Charmed: A Prescott Novel (The Prescott Series Book 3) Read online

  Lucy’s laugh sounded extra loud coming through the receiver.

  “I need to talk to you,” I went on. “But as my friend and sister-in-law, not as Mason’s best friend.”

  “Sure.”

  After I audibly swallowed, I said, “I think I made a mistake with Mason, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “What kind of mistake?” Her voice was laden with concern, which I knew would happen.

  “Please don’t judge me.” I rubbed my temples.

  “I’d never do that, but you’re making me nervous.”

  After I expelled a long breath and gave myself a silent pep talk, I said, “I think we went to third base last night.” I hated to use the baseball reference, but I wasn’t sure how to explain it. I wasn’t even sure if that’s what third base was anymore.

  She laughed. “You lost me.”

  I sighed. “We got a little tipsy. A lot tipsy, and there was a storm—”

  Lucy cut me off. “Are you guys okay?”

  “Yes, thank you. But we shared a hotel room last night and a bed. One thing led to another, and . . . well, you know . . .”

  “Oh! That third base.”

  She squealed so loudly, I actually shushed her. “God, Lucy, are the dogs in the neighborhood barking?”

  “I’m sorry, but this is fantastic. Mason must be extremely happy.”

  Was he? “He doesn’t know. I mean, I’m not sure if he knows. It happened in the middle of the night, and now I feel weird and I’m not sure if it was reality or not. Ugh, this sucks. Why did I drink so much?”

  “Trust me, if it happened, he knows. He’s liked you for a long time.”

  She wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t know, but it didn’t help the ickiness that had settled inside me.

  “I don’t know what to do. I mean, I like him too, but what if he’s my rebound guy? That would be bad, right? And if he isn’t my rebound guy, how do I start something I can’t finish? Plus, I love having him as a friend. What if I screw that up?”

  “Gretchen, didn’t you say you wanted to take life by the balls?”

  “Yes.” Little did she know I literally almost grabbed some balls not too long ago.

  “Then I don’t see the problem. You’re both adults. Talk to him.”

  I heard the water still running, but he’d probably be out soon.

  “I will.” My bladder screamed at me. I needed to pee. Dammit, we only had one bathroom. “I gotta go. Call you later. Thanks for listening; I love you.”

  I clicked off the call and scurried toward the bathroom. Just as I was about to knock on the door to ask if I could go in, I heard a moan, then another.

  Was he hurt? Did he fall?

  Without a second thought, I opened the door and stared at his figure behind the foggy glass, hot water pounding over him.

  His one arm was outstretched as he propped himself against the tile in front of him, the other gliding up and down . . . I squinted my eyes, trying to focus . . . up and down his erection.

  Holy shit. The urgency to pee disappeared as I stared wide-eyed at what was happening.

  More groaning as he pumped faster. Water splashed on the glass, creating tiny windows in the steam. I bit my lip, and my heart pounded as I continued my voyeurism.

  His right leg shifted backward, his right knee bent, giving me a better view of what was happening. He looked like an Adonis.

  I’d never watched a man jerk off before, and this was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. More pumping, more groaning, and one might have come out of my mouth along with his. Mason let out a feral growl as I watched him ejaculate. Spurt after spurt, then his chest heaved as he leaned forward, resting his head on the tile.

  My bladder reminded me why I was there, but my brain made me turn around and leave the small space, closing the door so I could knock from the outside.

  “One sec,” came from beyond the door.

  “Sorry. I need to use the bathroom.”

  Mason opened the door. My gaze roamed his wet body from the droplets of water falling off the ends of his hair to where his towel rested on his lower hips. Doing my best not to turn every shade of crimson, I just smiled.

  “Hi. I’m sorry, but I need to go.”

  He stepped aside and let me in before closing the door, leaving me alone.

  As I sat down, I turned my head toward the shower. I’d never forget what I’d seen, nor did I think I wanted to.

  Sadly, I still needed to shower, and knew it would be the quickest shower I’d ever taken.

