Intercepted (New Hope #1)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Mallory

When I enter the kitchen, I keep my head down, hair covering my face. I spot a tray of bread that needs to be doused in garlic butter and set to work on that. Mom and Stephanie exchange a curious glance but continue their own activities.

The Eagles are halfway through the third quarter, the announcers and intermittent NFL music loud enough to drown out any other sound from the living room. I pray to God the volume was that high while Mason was...

Jesus Christ, I think I can still feel his tongue between my legs. My inner thighs are wonderfully sore from where his facial hair scraped my skin. His hungry, animalistic groans are bouncing around inside my skull. When I blink, I see his umber eyes locked on mine, his pupils blown with feral lust.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy—

"You okay, Mal?" Mom asks, setting her hand on my wrist. "I don't think that bread needs anymore butter."

I snap back to reality, noting the loaf of bread absolutely soaked. And that's not the only thing soaked.

Mason Reeves just went down on me in my childhood bedroom while our family milled about downstairs, none the wiser. He went down on me in the same room he used to sneak into late at night, climbing the lattice below my window. It's the same room I raised the twins in, at least until I turned eighteen.

Stephanie places her elbows on the counter, setting her chin in her palms. "Why were you upstairs so long?"

I blush, rubbing my cheek with the back of my hand to hide it. "I ran into Mason. We were looking at the twins' crib."

She narrows her eyes. "For twenty minutes?"

"I found some old yearbooks in the closet." I push a fresh tray of bread into the oven. The blast of heat only adds to the perspiration under my arms. "We were flipping through them."

"That's interesting," Stephanie muses, sharing another charged glance with our mother. "Because Mom moved the yearbooks into the attic last summer."

Oh, fuck.

Mom fluffs her curls, looking proud of herself. "I may have sent Mason upstairs to look for a baking sheet that doesn't exist."

My mouth pops open. Did my mother just admit to performing a meet-cute stunt worthy of The Parent Trap? She knows I visit my old bedroom during halftime to reminisce about the twins' early years. She told Mason to go upstairs, knowing he'd find me alone.

"Are you trying to set us up?" I ask, flabbergasted.

"I'm assuming you two had a pleasant conversation and a short, sweet kiss," she answers, unashamed to admit to meddling. "I don't want to know anything more."

"Please." Stephanie rolls her eyes, slapping her palms on the counter. "Her hands are shaking, her eyes are watery, and she's flushed. We both know that wasn't a kiss. At least, not on her mouth—"

"That's it!" Mom tosses her 'Happy Fall, Y'all' dishtowel in the air, spinning around on her heel. "You two finish the cooking. I need a large glass of wine and an ice pack."

My blush turns crimson. My mother would have a heart attack if she knew what Mason and I just did. My father would chase him out of town with his shotgun. And my kids... shit, I don't know what they'd do if they found out I just snuck around with their dad like we were still in high school.

I run my fingers through my hair, feeling nauseous.

"Oh, my God!" Stephanie notices my state of distress, her eyes widening. "Something did happen. I knew it!"