Dream On (Dreams Come True) Page 2

  “Damn straight, I would have,” Brian agreed. “That was pathetic.”

  “Looked to me like you said something that pissed her off.” Temple ducked his head so he could check his hair in the rearview mirror. Since he wore a crewcut, there wasn’t much to check. Just to fuck with him, Mason flipped up the mirror, which earned him another punch through the seat.

  While his friends argued over who had the most game, Mason squeezed a lemon into his soda, recapped the lid and let his gaze wander over to the service window. Although he couldn’t hear them, it appeared that two women were bouncing around inside and screaming. Of course, Cassidy wasn’t one of them. Cassidy didn’t bounce. Cassidy worked. In high school, she and her two sisters had all worked at the school library with Mrs. Jenkins, and Mrs. Jenkins was a terror. One time, Robbie Burdaine had returned a heavy photobook on the NFL two weeks late, and Mrs. Jenkins slammed his fingers shut inside of it. If Cassidy Roby had survived four years with her, she was one tough cookie.

  But what was a hottie like Cassidy doing in a place like this? Mason took a long draft of soda and let the tart sweetness wash over his tongue. He watched her move around inside the prep area, wrapping burgers, assembling condiments. Of course, Cuervo wasn’t exactly cranking out job opportunities. There were maybe two sit-down restaurants that kept odd hours, and Artie’s, which might be thought of as the Saturday night hot spot. She did have a kid to support.

  That alone should have been enough to make him turn the page on his inner Rolodex. But his old feeling of nervous excitement swept over him when she came skating out with their trays, one balanced expertly in each hand. The seating area in the center of the horseshoe was swarming with Little Leaguers now, making her near-misses and semi-collisions all the more breathtaking to watch. Another minivan pulled up, disgorging more kids in baseball uniforms. They were everywhere, shoving and yelling. Mason had an uncomfortable awareness that when he and his friends got together, they didn’t act a whole lot better.

  “Here you go,” she said, gliding up to his window. “Sorry about the racket.”

  “They’re all right.” Mason purposely ignored the shit-eating grins on the faces of his teammates. He practically hurled Temple’s hamburger at him. “Remember what your dad used to say? ‘A boy ain’t nothing but a noise with some dirt on it.’” For the first time, Cassidy gave him a smile that didn’t seem at least partially professional. It transformed her wholesome face into something that made him feel as though he’d been sacked by a three-hundred-pound defensive lineman. Mason knew then that a grace had been given. Somehow he’d pulled away the mask. Beneath it lay an intense love for her family, her roots, her history. It was a woman’s love, and Mason didn’t know what to call it right away because he never saw it on the faces of the girls he knew.

  She kept the smile as she continued to deal out hamburgers, fries, and ketchup packets. “My poor dad. All he wanted was at least one boy to play ball with. What he got were three girls instead.”

  “I doubt he’s complaining,” Mason said, more confident now. “How are Doak and Priscilla? She ever manage to park her car in the garage?”

  Doak Roby, a retired fire chief, had motorcycle parts strewn from one end of his garage to the other. Priscilla always bickered with him about it, although never too seriously. Mason figured she mostly did it to keep things interesting.

  “Nope. And he bought a new Skil-Saw last week. Mom knows it’s a lost cause.”

  Cassidy retrieved her trays and tucked them under one arm. She moved with the grace of an athlete, and Mason had a sharp, heated fantasy of her naked body under his, of hearing her gasp when he entered her juicy little—

  “I’d better get back,” she said, killing his buzz. “Looks like Beth and Darlene are in the weeds.”

  ‘In the weeds’. Mason frowned. Must be shop talk. He didn’t want her to go, not yet. “Listen,” he said. “I’d like to visit your dad, you know, catch up, say hi. I wouldn’t be bothering anyone, would I?” Like Parker Nolen. Who may or may not be living with you.

  She leaned over again. Mason could feel himself drowning a little in the clear blue of her eyes. She bit her full bottom lip, pink like he imagined her nipples would be, hidden inside that flimsy bra. He couldn’t think clearly when she was this close, and he had to set his sandwich on his lap to hide a growing erection. Christ. What was wrong with him? Ten years later and he was still panting after her like a big dumb dog.