  CHAPTER 22

  ~ Mason ~

  Gretchen fidgeted next to me in the car. We had both been uncharacteristically quiet all morning. The only thing we’d discussed so far was where we were headed. After checking the weather, which thankfully reported clear skies ahead, we headed to Monterey.

  I turned on the radio in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension in the car. I also contemplated putting the roof down so the elephant could escape. This was verging on ridiculous.

  “How’s your headache?” I asked.

  “It’s just about gone. How are you feeling this morning?”

  This conversation was completely lame, but at least we were talking. “Good, but I didn’t have as much as you did. I figured you’d take a long hot shower, but I don’t even think you were in there five minutes.”

  She gasped, which made my head snap toward her. After I had refocused on the road, I asked, “What? Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, I just didn’t know you were timing me.” Her reply was a bit curt and not at all like her.

  Seeing a sign for a farmers’ market, I pulled down the narrow road. When we left the car, my first instinct was to hold her hand, but her arms were crossed over her chest.

  “Let’s get a bite to eat.”

  Gretchen nodded and we headed over to a food truck. Once we had our food, I led her to a bench in a park. She unwrapped her burrito and took a bite while never looking at me. This needed to stop.

  “One of three things need to happen,” I said. “You can decide which.”

  Her eyes shifted toward me.

  “One, we talk about what happened last night. Two, we pretend nothing happened and go on our merry way, or three, we turn around and go home, because getting the silent treatment is killing me, Gretch. I refuse to do it for the rest of the day, not to mention the rest of the week. So, decide. Which is it going to be?”

  She set her lunch down on her lap. “Number one.”

  Thank God that was what she picked. The others would have sucked.

  “Come on.”

  With her hand in mine, and our lunch back in the bag, we headed farther into the park and away from people. When we were pretty much alone, I stopped walking and turned to look at her.

  “Would it be easier if I started?”

  Gretchen shook her head. “No, I’d like to go first.”

  “Then by all means, go ahead.” My ribs felt like they were constricting my lungs. Each of my nerve endings were raw, utterly exposed.

  “When I woke up this morning, I wasn’t sure if what happened was real or if I dreamed it.” She started playing with her necklace, gliding the small charm back and forth on the chain.

  “I can assure you it most certainly was real.”

  “Then why haven’t you spoken to me?” She looked at her feet before meeting my eyes again. “You didn’t let me touch you, yet you took care of it on your own.” She shrugged. “I guess I thought you didn’t want me like you said you did.”

  Was there a camera in the trees? Was I on an episode of Punked?

  “Not want you?” I tried to chuckle, but it came out more like a huff. “Gretch, you’ve got to be kidding me. You’re everything I want, and when I told you that, I meant it. I’m falling for you hard. When I woke up and my hands were on you, I thought I was the one having the dream, but then we talked and I knew it was real. What I feel for you is real.”

  I ran my hand along the back of m
y neck. Then I realized what she meant before.

  “What do you mean, I took care of it on my own?” My face heated. Fuck.

  “I saw you this morning.” Her pretty pink lips twisted into half a grin.

  “Been a peeper for long?” I smirked, which earned me a slap to my bicep.

  “Of course not. I had to use the bathroom, and when I knocked, I heard you moaning. I thought you might have fallen or something, so I opened the door to help you.”

  “But you ended up helping yourself?” Her shoulders sagged, which made me laugh. “Did you enjoy the show?”

  Rather than yelling, slapping me, or making a snide comment, she licked her lips and looked me from head to toe and back again. “As a matter of fact, I did. It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  And feisty Gretchen was back. Thank God.

  So much for not getting a raging hard-on at her admission of what she saw. Technically, I should have been embarrassed, but the knowledge that she’d watched turned me on more than it probably should have.

  “Sexiest thing, huh? Here I would have thought it was what I did to you in bed. I must be losing my touch.”

  Her face turned a pretty shade of pink. “Trust me, your touch is just fine. It seems we’ve crossed a line.”

