Before I reach the door, the noise in the back stops me short. The bursts of laughter now sound confrontational and among the voices, I hear a spicy accent that sounds familiar flinging insults.
“Apártate, you piece of shit.”
Taking two steps to my right, I have a full view of the scene—Ari in short shorts and a shirt that slides off one shoulder, holding a pool stick in a defensive stance and two guys with shit-eating grins facing off with her. Asshole number one, whose got a flannel shirt tied around his waist, backs away when she fake-swings the cue and he sits on a stool. He grabs his beer while asshole number two, a redhead with a crop of messy hair under his bottom lip, grabs the pool stick with one hand and Ari’s ass with the other.
I know no part of this is going to end well as I stride back toward them, fury burning my chest. “Get your hands off her,” I shout on my way, hoping to distract them from her.
Ari turns toward me, her annoyance shifting to complete shock when she sees me. No shit. She shakes her head at me frantically, then tries to back away from asshole number two.
“Who’s this? Your daddy?” red beard says.
She lets go of the stick they are both holding, but he slips his arm around her waist. “Don’t go just yet, sweetheart.”
Asshole number one stands from his stool, blocking me. “Fuck off and mind your own business, man.” He’s so drunk that one push has him tripping over his own feet.
I step over him and without a second thought, my fist connects with that red beard, cracking against his jaw and conveniently separating him from Ari, who stumbles to the side. “She’s seventeen, dipshit,” I say.
“Mason, no!”
“What the hell, bitch?” he says, holding his jaw and moving it side to side.
Ari rushes back to him, putting a barrier between us. “Look, Darren,” she says with a half-smile that’s obviously feigned. “I’m sorry. We’re just going to go.” She glances quickly in my direction with a murderous glare like this is somehow all my fault.
Stroking his beard, Darren glares at me with nostrils flared and slits for eyes.
I hadn’t really thought this through but it’s too late now.
“Screw that, little girl,” Darren says, moving Ari to the side. “This guy needs to pay.”
I haven’t been in a fist fight since high school and every one of those times was Logan’s fault. What the hell was I thinking starting this crap with these losers? It’s been twenty-four hours and Ari has already sent my world into a tailspin. Besides a fleeting thought to bribe the guy with money—which would get my ass kicked by my own brothers if they knew—I decide I’m out of options. So, I step back, flick my coat off my shoulders, and toss it to the side.
“You two assholes think you’re going to fight in here, think again.”
I turn and find the bartender—who I’m now guessing is not just the bartender—standing there with a bat in one hand and what looks like a taser in the other. “Darren’s an asshole for sure. But this little girl right here showed ID. Checked it myself and it doesn’t look fake.”
All I can do is look at Ari in confusion. I don’t know what would be worse: her having and using a damn good fake ID or that she lied and really isn’t seventeen. “What the hell’s going on, Ari?”
She steps around Darren, shooting him a dirty look, and comes next to me. “I’m twenty-two.”
“See, man!”
Damn. I glare at Ari but the more pressing issue is dealing with Darren. “She might not be seventeen, but you still deserved what you got.”
“Yeah, ever heard of no means no?” Ari chimes in.
“How about you all just get the hell out of my bar before I call the cops?”
I nod and grab my coat, not even looking at Ari. “I apologize for the trouble,” I say on my way to the door. As soon as the door closes, I speed-walk to my car, the embarrassment from moments ago filtering through me and churning into simmering anger.
Ari runs to catch up to me. “Mason, wait. I’m sorry. I can explain.”
I stop and stare down into her dark eyes. “I hope you can. But honestly, Ari, I’m not sure there’s anything you can say that won’t make me want to leave you right here in this parking lot and never look back.”
Chapter 8
Ari
Geez, this guy is uptight. So his coat got a little rumpled and he had to throw a punch. Shit, I just did the same thing for his little girlfriend. It probably did him some good.
