The Bad Boy's Woman (Hidden Masks Book 2)

by Nia Arthurs

  Angie grinned and walked off. “Then I’ll get you that job. Report to Pizza Joe’s tomorrow. I’ll take care of everything else.”

  26

  WE MEET AGAIN

  Monique

  “HUGHES!” The manager tapped me on the shoulder. “I’ll need you to show the New Guy around this evening, alright? Teach him the ropes. I’ll hold you personally responsible if he does anything stupid.”

  “Yes, sir.” I smoothed my hands over my apron.

  “Good.”

  The bathroom door creaked open and a tall guy stepped out.

  My eyes caught on a familiar face.

  My jaw dropped.

  Was that James?

  No, it couldn’t be. What would James be doing back here? Why would he ever wear that apron or that stupid hat?

  “This is Monique,” the manager introduced. “This is James Sawyer. Get to work.”

  As the manager walked off, I struggled to collect myself. It had been almost a month since my break up with James. The last time I saw him, he was making out with an evil cheerleader to my face.

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed.

  He smirked. “Working. Same as you.”

  “This isn’t funny.” I folded my arms over my chest. “You should leave. I have no intentions of getting back together with you.”

  He didn’t even flinch. “I know. That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Monique!” The manager poked his head back into the room. “Get out there! We have customers!”

  I scoffed and grabbed my notebook. “Just stay out of my way, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As I worked, I watched James from the corner of my eye. He strode smoothly toward a table filled with girls. They all fawned over him and answered in high-pitched voices, lavishing him with questions.

  He responded to them smoothly.

  I seethed. Who gave James the right to make that stupid pizza hat look cool?

  And was he really here for reasons other than our breakup?

  What did that mean? His parents were extremely wealthy. James had never worked a day in his life nor would he need to. It didn’t make sense.

  James took the ticket to the kitchen and served the drinks. I’d been feeling a little guilty about throwing him off the deep end, but he seemed to have a knack for waiting tables.

  I bet he’ll make a killing in tips.

  A scowl climbed my face.

  I tried to ignore him, but it was hard to do when we kept brushing against each other on the way to the kitchen. Our eyes would meet every so often and my stomach would do a familiar little flip. My body still hadn’t detoxed from James Sawyer.

  By the end of my shift, I was exhausted.

  I played with the idea of quitting my job.

  “For what?” Angie shrieked the next day as we sat around the courtyard table for lunch. “What did you do wrong? Why do you have to quit?”

  Harley’s blue eyes were icy cold. “I’m with you, Monique. I think you should leave.”

  “Exactly.”

  “No way!” Angie fluttered her hands as she spoke. “A breakup isn’t the end of the world. So you and James didn’t finish on a good note. Now you’re co-workers. It’s just professional.”

  I played with my straw. “That’s true but…”

  “There is no ‘but’. Just stay. What’s the harm?”

  The harm was that I’d fall for him again. And as the days progressed, I realized the threat my feelings presented was real. James was not just a co-worker and the way my heart raced around him was not platonic.

  Everything about him drew my attention. And the fact that he kept his word and didn’t try to flirt with me or chase me during working hours made me curious. Why was he so focused? Why did it feel like he was taking this job seriously?

  Like he… needed it.

  Most nights, I went to sleep thinking about the mystery and I thought of it when I woke up too. Weirdly, I hadn’t been this obsessive when we were dating, but now that we weren’t, I was more curious about James Sawyer than ever before.

  The week flew by.

  On Friday, I headed to work and slipped my purse over my head. James’s car was in the parking lot of Pizza Joe’s, but I didn’t see him in the main hall or behind the cashier counter.

  I headed to the break room and found James tearing out of his shirt. It was my first time seeing him shirtless and as my eyes roved the length of sinewy pale flesh, my heart quickened.

  Run, Monique. Run!

  I skittered back and my heel knocked against the door. James spun and our eyes locked. The thudding in my chest turned into a full-blown heart attack.

  “I’m sorry.” I mumbled, stupidly bumping into the door again. I hissed in pain and held a hand to my head, struggling to find some dignity where there was none. “I’m okay. I’m… just finish. Sorry.”

  I stumbled out and groaned.

  How embarrassing.

  Why was it so easy to get distracted by James when I knew he was no good? If I had any sense at all, I’d storm into the manager’s office, fling my hat at him and walk out.

  But I didn’t.

  And James kept unnerving me without trying to. Everywhere I turned, he was just… there. I didn’t know if he was positioning himself to be in my line of sight or if my body naturally gravitated to him, but it was far too distracting.

  While James rose to the challenge of the waitressing job and seemed unflustered, I kept making rookie mistakes—mixing up orders, returning the wrong change.

  I was about ready to tear my hair out.

  Or hand in my resignation.

  “Good work today, Monique,” Sara, the cashier, said as I stretched and headed to the kitchen.

  “I’m glad it’s almost over. I’m exhausted.”

  “A bunch of us are meeting up at a club later tonight.” She glanced up and eyed James. “Do you think the New Guy would come?”