  I nodded. “Seems that way. Regrets?”

  She straightened her spine and pulled her shoulders back. “Just that I wasn’t in the shower with you.”

  “We could rectify that later, if you’d like.” I happily waggled my eyebrows, and she laughed. “Look, princess, next time something happens that makes you uncomfortable, we need to talk about it. Agreed?”

  “Yup, agreed. Are we good?”

  I took her hand in mine and kissed her knuckles. “Yeah, we’re great. So, poker tonight?”

  “Only if it’s strip poker.” She tugged me forward. “Come on, surfer boy. Let’s get out of here.”

  * * *

  Now that we were talking and laughing, and Gretchen was singing again, our drive time flew by. We pulled into Monterey, specifically Cannery Row, where Gretchen was in her glory with the shopping.

  Holding hands was the norm for us now. Everything with Gretchen felt so natural. Granted, we hadn’t declared we were more than friends, but just being with her was enough for me.

  We played Frisbee on the beach, watched the sun set, and had a great time. My anticipation grew, as thoughts of what the rest of this trip could hold for us consumed me.

  “I have a surprise for you.” I maneuvered the car down the winding road, ending at a small bar called Eagle’s Nest. The parking lot was packed, and music played from outdoor speakers.

  Gretchen looked up as I found a place to park the car. “What is this place?”

  “One of the locals told me about it when you were shopping. Come on.” We both hustled out of the car, wove our fingers together, and went inside.

  “Wow, it’s big in here.” Gretchen scanned the room, looking for a place to sit. Since I was taller, I found an open table and led her to it.

  A waitress came to take our drink order and handed us a menu.

  “What do you think?” I asked Gretchen. “It’s a nice place, isn’t it?”

  Patrons were wearing shorts, T-shirts, and flip-flops. Some of the women, like Gretchen, were wearing summer dresses, but the overall vibe was far from pretentious.

  “It’s fantastic. California is so laid-back. I didn’t think I’d fit in, but I like it.”

  My cheeks rose with the curve of my lips. “I’m glad.”

  The waitress returned with my beer and Gretchen’s margarita. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

  Just as I was about to say no, Gretchen asked, “Is there a band here tonight?”

  “Not tonight. It’s karaoke night. Would you like a song list?”

  When Gretchen nodded enthusiastically, she was handed a piece of laminated paper. “Thank you.”

  “My name is Rachel. If you’d like to sing a song or maybe a duet, give me a holler.” The waitress walked away and Gretchen smiled.

  “You brought me to a karaoke bar. We need to do a duet.”

  “Um . . . no.” The rest of my beer tasted like water as I slammed it back. “I’m not a singer.”

  “Please, Mason?” She batted her eyelashes at me. “I’d do it for you.”

  “Really? That’s the card you’re playing?” This woman could get me to do just about anything, but get up and sing in front of all of these people was pushing it.

  “How about I’ll sing one, and then we’ll do a duet.”

  Rachel was back, and this time I ordered a pitcher of beer rather than a glass. Liquid courage was definitely needed. Gretchen laughed before scooting her chair next to me so we could look at the song list.

  “Thank you for coming tonight,” an older man announced from the small wooden stage. “Kicking off our night is Maggie. She’ll be singing ‘Love Shack.’”

  Gretchen rolled her eyes. “So typical.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “What?”

  “Nothing. Do you see something you’d like to sing?”

  I did my best to point out solos for her, hoping she’d have so much fun singing, she’d forget doing a duet.

  “Yes, I love this song.” She pointed to the title “Something to Talk About.”

  We waved Rachel over, but when Gretchen told her what she wanted, someone else was already singing it. Gretchen scowled.

  “Hmm . . . what about this one?”

  Rachel shook her head. Apparently that one was gone too.

  With another point of her finger, Gretchen asked, “This one?”

  “You got it. You’ll be number twelve. What about the duet?” Rachel’s eyebrows rose as she looked pointedly at me.