  “Dad would love that,” Cassidy said. “You know he thinks the world of you. And I’m sure Mom would invite all y’all to dinner, so don’t be shy.”

  “Home cooking sounds too good to pass up,” Jasper said around a mouthful of burger. “Mason here tried to cook us dinner once and set the kitchen on fire.”

  Cassidy looked up and her smile evaporated. “Uh oh. Hate to tell you, but it looks like you’ve been spotted.”

  Mason dragged his gaze away and saw at least a dozen yelling boys descending on him with pens, pencils, markers, receipts, and napkins that meant he’d be swamped for autographs. They were herded by a phalanx of parents whose indulgent smiles never hid the fact that they’d sent their kids in to do the dirty work.

  Before he could say anything to Cassidy, she’d coasted away and the first of his fans had lined up by the side of the car. So much for eating. At least Cassidy spared him an amused and not-unsympathetic smile.

  Brian slapped him on the back. “Go be a hero. Don’t forget to roll up your window on the way out.”

  “Oh, and leave your sandwich,” Jasper said.

  “You guys are the biggest dicks on the planet,” Mason told them.

  Temple reached over the seat to help himself to Mason’s fries. “Yeah, but at least we know how to get laid.”

  Chapter Two

  For the first time in a long time as she waited for Artie to turn off the big overhead restaurant sign, Cassidy wasn’t eager to ride home. She found herself lingering, one foot on the curb, the other on her bike pedal, letting the cool October night air wash over her. The restaurant seemed so desolate now without the lights and the kids and the bustle. And no matter what she’d done, whether zooming around with food trays like a crazy person or comforting a sweet boy with a tummy ache, all thoughts revolved around Mason. She played and re-played every word he’d said. She wondered if he had a girlfriend. But mostly she remembered the gut punch of seeing him, all six foot three inches of smooth sculpted muscle, patiently signing autographs outside his car.

  In a way, it was touching to see a man that big and splendidly masculine holding the crayon stubs his eager fans dug out of their floorboards and gloveboxes to offer him. He was so easy with the kids, too, teasing some, nodding solemnly to others. With his broad shoulders, narrow hips and short dark hair, he would have attracted attention even if he hadn’t been a local sports hero and multi-millionaire. He was an athletic sponsor’s dream, his crooked half-smile both roguish and charming—and at this point, splashed across almost every souvenir the Dallas Lone Stars sold. Not that she’d paid much attention, of course.

  She waved to Beth and Darlene, wincing when the back-end of Darlene’s Buick went KER-whump exiting the parking lot. Beth lived three blocks from Darlene, so it was an easy drop off. Cassidy preferred her bike. She worked the nightshift on Thursday and Saturday, even though Artie frequently told her not to. “You’re young. Go have a life,” he’d say, betraying the soft heart he tried to hide behind a grouchy exterior. But Cassidy didn’t want a life. She wanted exactly what she had: Lexie, her family, and her grandmother’s old ramshackle house with its wide front porch, its whispering sycamores, its thousand memories of when Grams was alive. Dad had made a tire swing for Lexie in the yard before she was even big enough to reach it.

  “Having a life” led to trouble, Cassidy reminded herself. She should know. It led to longing and heartache and a bunch of other stuff it didn’t pay to think about. Stuff t
hat always pointed back to Mason.

  And now Mason was here.

  She pedaled slowly past the deserted shops and empty parking spaces, past the half-barrels on the sidewalk brimming with early-season petunias. The big water tower with the word Cuervo on it, squat like a gnome with stick legs, loomed reassuringly against the night sky. A breath of wind brought with it the mossy smell of the creek and the sleepy chirping of crickets. The gravelly bark of the Wilsons’ Great Dane, Boomer, sounded from two streets over.