“What do you want from me?” I ask as we both stand our ground outside his car.
“The truth would be nice. For a change.” I know it’s not the time but I can’t help but notice how sexy he looks with that scowl on his face. It’s the first time I’ve seen it.
“What does my age matter anyway?” I’ve been taking care of myself since I was sixteen, so I already feel more adult than I should.
He breaks eye contact and looks over my shoulder while running his hand over the top of his short brown hair. “Besides the fact that it actually changes everything? Maybe if I’d known the truth, I wouldn’t have decked that guy.”
“Really? So, you’d have let him grope my ass?”
His gaze returns to mine and I see a hint of a smile peeking beneath the surface. “I don’t know…maybe.”
As he stares down at me, I take his appearance in: hair much more ruffled than I’ve seen before, tie loose and shirt wrinkled, and I have to say it suits him better than his more put-together self.
“Right. Well, what are you going to do?”
He lifts his arm and stares at his watch and I feel even more guilty, realizing he’s supposed to be at work. “I don’t know…” He runs his hand down the side of his neck and then huffs out a sigh.
I notice some blood on his knuckles and my heart skips a beat. Yes, it’s guilt but it also takes me back to the look in his eyes right before he hit that guy. Sure, he thought I was underage but the protectiveness I saw there felt…incredible. I take his hand in both of mine to examine it. “You’re hurt… I’m sorry.” I look up into his eyes and he almost seems sad. I think I much prefer the anger.
He pulls his hand away and takes a step back, looking up to the sky. Instinctively, I step forward, drawn to him. I want to comfort him even though he doesn’t seem to want that. He might be wavering, though, because he doesn’t move. I can’t help but feel the guilt of it all settling in the pit of my stomach, and I know the right thing to do as much as it pains me.
“My stuff is at your house. Can you at least take me to get it?”
He gives me a side glance. “Get in.”
We sit in silence as he pulls out of the lot, and I rehearse all the different ways I could apologize again. Did I even apologize yet? Not really for all of it, but the longer the silence stretches on, the more I can’t get the words out. Maybe it’s better he see me as an ungrateful bitch. It will make it easier for him to kick me out. Easier for me to go. As nice as his place is, I don’t belong there, disturbing his perfectly organized life and wreaking havoc on it.
While my mind scrambled to come up with a plan, I must have missed where he was heading because I feel the shift of the car as we pull into another lot. I look up and see a quaint little café with an awning-covered patio.
He pulls the car into a space, turns the ignition off, and then turns to face me. “It’s your choice. We can go in there and you can tell me everything I want to know. The entire truth…or I can take you back to my place so you can grab your stuff and go.”
Of course, my first instinct is to tell him to kiss my ass because I don’t do ultimatums. And I don’t fall for any alpha male bullshit. I’ve had enough for a lifetime. But at the same time, what other option do I have? He does have a right to be angry. Maybe I do owe him the truth. I look out the front window to gain my courage. Courage to suck it up and grovel. Just get through it. In a few more weeks, I could leave this city and start over. Take charge of my life. But for now…
“Ari?”
“Yeah, I know. I’m—” I feel unexpected tears spring to my eyes and I fight them off, turning my head away.
“Hey…” His hand on mine startles me and I meet his gaze. “You know, I wanted to help you before and I still do, but I think I deserve to know what’s going on. Don’t you?”
I blink slowly as I place my other hand over his. His touch is comforting, melting my anger and frustration. I nod once slowly and then I get out of the car.
We grab a table outside and a waitress comes immediately. I order a tea, Mason coffee.
“This place is cute.” The positive comment stings because I know we are here for one reason only.
“It’s one of my favorites.”
“Really?”
“Why?”
“Just doesn’t seem like you.”
“Apparently we don’t know each other very well.”
I can tell by the sparkle in his eyes that his comment was playful.
