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Chapter 22

At about a quarter to one, Mason set down the beer he had been nursing and began to wind his way through the crowd. Cutting through the house, he went directly to the shed. He stood in the shade of the building, watching the flow of people and listening to the too-loud mariachi band. He tried to be casual, though every muscle in his body was tense, every nerve ending electrified.

Every time someone glanced in his direction, his heart pounded. They knew. The dark, irrational part of his brain was convinced people could read his secret in his skin, and Pedra would be flouncing over any moment to tell him Anton wasn’t going anywhere with him. He saw her once, laughing with a couple of older women. He tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help but wonder how someone could be so oblivious about the man she professed to love.