  Cassidy felt her heart swell as it always did when she rounded the corner and saw her sister’s bakery, Sweet Dreams, with its gilt lettering on the storefront window. Lexie loved her Aunt Maggie, something a mom learned to use to her advantage when trying to motivate a nine-year-old to do things she didn’t like to do. A trip to Maggie’s bakery with its yeasty aroma of dough rising and bread baking, of chocolate chunk macadamia nut cookies and fresh-brewed coffee, guaranteed that school work got done quickly and well. And there Maggie would be, up to her elbows in flour, singing along to the Frank Sinatra records playing on Grams’ old turntable.

  No, Cassidy knew how lucky she was. Being a single mom had been tough, no doubt about it. So far, neither Parker nor his family had shown any interest in his daughter. But she preferred it that way. What if they were constantly wrangling for custody in court? What if Lexie couldn’t spend Christmases with the only family she’d known, the only family that loved her?

  Cassidy spotted Mason’s car parked in front of the Double Aces Bar & Saloon and braked hard enough to skid. She froze, petrified that he might see her and think she was stalking him. Of course, he would go there with his friends. Not much else to do in a town this small. She could easily imagine the reception they’d gotten from regulars who’d watched every game on Dougie’s big screen. There were a handful of women who sometimes hung out there, too. Kayla, for instance. With her boobs. Cassidy refused to let herself think about Kayla.

  She slid off her ten-speed and walked it across the street where the awnings created deep shadow. He couldn’t see her now, but through the window she could see him perfectly. He and his friends were shooting pool. For a moment she just stood there taking it in, the lazy dangerous strength of his body as he lined up a shot, his easy smile, the way his forearms rippled beneath the rolled-up shirt sleeves. And despite her earlier contentment, a wave of desire crashed over her so fiercely her knees went weak.

  It had been so long since she’d felt anything close to sexual hunger, at first she didn’t recognize it. When she did, a terrible fear seized hold of her. She felt a little sick. Heat blistered her insides and raced to all her pulse points. For a second, she was fifteen again staring at hunky senior Mason Hannigan in his football jersey running drills out on the field.

  No one looked at her the way he did, that slow perusal that started with her eyes and then dropped to her lips as though he might devour them. When she talked to him, everything he’d seen, experienced, knew, made him different from her. Better. Mason was not only a celebrity, he was possibly the most eligible bachelor in America. She was a single mom who fixed her own leaky faucets and mowed her own stubborn lawn. She worked at Artie’s Burger Express.

  Ten years she’d spent doing damage control to her reputation. Ten long years trying to erase the shame of being a teen mom, of having had to clutch schoolbooks to her swollen belly in a vain attempt to disguise her condition. And while it was true that pregnant girls weren’t shipped off to distant relatives anymore, that didn’t mean people didn’t assume things about their character. Bad things. Cassidy had done everything within her power to make up for whatever disgrace her parents had suffered because of her.

  But God help her, she wanted Mason with a hunger that hurt her pride. Still. After all these years. Wanted him with the same blind intensity she’d had when she was fifteen. She watched him sink another ball, mesmerized by his grace, by the economy of movement of the powerfully built. When he straightened up to chalk his pool cue, the breadth of his shoulders alone worked its way over her skin like a heat rash, winding down and around to parts of her it was way easier to pretend didn’t exist.

  What a glorious male animal he was, lord of everything. She was Cinderella without the singing mice.

  The best thing she could do was avoid him. In a gesture that felt as though a decision had been reached, that she was already moving forward, Cassidy braced one foot on her bike pedal. If she wanted him, she’d just have to find a way to deal with it until he went back to Dallas and his Super Bowl rings and supermodel girlfriends. After all, she was twenty-five now, not fifteen. Her eyes were wide open.

  And if your eyes are open, she reminded herself as she launched the bike, you’re less likely to fall flat on your ass.

  * * * *

  It was going to be one of those mornings, Cassidy realized as she and Lexie stood panting on the sidewalk while the school bus chuffed merrily away.

  “Well, Lexerina, it looks like we’ll be walking to school,” she said, shouldering the heavy backpack.