The waitress sets down our drinks without a word and I notice he waits until I pick mine up first. I guess we don’t know each other but the more I see, the more I want to know. “True. So, what do you want to know?”
“Let’s start with an easy one. Why did you say you were seventeen? And pregnant for that matter.”
The din of chatter and silverware clanking on plates falls away as I prepare to lay it all out. “Look, you were a stranger to me. A girl can’t be too careful, especially in my situation. Like I told you, a pregnant teen keeps the pervs away. Plus, people want to help you more, you know?” I shrug but he doesn’t seem to appreciate my reasoning. “I mean, you did.”
“Funny,” he says sarcastically. “There’s a flaw in your theory.”
“What’s that?”
“You went home with me. You obviously felt safe with me.” His second statement held a hint of question to which I raise an eyebrow and tilt my head. “Really? Thanks,” he says with a hint of hurt in his tone.
I reach across and touch his arm, obviously proving his point and not mine. “Actually, you’re right. I did feel safe with you. And I also felt embarrassed to be in my situation. At that point, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you my real age. And I guess I thought you might…”
“Change my mind and not help you?”
I lower my eyes and nod, ashamed of the truth. “It’s just, I’m not very trusting in general, but I know I can trust you. Especially after today.” I smile, but he pulls his arm away as he rests back in his chair. The rejection pains me but I understand.
“You should have told me.”
“I’m sorry, Mason. I won’t make that mistake again.” I pause and tilt my head. “So, how old are you?”
“Thirty-three. And we’re not done with you so that was your last question.”
“For now.”
He reins in his smile and turns serious. “What else did you lie about?”
“Everything I told you was the truth. It’s just that it all happened about six years ago. My mother did die when I was in high school. I lived in a couple different foster homes until I took off. I was almost eighteen, so my best friend Kristina convinced her mom to let me stay with them for a while. A while turned into a couple years. Kiki and I planned to get our own place as soon as we could afford it, but she got knocked up and moved in with her baby daddy around the same time I met Alex.”
“Alex?” I could be seeing what I want but he leans forward, anxiously, and waits for my reply.
“He was a nice guy at first. Things were fine, and the best part was he supported my art and bought me a lot of supplies. But then he got into blow and there was no money left for anything, including food.”
“That’s rough. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah well, trouble seems to home in on me.”
“I’m starting to figure that out. I’m guessing that’s when it all went wrong?”
“Alex developed a temper, mostly yelling and throwing things, which I can handle. I mean I gave as good as I got and—”
“Ari, no. I hope you’re not thinking…”
“Trust me. I know he’s an asshole. But it sort of crept up on me. Until… Well, my mamá always told me that a man who hits his woman is not a man, and if anyone ever laid a hand on me that better be the last time they ever saw my face. I listened. But when I went to pack, he got even madder and started tossing all my stuff around the room. He said he paid for everything, so I couldn’t take any of it. Then he dragged me out the door with barely anything to my name. I left behind a couple of boxes of personal things, pictures of my mamacita, some gold coins she gave me for emergency. And my paints…”
“Why not call the cops? He hit you, right?”
“It’s complicated. We had some domestic disturbance calls. Sometimes the neighbors heard me yelling. I guess I can be loud sometimes.” I shrug, hoping I’m not painting this horrible picture of myself that makes Mason run for the hills.
Instead he looks angry. “It doesn’t matter. He should be in jail. In fact, why don’t you give me his information and—”
“Whoa, cowboy. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Let me finish.”
He sighs and nods. I notice he hasn’t taken another sip of his coffee. We both know he doesn’t need caffeine right now.
“Alex’s cousin, Sergio, he’s a cop. They’re best friends. He’s covered for Alex before, and I don’t trust that they wouldn’t turn this whole thing around on me. I just want my stuff, my paints and supplies.
“Ari, how important is it, really?”
“It’s all I have.”
He folds his arms and glares. “Well…you seem to be making do without it…”
I cock my head, unsure what he’s getting at.
