Page 47 of Sin

“Nothing.”

“With seven brothers, I find that hard to believe.”

He says, “Everyone has plans this year.”

There’s something in the way he says it like he practiced making it sound casual and missed. I don’t want to ask.

Naturally, I do.

“What about Mrs. Sinclair?” My voice comes out lighter than I feel. “Surely she has family in town.”

“Her family lives in Kansas,” he says. “Which is where she is.”

Oh. There are a million things I want to ask. Why aren’t you with her? Why did you offer me a ride if you’re going home to an empty house? Why does that make my chest feel tight?

I don’t get the chance, because he speaks again.

“To answer your other question, the windows are tinted for privacy.” I swear his tone lowers. “No one can see what’s happening inside here.”

My traitorous mind jumps right back to the kiss scenario, except this time it’s darker inside the truck. Warmer. The rain louder. The windows fogged enough that the whole world disappears.

My pulse thrums in my neck. And lower.

“Fascinating,” I say, because apparently that is the only word my brain has left.

Mason’s gaze cuts to me. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

He smiles then, not fully, but enough that it promises trouble.

“Bet I can guess where your mind went.”

I turn toward him. “I doubt that.”

“You sure?”

“Extremely.”

His fingers tighten around the wheel as he eases the truck forward. “You were wondering what all you can do in this truck without being seen.”

My lips part. Because he’s mostly right.

“And how did you come to that conclusion?”

“Because you pressed your knees together.”

My entire body goes hot and I look out the window so fast I nearly give myself whiplash.

“I did not!”

He says nothing. Which is worse. Silence from Mason Sinclair is never empty. It is heavy and deliberate and somehow more inappropriate than words.

I fold my arms. “Fine. Maybe I was wondering.”

“About the tint?”

“Yes.”