“Yeah.” She pauses and seems to refocus. “Hey, what about Megan’s car?”
“I asked my brother Justice to go with a couple of his friends to pick it up. He plays college football, so I don’t think anyone will give them trouble.”
“That’s probably a good idea, but they better hurry. Hopefully it’s still there…and in one piece.”
“I didn’t think that neighborhood was that bad.”
“There’s bad people everywhere, Mason.”
Her words strike me and I just stare at her a moment. I suppose they’re accurate and possibly come from experience. Once again, I feel the maturity radiating from her, the wisdom, and I can’t help but wonder just exactly what her story is.
I get out of the car and as I round the back, I glance down the street with a sense of panic creeping up my spine. It’s the first time it really hits me that I’m technically breaking the law right now. Not that I’m a saint, but this could go really wrong if this girl is lying about what happened to her. She gets out with her two bags, and I take one from her and lead us up to the front door.
I push it open and step to the side in order for her to enter first. She doesn’t even hesitate like I expected, just walks right into the living area and drops her larger bag next to the couch.
I cringe, seeing her dusty pack hit my clean wood floor, and for the first time I realize my home is going to be disturbed and lived in by someone who’s not used to doing things my way.
She does a three-sixty, taking it in. “Nice place. A little…what’s the word I’m looking for?”
“Plain?”
She turns to me and nods. “That’s it. I mean, it’s great for someone like you.”
I give her a sidelong glance.
“No, I mean, a single guy.” She takes a few steps around as I close the door behind me. “Except…”
“What?”
“You live alone, right?”
I nod.
“But you have family…”
“Yep.” I nod again, trying to be patient, make her feel at ease.
“I don’t see any family pictures.”
It seems odd this would be the first thing she notices. My only guess is that she’d feel safer somehow, knowing I had family, connections. I tick my head up, toward the hallway. “I have some on the hallway wall. Your room’s that way too, if you want to get settled.”
She brightens and it’s the first time I’ve seen a full-on smile. “You have an extra room?” Her teeth are gorgeous and white, and it’s amazing how the expression transforms her from hard-edged to angelic. I stare at her a moment, transfixed by her wide, dark eyes. “Mason?”
I blink and swallow, a little embarrassed by my reaction. “Yeah, sorry. Of course.” I walk past her and point down the hall. “I’ll show you. It’s sort of a second office but it’s got a fold-out couch. And you don’t have to bother opening and closing it each night.” Each night? Thank God this is temporary. I realize we are flying by the seat of our pants here, but the first thing that needs to happen is a plan and that starts with getting all the facts from her.
“Oh, I don’t want to take your office. I can sleep on the couch.”
I stop just outside the door and turn my attention to her. “Trust me, it’s better if you have your own room.” Her brows raise slightly and she appears thoughtful. The learning curve on this situation is going to be awkward. “I mean, we both need our space, and I like to keep the living room clutter-free.”
She seems relieved by my answer. “I get it. Totally.” Then her gaze travels down the wall. “Wow, who are all these hot men?”
I follow her line of sight and a genuine grin takes hold of me. “Men, being the keyword here, so don’t get any ideas.”
“What? I’m just admiring them.”
“These are my half-brothers, Justice and Ryder,” I say, pointing to a shot of them jumping BMX bikes a few years back. It’s images like these that show just how different I was from my three brothers, even Logan, and we share the same mom and dad. “Ryder’s still in high school, a senior. Justice goes to UCLA, but he comes home a lot, especially in the summers.”
“Wow, that’s awesome. This one is so high in the air.”
“That’s Ryder. Our gramps gave him the nickname Rebel Ryder when he was young.”
“That’s cute.” She takes a step farther down. “This guy looks like you.”
“That’s Logan. He’s two years younger than me.”
“So, you’re close then.”
“I suppose. We’ve been through a lot together, and we’ve had to help raise our little brothers. He was in the military for a while, only back home for a few years now.”
She makes a noise like something strikes her to think. “I can hear it in your voice.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. It’s something, though. Like you are responsible for him or something big brotherish. I bet you give him advice all the time.”
“Wow, that’s right.”
We stare at each other, the quiet of my home never more apparent. I jiggle the metal watch on my wrist and bring my arm up, touching the face as I check the time.
“Got somewhere to be?”
“No, sorry. It’s just a dumb habit.” I turn and open the door. “Well, this is it.” I step aside and she walks in. “Why don’t I give you some privacy? I’ll see what there is to eat.”
“Wait.” She turns and takes two steps toward me, stopping just at the doorway. She takes hold of my wrist, her hand around my jacket sleeve.
“Something wrong?”
“No, it’s great. I just…thank you.”
Her nearness is startling and causes my pulse to stutter. I can’t let this girl get starry-eyed over me because I’m helping her. “Ari,” I say with firmness as I pull my wrist from her. “You’re welcome. But after dinner, we’re going to talk. And you’re going to tell me everything I need to know so we can decide what to do.”
Her eyes dart to the side and she steps back. “Yeah, sure, whatever you say, Mason.”