  Lexie heaved a martyred sigh. “I hate it when you call me that.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since forever. I’m not two anymore.”

  “That’s right. I keep forgetting.”

  “If you call me Lexerina at school, I’m going to pretend I don’t know you.”

  “That’ll be kinda hard since we totally look alike.”

  Lexie made a pouty face that pulled all Cassidy’s maternal heartstrings, although she couldn’t show it. Adorable it may have been, but pouting wasn’t something a mom wanted to encourage.

  “Explain to me again why your shoes and your homework were out on the front porch,” she said. “Especially since it took us twenty minutes this morning to find them.”

  “Aunt April needed better cell phone reception.”

  Cassidy herded Lexie across the street and onto the sidewalk. “Since when does Aunt April talk on her cell phone while you’re doing homework?” The information surprised her, especially since it was sweet, conscientious April—who’d just been hired by Raymond County as a social worker. On Cassidy’s late nights, one of her sisters or her mom came over to babysit.

  Lexie paused by the Franklins’ rosemary bush as she always did to rub her hands on the leaves. The smell of rosemary wafted up, making them both inhale appreciatively before moving on.

  “Aunt April got a million calls and messages last night,” Lexie said, sniffing her hands. “You know we don’t get good reception in the house.”

  “What messages? Because of her work?”

  “No, because of you.”

  Cassidy felt her heart stutter like a bad car engine before wheezing back to life. Had someone seen her outside the Double Aces? Oh, what a horrible thought! What if they told Mason that she’d been lurking around, staring at him? Shame rose furiously in her cheeks. She hadn’t even so much as looked at a guy until Mason showed up. And now people were talking about her. Again. As though ten years of no dating, of always being there for her daughter, meant nothing at all.

  “Mom, are you okay? Your face is all red.”

  “I just want to know what business is it of theirs—”

  “You’re not mad, are you? At Aunt April? Because she didn’t say anything mean, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s that football guy. What’s his name—Mason? Everybody saw the video and—”

  “What video?”

  “Of him signing autographs at Artie’s.”

  “But what’s that got to do with me?”

  “One of the dads took a video and posted it on Facebook. You can see Mason totally staring at you like a big creeper. Oh, but he’s super cute though, you know, if you like him. Everybody wanted to know if y’all were dating so they called Aunt April.”

  Wow. Just… wow. Cassidy dragged the back of her hand across her perspiring forehead. She had no idea
what everyone thought they saw on this alleged video, but why they were calling her sister and asking questions about her life made Cassidy want to scream, cry or hide. Preferably all three. At the same time. But she had to walk Lexie to school. She had to buck up and smile at people when they started asking her questions, which they would. If there was one thing Cassidy knew for sure, it was that in Cuervo, secrets were pocket change that nobody expected to keep.

  “Well, it’s all a lot of nonsense,” she told Lexie as they crossed the high school football field. Lexie’s school was half a block past it, shaded by hundred-year-old cedars. “If anybody asks you, Lex, be sure to tell them you have no idea what they’re talking about. And that it’s rude to pry into other people’s business.”

  “I don’t know why you’re so mad about it.” She shoved her rosemary-scented hands inside the pockets of her hoodie. “Isn’t he rich or something?”

  “Uh, since when are we friends with people because they have money?”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Then what do you mean?”

  “Aunt April and Aunt Maggie and me…”

  Cassidy waited for her to finish that sentence, but her lips were already pressed together in a grimace of disapproval.

  “And Grandma and Grandpa. We think it would be nice if you went out sometimes, you know, like a regular person.”

  “I’m not a regular person?”

  “No,” Lexie said, her eyes wide with earnest appeal. “You’re a mom.”

  They covered the last quarter block in a reproachful silence that Cassidy hoped would put an end to further discussion of her love life. Or lack thereof. The relative peace of the football field gave way to a queue of yellow school buses erupting with kids. More kids yelled in the open-air hallways and burst into classrooms. The line of cars dropping off fretful grade-schoolers told Cassidy that the stressful morning had not been hers alone. Lots of parents were losing their minds.