Page 60 of The Grump Next Door
MASON:Dinner tonight? 7p.m.? Casual at the house.
MASON:Ivy demands your presence.
MASON:She insisted and she gets violent when people skip meals.
I stare at my disaster of a workspace — seating charts everywhere, three empty coffee cups forming a grief support group on the windowsill.
ME:I should work through dinner.
MASON:She will hunt you down.
MASON:Dean’s cooking too btw.
My stomach does this stupid flippy thing.
ME:Dean cooks?
MASON:Shockingly well.
MASON:See you at 7! :)
Great. Dinner with the happy couple and their brother who makes me forget basic motor functions whenever he does that thing with his sleeves. The thought alone short-circuits my focus.
I check the time. 5:47. Crap.
Not much time to make a dent in my to-do list, but still, I try my best.
An hour passes in what feels like the blink of an eye.
I grab the first clean thing I find—jeans with a hole in the knee and an oversized sweater that keeps falling off my shoulder. Hair goes up in a messy bun secured with the nearest writing implement (a pencil, because I’m classy like that).
The walk to the main house takes thirty seconds. Long enough to wonder what the hell I’m doing. Not long enough to come up with a good excuse to bail.
I knock once and walk in because apparently, we’re at that level of familiarity now.
“—just saying she’s nice,” Mason’s voice drifts from the kitchen.
“I hadn’t noticed.” Dean. Dry as dust.
“Bullshit. I saw you watching her during the tent setup.”
“I was watching my property value plummet.”
“Through her tank top?”
“Mason—”
“What? She’s hot. You’re single. Math isn’t your strong suit?”
I clear my throat, and both brothers freeze — Mason perched on the counter like an overgrown teenager, Dean at the stove with a wooden spoon and a murderous look.
“Hey.” I hold up the wine I grabbed from my emergency stash. “Brought the good stuff.”
Dean’s face does this thing, part embarrassment, part amusement.
“Where’s Ivy?” I ask, desperately needing another person in this room.
“Upstairs. Changing. She’ll be down soon.” Mason hops down, swipes the wine. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour while Dean has his control issues in private.”
