Her Sweetest Fortune. Stella Bagwell

Sophie. I just now saw the light and wondered if it was you,” he confessed.

      Her lower lip thrust forward in a playful pout. “And you weren’t going to stop by and see me? Shame on you. I expected to see you today.”

      So she could brag about her date with Thom, he thought sickly. “Well, I’ve been very busy today. I’m still doing last-minute tests on the sports app. And then there’s a new project.”

      “You’re so incredibly smart, Mason. I doubt you ever worry about the work you produce. In fact, I’ve heard Wes bragging on you before. You’re one of his favorites,” she added, then gave him a coy wink. “But don’t let him know I told you so.”

      At least there was one Fortune Robinson who appreciated him, Mason thought dryly.

      “I wouldn’t think of repeating that little tidbit,” he assured her.

      For some reason he felt compelled at the moment to grab the bull by the horn, as the saying went. Raking a hand through his hair, he asked her, “Uh, seeing as how you’re leaving, too, would you like to grab a cup of coffee?”

      For one split second she appeared surprised by his invitation and then a bright smile lifted the corners of her lips. “Sure. I’d love a cup.”

      Feeling as though the floor beneath his feet had just turned to air, he reached for the coat she was carrying. “Better let me help you with this,” he said. “I hear there’s bad weather coming tonight.”

      Standing behind her, he held the coat so that she could slip her arms into it and Mason was immediately struck by her petite stature and the grace with which she moved. As always, she smelled like a cloud of sunny flowers and he longed to drop his face to the crown of her hair and draw in the subtle scent.

      “Thanks,” she told him as she buttoned the coat and wrapped a dark purple scarf around her neck. “I hate being cold. I’ll be happy when three-digit temperatures get here.”

      He chuckled. “Don’t worry. Summer will be here before you can say the rat ran over the cheese barrel.”

      She shot him a quizzical look. “‘The rat ran over the cheese barrel.’ Where did you get that phrase?”

      He grinned. “I made it up.”

      She laughed then, and looped her arm through his. “You’re so funny, Mason. Thank you for making me laugh.”

      Funny. How was he supposed to get any kind of serious swagger going when Sophie viewed him as some sort of standup comedian?

      He didn’t know, but he had to get his new and improved Mason going soon or Thom Nichols was going to snare this sweet Fortune on his arm.