“Good. As long as we’re clear. Just like you said, this isn’t a vacation. This is serious and we could both get in trouble.”
I can see her holding back a smile but she nods and pulls her lips tight. “Of course.” She raises her right hand to shoulder-level like she’s making a pledge. “No screwing around. I’ll behave myself.”
Somehow, I doubt that.
Chapter 7
Mason
“You left her alone in your place?” Logan says as he sits across from me in my office. “What if she rips you off?”
“I know, it doesn’t sound like the smartest move—”
“Especially from you, of all people.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, bro. You are so by the book, you probably wrote it.”
“That’s how you see me? After all we’ve been through? Done?” My brother may have been back home for the last few years, but it’s only been the last several months we’ve spent more time together as he slowly works his way into the business side.
“Geez, man, it’s been years since you and I raised hell. We were cruising bikes instead of cars, for Christ’s sake. As soon as you stepped foot in this office”—he gestures to me—“in that suit…party time was over.”
“Can we get back to the problem at hand?”
“Your problem.” He laughs, leaning forward on his knees.
“She was on our property. You’re taking a more active role in the business, which means more responsibility.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t invite her into my house. She’s probably putting your shit on eBay as we speak.”
“Funny. I could be dead wrong but I really don’t see it.” I tried not to show it, but his suggestion does rattle me. Unfortunately, I didn’t get much more out of Ari when we spoke last night, partly because she kept asking me questions about my brothers, my family. Then she claimed she was tired. Figures. Bu
t she stuck to her story about the abusive foster parents and that she turns eighteen in three weeks. She doesn’t have much of a plan other than in the meantime, she’ll try to track down this cousin she mentioned. “She seems like a good kid.”
“Hope you’re right. But…from what you said, she sure doesn’t sound like a kid to me.”
He gives me a sidelong glance and I turn my head to stare out the window. The wind has picked up, blowing wispy clouds over the blue sky. Soon spring will hand over the reins to summer and we’ll all be sweating. Unlike now, with Logan’s scrutiny causing my temperature to rise. “That’s not what I need to hear right now, either.” I lean onto my right elbow, which is resting on the arm of my chair. I eye my phone on the desk, tempted to check my messages or at least the time. Time is always an issue for me but knowing Ari is at my house alone, the minutes until I’m back there seem to be haunting me. And no, it’s not because I don’t trust her.
“So, what did you want to talk about?”
He’s going to kill me. I hesitate and rub my jaw.
“What? What are you not saying, bro?”
“I need you to do something for me.”
“I didn’t come here to babysit.”
“It’s not that…exactly.”
He runs his fingers through his hair. “What exactly?”
“I want to keep her busy…and give her a way to earn some money.”
“So?”
“Can you pick her up and take her over to the Brookhurst place?”
He stands abruptly, ready to protest.
“She can paint. You saw it yourself.”
“It’s not the same and you know it.”
“I let Ray’s nephew paint last summer. It’s easy work and she’s got a skill. Hell, it’s beneath her but at least it will keep her out of trouble.”
“She have a work permit?”
I just shake my head, knowing he understands.
“Wow, this girl—and let me repeat, girl—really has you turned upside down.”
“I’m only trying to help her and it’s temporary.”
“Just don’t screw us over a charity case.”
“I won’t. I was going to have you take over Brookhurst anyway. I emailed you the files right before you got here.”
He shoots me a sideways glance. “Convenient. And what about your lofty aspirations to start flipping houses?”
“Nothing’s changed there, little brother. I’m going to talk to Dad again this week.”
“Yeah, but what about the boss?”
“You’re a fucking comedian, you know that? Megan has nothing to do with this. Actually, I think we’re going to cool it for a while.” Though, in my mind, things are more final than that.
“Shit, you serious?” He jams his hands into his jeans pockets and opens his mouth to speak. When nothing comes out, I can’t help but guess where his mind is.
“It’s nothing to do with this girl. It all fell apart the other night when you and Mollie were over. Like you said, we have different priorities.”
A slow, easy grin forms and he nods. “You see, the student becomes the master.”
“Well, sensei, don’t go buy your robe just yet. You had it backwards.”
His mouth falls open. “What?”
“She’s nowhere near thinking about marriage. But apparently, you’ve jumpstarted my brain in that direction. To be honest, ever since I let you in my head, everything’s been all screwed up, so thanks for that.”
“Hey, man, any time.” He chuckles before walking to the door. “When do I gotta start babysitting duties?”
“It’s not babysitting…and this afternoon. Just go by there in an hour or so, take her to Ray, hang out some until she gets settled, and then check things out while you’re there. Shouldn’t be any issues. I’ll call Ray, give him a heads up.”
“Guess you’re the boss, right?”
I tick my head to the side. “For now, bro. You might just be on your way in, but you know this business and I want us to be partners.” I fold my arms behind my head and lean back. “I’ve got plans for us.”
His face melds into that casual grin I remember growing up. The one that showed things rarely fazed him. It’s a comfort to see that guy again. “Sure, Mase. We’ll play it your way.” He opens the door but as usual, he can’t resist a comment on the way out. “Don’t forget to count the silverware when you get home.”