“How did you paint that flower arrangement in my kitchen?”
Damn. I couldn’t resist; his kitchen was just so white. I can’t keep my satisfaction from showing when I try to explain. “I have a few tiny bottles of paint and a couple of brushes I bought when I was first on my own, because I literally would rather skip a meal than not have paint. But I had to get creative with those flowers. There’s lots of things right in your own home to use as paint. Food coloring with a flour mixture, makeup, even some fruits and vegetables. Fitting for the kitchen, right?”
He doesn’t seem impressed or amused. “Sure, if you had said owner’s permission.”
I’m still not skilled at deciphering his expressions so I play it safe. “I’m sorry,” I say, attempting a remorseful look.
“I don’t think you are, but you do have serious talent. I don’t think I told you how impressed I was with the mural you painted on the wall of that house.”
Maybe it’s because he’s ten years older than me but something about the way he scolds me is very appealing. “Thank you.” I say it softly and hold his gaze, just testing the waters a bit.
He averts his eyes and finally picks up his cup again. “So, how do you plan to get your stuff if you don’t call the police?”
“Sergio’s getting married next month in Vegas. Alex is the best man. Everyone’s going early for the bachelor party. When he’s gone, that’s when I’ll go.”
“What if he changed the locks?”
“Then I’ll break in,” I deadpan.
He huffs like I’m joking, but I want him to know I’m dead serious.
“You just might be talking to the cops anyway. I’m not sure I can let you do this.”
“Let me?” Mason is in over his head with me, but he’ll figure it out soon enough.
He looks out into the café like he’s thinking things over with himself. It’s kind of cute. “I’m going with you, and if you can get in legally, then we’ll go in. It was your home, after all.” There’s a hint of a question hanging at the end of that and then he turns back to me, waiting.
“Yes, of course.”
“But if he’s changed the locks, I don’t know if I can be a part of breaking in.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
He leans back in his
seat like he’s not sure what he got himself into. He’s playing both good cop and bad cop and that confuses him, messes up his tidy little world. Regret sinks in but it’s strong and telling.
“Look, I don’t want trouble and I especially don’t want it for you. I’ll handle it on my own. I’m very resourceful.” I grin and lift a brow.
At the sound of a phone beep, he pulls his cell from his jacket pocket. He does it with such grace I realize he’s not just a guy in a suit but a man who lives and breathes his business. I must be a serious kink in his plan. I frown as I watch him read a message but then he chuckles.
“What is it?” slips out of my mouth before I catch myself from being nosy.
“It’s my brother Logan. He wants to know where you are?”
“Me? Why?”
“I sent him to my place to pick you up…” He rubs his jaw over an awkward grimace like he’s embarrassed to tell me.
“What…you sent him to babysit the teen runaway?”
“Not exactly. I was going to, uh, put you to work.”
I lean back and fold my arms. “Aw, nice move. Very responsible of you.”
“Don’t get the wrong idea. Mainly, I just wanted to keep you busy. Obviously, I was right in my thinking.”
“Hey.” I toss my cloth napkin at him and then sip my tea. “Actually, can I still do it?” I have a small stash of cash I use for emergencies, but it won’t last much longer.
He seems to think about that but starts shaking his head before he says, “I don’t know…”
“What do you mean? You were right. I need to be kept busy and I might as well work—and make money—while I’m waiting for Alex to go to Vegas. And then I—” Holy shit, what am I doing? Nowhere in this conversation did Mason agree to let me keep staying with him. My eyes fall to my lap.
“Let me just reply to Logan and let him know all is fine.”
As he’s typing, a boulder settles into my stomach and I can’t stay silent. Needing to get it over with, I look up and say, “You don’t want me to stay—”
“No,” he says, snapping his head up. “I do.”
My heart warms and soars. Do I dare press my luck? “And the job…”
Broken Bridges (Bridges Brothers Book 2) Page 6