Free Admit One by Lisa Clark O'Neill Page A

door, and her beast began to groom itself, licking its paw in a causal fashion that suggested it hadn’t been contemplating savaging Mason’s face. Mason eyed it with patent skepticism.
    “Sorry,” she said, nodding toward the cat, who sat comfy as you please beside Mason on the swinging daybed. “He’s a little put out by the dog. I guess he came out here, seeing as how it’s his former home, to comfort himself.”
    “Hmm.” With a final, suspicious glance at the bed’s co-occupant, Mason sat up, causing the chains which held the swing to creak as it gently swayed. “I must have fallen asleep,” he stated the obvious, squinting at the bright sunlight filtering through the surrounding vegetation. It had an almost tangible presence, like fingers of some unseen divinity, pushing aside both limb and leaf to lay bands of gold upon the ground.
    “Fresh air and sunshine,” Sarah said, all but reading his thoughts. She pulled up the small chair tucked into the corner of the equally small porch, her gauzy skirt billowing around her as she sat. “They’ll get you every time.”
    Mason pushed a wayward lock of hair from his eyes and surveyed the woman who would be his best mate’s wife. “And how are you adjusting to the new addition?”
    “He’s… large,” Sarah said, frowning slightly. “And hairy. But then, the same can be said of Tucker, and I like him well enough.”
    Mason laughed, charmed as always. “Meaning that you have fallen completely under the canine’s spell.”
    “I have,” she admitted with a sigh. “And even if I hadn’t, seeing how Tucker feels about him would be enough for me. As I’m sure you know, he never had a dog growing up, and I don’t think he realized how much he’d always wanted one. Thanks for helping him bring him home this morning. With that broken leg, it’ll be a while before he’ll be able to maneuver well on his own.”
    Mason waved a hand. “Think nothing of it.”
    Sarah looked him over, her gaze frankly assessing. “Your eye looks better,” she finally said, “but you’ve still got some dark circles. Are you feeling okay?”
    “Ah…” he really should be used to the direct, open manner of Americans by now, considering the amount of time he’d spent with them. Tucker was probably the most forthright individual he’d ever had the suspect fortune to encounter, and Sarah, while a bit more polite about it, wasn’t exactly one to dither. When a Yank asked you how you were, it seemed they actually expected an answer.
    “Fine,” he said, and knowing that wouldn’t suffice, added: “I’ve simply been up late the past few nights, getting up to speed on my temporary role in the play.”
    She tilted her head, her long copper curls falling over her shoulder. “Nice of you to fill in for Tommy. Much as he’s said otherwise, I think he was relieved to be able to rest up this week. Not to mention that the cast is positively delighted to be working, however temporarily, with an actor of your caliber. Branson was practically glowing when he came in for his coffee today.”
    Mason moved his shoulders, vaguely uncomfortable. He considered these people friends , and didn’t care to have himself placed upon a pedestal.
    “Yes, well,” he murmured. “Always happy to hear I’m responsible for an outbreak of bioluminescence among the populace.”
    Sarah laughed, a deep, rich, throaty sound, and the cat jumped down to rub against his mistress’s ankles.
    “I better get back to work.” She scooped her obese pet off the ground, cradling it against her chest as she stood. “I’ll try to make sure Useless doesn’t bother you again. Get some rest. I’m looking forward to seeing you in action tonight.”
    Mason made some noncommittal noises as Sarah left, then plopped back down on the tumbled pillows. He stared at the beaded board ceiling, watching the blades of the ceiling fan churn the warm, golden air like a paddle in a crock of butter.
    He frowned at that rather