I shake my head with a smirk, but it fades as soon as the door clicks closed. Ari wouldn’t steal from me. Who am I kidding? She could cut my throat as I sleep for all I know. Then again, she did save Megan. Something else that’s crazy to think about.
I pick my phone up from the desk and note no texts or missed calls from Megan. I’d been so wrapped up in this Ari thing I hadn’t noticed that Megan left for the desert without a word. Though my emotions are mixed, I know the right thing to do; I shoot her a quick text.
Me: Just thinking about you and wanted to say good luck with the meeting. Knowing you, it will be a success.
I hesitate before hitting send. I don’t want to give her some sort of false hope but at the same time, you don’t just write someone off like that. I tap send and stare at the screen a few moments to see if she answers right back. Then I laugh at myself because when has Megan ever been quick to reply. I start to put my phone down but a nagging impulse has me pulling it back into view. I know Logan is wrong about Ari, but that doesn’t mean I’m not worried about her. She seemed fine when I left—pretending to clean my already spotless kitchen—but I still have a feeling I need to check on her. We exchanged numbers before I left, so I tap to dial her, my heartbeat strangely upticking. After four rings, the call goes to a generic voicemail, so I hang up.
I set the phone down, open my laptop, and enter my password. Shit! I close it abruptly and stand. “This is ridiculous,” I say out loud to myself. I shake my left hand next to my leg until my watch slides out from my coat sleeve and then I bend my arm, bringing it into view. Of course, I already know the damn time, but I tap on the face while I decide what to do. Ten seconds later I’m out the door and heading home.
* * *
I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised to find my place empty. I know I don’t need to take inventory; her stuff—what little she had—is still in her room. If this is what being a parent of a teenager is like, I think I’ll pass. When I was helping with my brothers, they were younger and mostly I just had to entertain them, although the last few years with Justice had a few teenage dramas. But this? I don’t know if I’m more annoyed or worried.
As I pass back through the living room, intending to leave, something catches my eye in the kitchen. I do a double take, stopping in my tracks. I turn toward the back wall and stare until I convince myself what I’m seeing isn’t actually there. I walk around the bar counter and touch two fingers to the wall. “Where did she even get the paint?” I ask no one as I examine the mural of wildflowers she painted on my wall, without my permission. It’s not that the work isn’t phenomenal. She’s talented. But doing whatever you want without considering other people’s feelings is unacceptable.
I get back in the car and drive who the hell knows where. Maybe she was hungry or needed something from the drugstore, so I head to the nearby shopping center. After checking the obvious places, I return to my car and stare at my phone as if it holds the answers. I try sending a text this time, but I have to be careful how I word it.
Me: How are you doing? Need anything?
I pull out of the lot and drive around the streets. Does she have a regular spot? Friends on the street? I realize I have little info to go on. After about ten minutes, my cell pings. I pull into the first parking lot I come to and snatch up my phone.
Ari: Fine, thanks. Just reading one of the books from your bookcase. Hope that’s okay.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I briefly consider going back home to see if she’s really there. Could she have gotten back to the house right after I left? I ru
n my hand through my hair as my frustration surges. I take a few deep breaths and remind myself this is temporary. I loosen my tie and unbutton the top of my dress shirt as I eye the parking lot I’m in. To my left is a hole-in-the-wall bar that is literally called Bar. At least that’s what the sign reads.
I’m not a day drinker unless I’m at a business lunch and yet I crank the wheel and head straight for it. I just need to get my bearings and think this thing through. Going from the bright sunlight to the dim setting of the bar has me stalled at the door, waiting for my eyes to adjust and resolve to set in. There’s low music playing, and I can hear the crack of billiards toward the back.
I take a seat at the end of the bar, hoping to keep my distance from any locals or even someone who might recognize me in here. “Makers Mark neat,” I tell the bartender when she sidles over to me.
“You got it, babe,” she says, putting a napkin in front of me. “Start a tab?”
I scoff internally. The day I start a tab at a dive bar in the middle of the day is the day I kill myself. “No, just the one.” I pull a twenty out and place it on the bar.
She’s back with my drink in less than a minute, which is no great feat considering there’s only two others sitting at the bar—a woman on a laptop and a middle-aged man, whose back is to me. He appears to be watching the pool players who have gotten louder since I entered.
I tap my phone as it sits on the bar in front of me. After two swallows of my bourbon, I feel calmer. I decide I won’t call Ari out. Not this time. She’s almost an adult and she’s been taking care of herself for who knows how long. It’s not like I specifically asked her to stick around the house. Then why the hell did I get so pissed? The girl has just sent everything spinning into chaos, and it’s not the world I’m used to living in.
The middle-aged guy at the bar turns back around and shakes his head. “I could stare at that ass all day.”
I can’t see what he’s looking at, but I’m not interested in sharing experiences with the likes of him. I decide I’ve had enough of the day-drinking scene and down the rest of my glass. I pick up part of my change and leave the rest for a tip.
Broken Bridges (Bridges Brothers Book 2) Page 5