, but Harper just couldn’t wrap her head around it.
Nature was her specialty and that was going to be her best bet. She decided a few more trees on the mountain would be a good idea and began squirting green paint onto her work table. She wanted it a little lighter and added just a touch of white so there would be a greater contrast.
Just as she was lifting her hand to paint, there was a knock on the door and Harper sighed. She probably needed to ignore it, like she had her phone, but...
The knock sounded again.
Closing her eyes, Harper shook her head. “Coming!” she called. Setting down the brush, she wiped her hands on her smock and rushed to the door. “Oh! Hey, Mason.” Her heart lurched in her chest at the sight on her front porch.
Mason looked good enough to eat in his tight T-shirt and freshly combed hair. His beard was neatly trimmed and showed off his amazing jawline. He might be a big guy, but Harper knew she would enjoy staying inside his protective arms forever, if given half a chance.
“Harper!” Mason grinned and bounced Layla, who was reaching for Harper.
Harper stepped up and took the little girl. “Hey, sweetie. Come on in, guys.” She stepped back. “This is an unexpected visit.”
Mason rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I know, sorry. I tried calling, but...” He waved at her apron. “You’ve obviously been working, I’m sorry to interrupt it.”
Harper shook her head. “It’s fine. I needed a break anyway.” The words weren’t a lie, but Harper felt torn anyway. This was exactly what she had been afraid of. Now all she wanted to do was play with Layla and spend time with Mason. But what about her painting?
“I promise not to take your whole afternoon,” he said. “But I needed to talk to you about something.”
“Okay.” Harper tilted her head and swayed back and forth, glancing at Layla with a smile when the little girl began playing with her ponytail. She seemed to have a thing for Harper’s hair and it was fun as long as Layla didn’t pull too hard.
“I’m not quite sure how to say this, but...” Mason blew out a breath. “Mom got a new lawyer and she’s coming after Layla.”
Harper’s jaw dropped and she stopped moving. “Say what?”
He nodded. “Yeah. You know how Crew showed up at my house the other night, when I left the party? He called when I wasn’t home and told me about it. That’s why I ran out so quickly.”
“Mason,” Harper breathed. Shock couldn’t begin to describe the numbness that was taking over her system. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Mason had mentioned before his mother had threatened to come after Layla, but Harper hadn’t believed it would truly come to that. Now here it was...staring her in the face and she could barely wrap her brain around it. “What are you going to do?”
Mason swallowed. “I’ve got a lawyer friend helping me out. He’s actually the lumbermill’s lawyer, but he studied family law early in his career, so he was willing to take on the case.” Mason shrugged. “I’m going to fight. What else can I do?”
Harper nodded. “That’s the only thing you can do.” She looked at Layla, who was watching them with her two favorite fingers in her mouth. “You can’t let her go, Mason,” Harper whispered. “You just can’t.”
“I know,” Mason choked out. He scrubbed his hands down his face. “It’s just...hard to feel like I have a chance of winning. My mom has money, experience and stability on her side. I’m just...me.”
Harper set Layla down and walked over, resting her hands against Mason’s chest. “Mason, no one is more qualified to take care of that little girl.”
He snorted. “Harper, you had to come over for days to show me how to take care of her. I’m not sure the word ‘qualified’ should be used in conjunction with me at all.”
Harper playfully slapped his chest. “None of that.” She pointed to Layla. “No one loves that little girl like you.” Harper shook her head hard. “Your mother might have more money, but she doesn’t have Layla’s best interest at heart, not even close. Don’t you dare give up before you’ve even fought. Layla needs you.”
Mason’s eyes grew intense in a way that put butterflies in Harper’s stomach. His hands landed on her hips and he flexed them several times. Why, oh why couldn’t it be naptime?
“Thank you,” he said in a low tone. “I needed to hear you say that.”
Harper gave him a small smile. The air was still too heavy for levity, but if she didn’t say something, she would rise up on her tiptoes and kiss him whether or not Layla was around. “I know.”
Mason barked a laugh and let go of her. “I never quite know what I’m going to get with you,” he said between laughs.
Harper’s smile was more relaxed now. She could think better now that he wasn’t touching her. “Come on. I’ll feed you two lunch. My stomach’s been growling for hours.”
Mason picked up Layla and pried the magazine she was shredding out of her hands. “Sorry.”
Harper waved him off. “No worries. It’s an old one anyway.” She took it from him and tossed it in the garbage. “Quesadillas okay?”
“Works for me,” he said as he followed her into the kitchen. “How’s the painting coming?”
The question was completely innocent, but made her pause. This was one of the times that Maeve had been talking about. Only one thing could be important. Either Harper could usher them out of the house so she could paint, or she could set aside the painting and enjoy their time. With Layla’s nap hitting soon, Harper knew Mason would have a few ideas of how to pass the time, and the thought sent a thrill up her spine. She wanted it too. She wanted the kiss she had been denied just a few minutes ago. She wanted him to hold her and tell her it would all be okay, the same way she had done for him. She wanted...
“It’s fine,” Harper said, turning toward the fridge so he couldn’t see how strained her smile was. “It’s coming along just fine.”
*****
MASON SET LAYLA AT the table. Harper sounded slightly off, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. His mind was so caught up in their little missed moment that he was struggling to think of anything else. He didn’t want to give up Layla, but man...he wanted to kiss Harper.
