Nothing prepared me for the sight waiting for me in the kitchen the next morning.
Mason was standing by the counter already dressed for work with one hand inside his pocket while drinking from the mug I gifted him yesterday.
Seeing him use it did something stupid to my chest, and a small smile made its way to my face.
“Good morning,” I greeted.
He glanced up at me. “Morning.”
Trying not to give away the state of my mind, I moved toward the counter to make tea for myself. The second I reached for the sugar container, Mason snorted behind me.
I turned toward him. “Not everybody enjoys punishing their taste buds the way you do. That thing looks bitter enough to ruin somebody’s morning.”
His mouth twitched. “Who says my coffee is bitter?”
I pointed at the mug. “The color alone gives it