  I glanced at him too. His black hair bounced against his forehead as he leaned over and used his long arms to wipe the table. Jealousy at the thought of James with Sara and her friends swiftly filled me.

  “I don’t think he’d be into that.”

  Sara frowned. “Too bad.”

  Why’d you go and say that Monique? You have no idea what James would be into anymore.

  I berated myself until closing.

  Just before we turned the sign on the door, we got one more customer.

  Natasha Sawyer strode in wearing a cloud of expensive perfume, a thick coat, jeans, and killer heels. I floated to her table, happy to see her even if I wasn’t dating her son anymore.

  “Natasha!” I set her menu down and grinned. “Are you here to see James?”

  “Yes.” She slipped her sunglasses off.

  “I’ll get him for you.”

  Her pale hand snatched my wrist. “Wait. I think it might be best if you didn’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because James is a little upset right now. Well, a lot upset. His father kicked him out and I wasn’t allowed to contact him or give him any help until now.”

  My head whipped up. “James moved out? When?”

  “Around the beginning of the month?” Natasha fluttered her thin eyelashes. “Didn’t you know?”

  I shook my head.

  “There was a little misunderstanding, but I’m here to resolve it.”

  “What misunderstanding?” A deep voice rumbled behind me.

  I jumped and turned. James stood by my side, his eyes boring into his mother. The way his jaw clenched told me that Natasha had only given one side of the story.

  Natasha shot to her feet. “James.”

  “You shouldn’t have come, Mom.”

  “Stop this nonsense and return home. You think living in a motel and slaving away at this low rate restaurant is any way to live?”

  “It’s better than being in that house.”

  “Honey…” Natasha reached out, but her fingers shriveled at
James’s cold look. She turned to me, pleading. “Monique, would you tell him to stop throwing a tantrum? This has been going on for far too long.”

  James grabbed my hand.

  I gasped in surprise.

  “Please leave, ma’am. The kitchen is closed.” He tugged me along.

  I was so shocked, I stupidly stumbled behind him.

  Natasha spoke in a low voice. “I did what I had to. I protected our family. Why are you punishing me for making that choice?”

  James pretended he hadn’t heard and dragged me all the way to the break room. Once there, I wrenched my arm free and whirled on him. “What was Natasha talking about? Did you run away from home?”

  He glared into the distance.

  “James!”

  “My mother was behind Pandora’s fire.”

  “What?”

  James rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I found out the day we broke up. She didn’t deny it. I realized I couldn’t live there anymore so I left.”

  “Are you really living in a motel? Is that why you took this job?”

  He shrugged.

  I spun slowly. My mind churned, struggling to wrap around the truth. James found out his mother was an arsonist the day we broke up. His broken, pale face that day returned to mind. No wonder he’d been so out of it. His life had just taken a huge turn.

  And I didn’t know.

  “It’s fine though.” He lifted his chin. “Living on my own comes with benefits. At least I don’t have to hear them fighting anymore.”

  My heart panged.

  James shifted in discomfort. “I should head back out there. Help clean up.”

  “Okay.” I said absently. “I-I’ll be out in a minute.”

  I couldn’t imagine Natasha Sawyer intentionally trying to hurt another human being. And what would have happened if James hadn’t saved Lauren? She had nothing to do with the Sawyers.

  My eyes whipped to the door. James swept the parlor. The muscles in his arms flexed as he moved the broom over the floor. Regret stole the breath from my lungs. He must have been suffering on his own until now.

  I walked outside and offered my hand.

  He stared at it. “Do you need something?”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Forget it.” James stared at the floor and kept sweeping.

  I stepped out of his way. “Where are you staying?”

  “Why?”

  “Hurry up and tell me.”

  He did.

  The next day, I cooked breakfast and brought it over. James’s shiny car looked grossly out of place in front of the rundown motel. I knocked on his door and stepped back when it swung open.

  James stood in the doorway, dressed in a white T-shirt. His hair was messy and his jaw cracked with a yawn. “Monique?”

  “Hey. Can I come in?”

  James shot a worried glance behind him. “I didn’t have a chance to clean up.”

  “It’s fine.” I wiggled past him and gazed around. The room looked as shady as the motel did—it was cramped, smelly and old. “Does the bathroom work in here?”

  “Everything works.” James stooped to pick up his clothes from the floor. I saw his guitars leaning against the wall. “What’s that?” He nodded to my lunch bag.

  I set it on the table. “I brought food.”

  “Monique…”

  “What?” I lifted my chin. “Are you going to kick me out because of a meal?”

  “I don’t need your pity.”

  “This isn’t pity.”

  “Then what is it?” His deep eyes pierced me. “What are we?”

  I slid the lunchbox over. “Friends.”

  “Friends?”

  “Yeah, you ever heard of it?”

  “I can’t be friends with you, Monique.”

  “Too bad. Last year, when I was going through a rough time, you helped me out. Whether your intentions were pure or not, I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “Still…”

  “Eat.” I slapped the table. “And call me if you need anything.”

  “I didn’t agree to being your friend.”