This was exactly the conundrum he’d been trying to tell Crew about when they’d been talking yesterday. Crew seemed to think Harper should simply be given a choice, but Mason was torn. Yes, he was falling for Harper, and despite the fact that they were dating, he really didn’t feel like it had been fair of him to ask her in the first place.
All he could do was hope Harper knew what she was getting into. She had been such an angel with Layla, he had to believe that she understood why he waited instead of simply kissing her whenever he wanted to.
“What can I help with?” Mason asked, straightening and stretching his back.
“Do you want to grab some salsa and sour cream out of the fridge?” Harper called over her shoulder. “Or do you have some other topping in mind?”
“Those work for me.” He dug through the shelves until he found what he wanted and glanced back to see Layla playing with the napkin holder. “Crud.” Napkins were flying everywhere and he ran over to stop her.
Harper laughed. “Let her go. They’re just paper and she’s happy.”
Mason scratched his beard. “You sure? It’s gonna be a mess.”
“I’m sure.” Harper was still laughing under her breath, so Mason decided to follow her advice.
“You’re awfully chill about messes and stuff,” he said, coming back into the kitchen.
Harper smiled. “Art is messy,” she said. “It’s a part of life.”
Mason shrugged. “I suppose so.”
“You’re a neatnik, aren’t you?”
He scrunched up one side of his face. “Maybe.” He held up a finger. “Or maybe was is the better term. But being neat while I was a single guy living alone was easy. Now it doesn’t matter how much I clean, Layla can mess it up within seconds.”
Harper nodded. “Imagine when you’re married and have multiple kids. Those poor stay at home moms.”
“Or dads,” Mason muttered. He couldn’t seem to stop his brain from taking her sentence a little further. As in...imagine if he and Harper got married and had more children...
His neck heated and he cleared his throat. That future didn’t sound too bad...but he and Harper weren’t even close to that deep of a relationship yet. He’d barely managed to spend more than an hour with her at any given point in time.
He looked over to see Layla still happy as a clam with her shredded napkins, and then scooted next to Harper. “Need any help?” he whispered. He could smell her shampoo and almost bent down for a deeper sniff.
Yeah...that’s not creepy at all.
Harper sent him a flirty smile. “Are you saying I don’t know how to make quesadillas?”
Mason opened his eyes wide and shook his head. “Nope. I’d never say such a thing.”
Harper laughed just like he hoped. “Alright, hot shot. If you can do better, be my guest.” Harper stepped back, handing him the spatula. “Don’t tell me you can flip them like you do a pancake.”
Mason shook his head. “Not a chance. I’d probably throw hot cheese everywhere.”
Harper wiped her forehead dramatically. “Thank goodness. I’ve been shown up in the kitchen enough for one lifetime.”
Mason chuckled and turned the tortillas. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
Harper pursed her lips. “Hm...something you don’t know...” She tilted her head. “I hate the color black.”
Mason paused. “Really? Don’t you use it in your paintings?”
Harper nodded. “Of course. But it’s my least favorite color.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it’s the absence of every other color,” Harper explained. “I don’t like how too much black makes things feel heavy or takes away from the bright happiness of something like, say, yellow. A little black can help the yellow pop, but too much causes the yellow to look sickly and the entire painting suddenly drags.”
Mason moved the quesadilla to a plate. “Wow...I didn’t realize painting was so philosophical. There are probably some metaphors for life in what you just said.”
Harper grinned. “Even a blind squirrel gets an acorn now and again.”
Mason shook his head with a smile and the next few minutes were quiet while they finished cooking and setting up lunch.
Harper cut the first, and now cooled, quesadilla into small pieces and took the plate to Layla before coming back. “Looks like that’s about it,” she said. “We should be covered.”
Mason slipped the last one out of the hot pan, set it aside and turned off the stove. “Great. I’m starving.”
Harper punched his arm. “You’re always starving.”
No man was strong enough to let that line go. He shifted and caged her in against the counter with his arms on either side. “Maybe my appetite is for more than just cheese and tortillas.”
Her blue eyes sparkled with joy and it only urged him on. “Oh?” Harper asked innocently. “What else could you possibly be hungry for?”
Mason leaned down until he was hovering just above her mouth. “You,” he said before giving her a quick peck. That was all it took. That one small second was enough to remind Mason of exactly what he’d been missing the past couple of days.
Harper must have felt similarly because they’d barely pulled apart before both of them reached for each other.
Mason couldn’t get his arms tight enough around her. He had one hand in her air and one wrapped around her back and still couldn’t get her close enough. When her hands went to his own hair, his knees shook and he worried he would take them both to the floor.
All his worries and concerns fled. He had Harper in his arms. His angel was right where she belonged and that meant the world was right again. The anxiety he’d been trying to drive out by chopping wood fled and he knew that no matter what life threw at him, he could handle it as long as Harper was by his side.
A scream tore through the air, followed by a thud, then silence, and Mason jumped away from Harper so fast that she almost fell over.
“Layla,” he breathed. Turning, he sprinted around the countertop to find Layla on the floor with a pool of blood around her head.
The little girl’s face was red and her mouth open, but sound didn’t emerge for three eternally long seconds. When her cry finally rent the air, it was as if the world came back into focus. Horrible, bloody, traumatic focus.
Mason grabbed his niece and cradled her in his arms. “Call nine-one-one,” he said hoarsely, not bothering to look up. “Call nine-one-one.”