  Dammit. Gretchen looked at me and then whispered something in Rachel’s ear.

  After another nod, Rachel looked at me. “You’ll be number thirteen.”

  Did I have time to leave? “Do you care to clue me in on what I’ll be singing with you?”

  “Nope.” Gretchen giggled, and I knew I was screwed.

  Rachel came back with a lemon-drop shot for Gretchen and a tequila shot for me. Apparently, liquid courage was a must for everyone.

  After suffering through several horrible performances, we finally heard number twelve called.

  Gretchen popped up, kissed me on the cheek, and said, “Wish me luck.”

  She smiled and sauntered to the stage. When whistles and catcalls came from a group of guys at the bar, Gretchen looked at me and winked. Once the music started, the crowd cheered. Apparently there were a lot of Taylor Swift fans in the bar.

  Of course Gretchen would pick “Shake it Off”; it was perfect for her. As soon as she began, the crowd quieted down. Gretchen sounded like an angel—a feisty angel—but nonetheless, she was perfect.

  When she started the chanting part of the song, she pointed to me. All I could do was smile until the song ended and I heard, “Number thirteen.”

  Dammit.

  Gretchen crooked her finger at me. My nerves spiked and sweat rolled down the back of my neck. This wasn’t going to be pretty. According to my eighth-grade chorus teacher, I was tone-deaf. I grimaced when the man handed me the lyrics to a song I’d never heard of.

  “Gretch, I don’t know this.”

  Panic was setting in. The chatter in the bar seemed to stop, and all eyes were on me.

  “Yes, you do. Just follow the lyrics on the prompter. You’ll be fine.” She took the paper from my hand and tossed it on the floor.

  Did she want me to have a heart attack?

  The music started to “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” by Elton John and Kiki Dee. Thankfully, the words lit up in blue when it was my turn to sing, and pink when it was Gretchen’s. Obviously, the song was about not breaking hearts, which wasn’t a problem for me when it came to her.

  Singing, however, was definitely a problem. When I sang, men laughed and women covered their mouths, stifling gig
gles, but not Gretchen. She held my hand, facing me. Apparently, she knew this song by heart.

  Suffice it to say, I had to laugh at myself. I sucked. Shit, I was worse than the “Love Shack” chick.

  Applause broke out when we were done, and I knew exactly why—I had stopped singing. With a bow and a curtsy, we left the stage.

  Before we walked out the door, I stopped and tugged at her hand, turning her around. “I’d never break your heart.” I pulled her close, and our chests pressed against each other with each breath we took.

  “I know. That’s what I adore about you.” She rolled up on her toes just as I leaned down.

  Kissing Gretchen was everything I thought it would be and more. I knew I could get addicted to her. What I also knew was she could definitely break my heart.

  CHAPTER 23

  ~ Gretchen ~

  Laughter filled the car as we headed to our final hotel before going home. Well, I was laughing; Mason was turning every shade of red.

  “You were great,” I told him. “Thank you for singing with me.”

  “There’s not much I wouldn’t do for you, but that was a one-shot deal. Please, for the sake of everyone who has the sense of hearing, don’t make me do that again.”

  My head dropped forward as I swiped tears of laughter from my eyes. I was in full-blown church laugh. You know, that quiet laugh that takes over your entire body? Yes, I’d been hit with it, and I couldn’t stop.

  “I’m glad you’re having a good time over there,” he said.

  There was no denying how adorable Mason was. When I looked at him, he was glaring at me. Not a mean glare, but an I’m going to get you for this look. I’d seen it before.

  “Everyone loved us. Even Rachel sang along.” My words hiccupped out of my mouth. It was hard to talk when I couldn’t breathe.

  Mason had his eyes on the road. “You’ve lost all radio privileges. Your PDJ title, as you call it, has been revoked.”

  We both laughed as he put the channel on Talk Radio.

  “Fine,” I said with a grin. “I guess Howard Stern will accompany us until we get home.”

  We spent our last night on the road lying in each other’s arms, holding each other while we slept.