  “Like I said,” I stepped toward the door, “that’s too bad.”

  The next few weeks, I made James’s meals and stopped by his room often. We never did anything. We just… talked. At first, James seemed like he wanted to keep his distance, but I was determined to engage him. Eventually, hanging out with James after work became a part of my day.

  I realized I was falling in love with my ex all over again, but I stuffed my feelings deep down. We still had a lot to work through, both as individuals and as a couple.

  James didn’t need my love right now.

  And until he did, I’d give him my friendship.

  27

  UNOFFICIALLY BACK TOGETHER

  James

  SUNDAY AFTERNOON, I heard a knock on my door. Excitement zipped through me. I shot off the bed and opened the door. A smile unfurled when I saw Monique standing on the other side. She wore a brilliant smile and a yellow dress.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “Angie asked me to attend her dad’s church.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t expect you to feed me everyday.”

  “I want to.” She handed me a plastic bag filled with a heady fragrance. “Mom made roast chicken.” My drab room brightened as Monique stepped into it. It was more than that yellow dress, it was… everything about her. She filled me with warmth whenever she was near.

  Not that I would express that. Monique seemed intent on drawing the line at friends and I wasn’t going to step over it again.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” She slid her purse off her shoulder and dragged the chair in front of the cheap foldable table over to the bed. “If you plan on staying here long term, you really should invest in a fridge.”

  “I don’t want to stay here long term,” I said, removing the lid from the first container. “I want an apartment, but that means signing a lease and most building owners don’t want to sign with a sixteen year old.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. “Well, can’t you apply for emancipation or something?”

  “Emancipation?”

  “Yeah. Lend me your laptop. I’ll show you.” While I ate, Monique researched. “You just need to serve your parents with papers.”

  “I’m not going to do that. Dad won’t allow anything that will hurt his reputation. How do I tell the judge my dad is an abusive prick without making him angry enough to kill Mom?”

  Monique scrolled down. “It says here that the only way to avoid going to court is if you’re married.”

  “Marriage?” I shot Monique a look.

  She looked equally nervous. “Well, it’s just an option. But I think you need to do something quickly. Living in a motel until you’re eighteen isn’t the best choice.”

  “Marriage, huh?” I mumbled.

  Finding a wife, having a wedding, it was never in the cards for me. Until I met Monique. She had a way of changing things, shifting them so going back to ‘normal’ didn’t feel like an option. When it came to marriage, it was Monique or nothing.

  I set my plate down and stared at her.

  She noticed and fluttered her eyelashes. “What are you doing? You’re not going to propose now, are you?”

  “I want to apologize.”

  Her brows shot up. “For what?”

  “For what I did at the party, for hurting you with those pictures.” I nodded to the food she brought. “This past month should have felt like torture, but it didn’t because I knew you were in my corner, cheering me on. You made me want to be a better person, but I lost that resolve when I lost you. I’m sorry.”

  She kept a straight face.

  Silence filled the room.

  I thought she was going to brush me off but she said, “Do you still have the pictures?”

  “Deleted.”

  “What about Marissa?”

  I almost groaned in frustration. �
�Blocked. Along with all her little minions.” I thought of Red Head. “I’m in over my head as it is. I don’t need their drama.”

  “I see.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck and stood, suddenly feeling flustered. “Are you thirsty? I’ll buy us a couple sodas from the vending machine.”

  Monique’s footsteps thudded behind me. A moment later, her arms slid around my waist and her face pressed into my back. I froze, my hands hovering in the air, not quite sure what to do.

  “I forgive you,” she whispered. I eased out of her arms and turned so I could look at her. Brown eyes glistening, she smiled. “I accept your apology.”

  It didn’t feel deserved. I looked away. “Why do you put up with me? I made so many mistakes. And I can’t give you the things I used to. I mean, look around. I’m in a motel. I’m struggling to pay the bills, so why…?”

  “Because I love you.” Her eyelashes swept down, hiding her eyes from view. “I just do.”

  Those words sent a wave of panic through me. “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true.” Her gaze met mine. “It’s okay if you never tell me back because I’m not like your mother. And you’re not like your father.” She reached out and held my hand. “Love isn’t about getting hurt and hurting. It’s about sacrifice, commitment, honor, and integrity. And that responsibility you feel now that I’ve said those words is why I trust you, James. I trust you.”

  I bent down and hugged her, pulling her into me so I didn’t know where Monique began and I ended. I rocked her, burying my face in her neck and raking my fingers through her hair.

  I love you.

  But the words refused to leave my lips. I was afraid. Afraid the moment I said them, they would lose all meaning. That love would become a pat excuse to fling around when I made a mistake or did something stupid.

  So I just embraced Monique, grateful, humbled, and silently promising that I would never abuse that trust.

  ON MONDAY, I met with Alex. We’d talked a few times since I asked to be updated on the investigation, but I tried not to see him too often.

  “How are you, man?” Alex studied my face. “You look like crap.”

  And you’re the reason I’m still relying on sleeping pills. “There’s a lot going on.”

  “I heard you and Monique were through.”