Trent poured another glass, this time sipping it. He shrugged, that annoyingly defiant look in his eyes. “Heard what went down with you and Lorena at the club. Tough break, bro. She had nice tits.”
Mason ground his teeth. “Watch it, Trent. She might not be my girlfriend anymore, but don’t be an asshole.” Though trying to get Trent not to act like a prick and an asshole was probably a lost cause at this point.
Trent rolled his eyes then took another sip of his drink. “What? I was just telling you the truth. It is what it is.” His brother slammed his drink back then poured another generous two fingers. It wasn’t lost on Mason that Trent had neither bothered to ask if he wanted any, nor poured him some.
He didn’t want to mix bourbon and beer in the first place, but it was the principle of the thing.
After all, it was his bourbon.
“Did you walk here?” Mason asked. The way his brother was swilling, there was no way he could let him drive home.
Trent rolled his eyes. “My driver is outside waiting for me. I’m not an idiot.”
A driver. Really? In Austin? What-the-fuck-ever.
“Anyway,” Trent continued, “word on the street is Lorena is consoling her broken heart with a bevy of men but not putting out. It’s only been a few hours, mind you, but there you go.”
Mason clenched his fists. Jesus, he didn’t want to think about what Lorena was doing. Nor did he want to think about the fact that people were talking about it.
“You came over here to tell me you know about me and Lorena? You just wanted to rub it in my face? Thanks. I already got the memo about her and who she is. You can see yourself out.” He just wanted to get some sleep and forget the time he’d put into a relationship that had been apparently going nowhere. Trent could go home or go to his loving girlfriend’s house and remain the douchebag he was. As long as he left Mason alone, he didn’t care.
Trent narrowed his eyes, looking like a petulant child in a designer suit. “Aren’t you going to ask about my day? You always were a bit self-centered.”
Jesus. Christ.
“If you’re done…”
His brother sniffed. “I actually came over here for another reason.”
“Oh?” To rub his breakup in his face? Probably.
“It seems today was not the day for Sutton men when it comes to relationships. Presley…dumped me this morning.”
Mason’s mouth dropped open in shock. This couldn’t be real. Presley loved his brother. No matter that Mason thought her love was invested in the wrong person, he’d never blamed her for that. She put up with Trent’s attitude and even tended to make the man a better person when she could. She was too good for him, but Mason never held that against her.
“What happened?” He also hadn’t failed to notice the slight hesitation when Trent used the word “dumped”. There was more to the story, and Mason had a bad feeling about it.
Trent narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t I just tell you? She dumped me. Through no fault of my own I might add.”
Mason saw the lie in Trent’s eyes and moved so he stood toe-to-toe with his dear brother. “What the fuck did you do, Trent?”
“Nothing,” Trent clearly lied.
“Don’t fucking lie to me. What did you do to Presley?” Jesus. He knew Presley was better than his brother, but if Trent hurt her…fuck.
“Fine,” his brother spat. “You’re going to probably hear about it anyway. You know how people exaggerate. Presley came home early and found Stacy and me in a rather…delicate position.”
Mason cursed, his blood boiling in his veins. “You fucked another woman in Presley’s house? You cheated on the one woman who could actually stand you with some tramp in Presley’s home?”
His brother had some brass balls. Useless balls that Mason wanted to put in a vise right then. Poor Presley. Thank God she’d dumped his ass.
“Fuck you, Mason. Lorena dumped you, too, so don’t act all high and mighty. And for what it’s worth, it should have been our house. Not just Presley’s. But no, she never would let me move in. As if I wasn’t good enough. Fucking bitch.”
Mason growled then moved, the feel of his fist against his brother’s cheek only somewhat gratifying.
“Call her a bitch again, and I’ll cut off your balls. Get the fuck out of my house, you waste of air. You cheated on a girl that is so much better than you. I don’t know why she was ever with you in the first place. Then you have the nerve, the fucking nerve, to complain that she never let you move in? You’re an idiot. A selfish prick. Get out. I don’t want to look at you.”
Trent rubbed his face, spittle collecting at the corner of his mouth.
“I came here because you’re my brother. I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”
Dear God, his brother was a flaming idiot. “Well, you thought wrong. Now go out to your precious driver and go home. I’m done with you.”
Mason might hate his brother right then, but he was grateful the man had a ride. There was no way he’d let Trent drive home drunk.
“I’m fine, you asshole. See if I care about you and your future breakups. Because there will be many more. You’re not good enough for a whore like Lorena, and you’re not good enough for anyone else. Oh, by the way, you can’t kick me out of your life for good. You’ll still have to deal with me at work, and I won’t forget the way you treated me.”
With that, Trent stormed out of the house like the tantrum-fueled little boy he never outgrew.
Mason ran a hand over his face and checked the clock. Nine thirty. Not too late. He quickly called a cab for himself then ran upstairs to brush his teeth.
Presley was his friend too. Since she and Trent had started dating, she and Mason had grown closer. She might not welcome the reminder of his brother, but Mason knew he at least had to see her. They’d both been through a breakup that day, and sometimes a friendly face could help.
By the time the cab picked him up and got him to her place, it was after ten, and he was rethinking his decision. What was he thinking? She was probably asleep and not wanting to deal with company. Crap.
Before he could knock, Presley opened the door, her soft brown curls in disarray around her head. Her baggy flannel shirt and pants looked like she’d slept in them.
She gave him a sad smile then stepped aside to let him in.
“Harmony just left. We heard about you and Lorena.”
Mason did the only thing he could think of. He opened his arms. She stepped into his embrace and broke into tears, wetting his shirt.
“He’s a bastard, baby.” He ran his hands down her back, resting his chin on the top of her head.
“He is that,” she whispered.
He pulled her closer then picked her up, holding her to his chest. Her arms went around his neck, and he sighed into her hair. When he got to the living room, he sat down on the couch, Presley in his lap, and pulled the afghan over them both.
“It’s been a really shitty day,” he whispered.
“True,” she hiccupped back before sitting up fully on his lap. He frowned as she leaned back and over to the table, picking up two spoons and a carton of ice cream.
Fudge ripple.
His favorite.
“I sent Harmony home before we could eat this one. It’s a little soft, but ice cream is supposed to be good for breakups.”
He stared down into her dark blue eyes and felt something odd catch in this throat. Must be stress.
“Ice cream sounds perfect.”
She smiled for real this time then started eating. He joined in, knowing things would eventually be all right. They ate in silence. Nothing important needed to be said right then.
As she took another bite, Mason vowed to himself he wouldn’t let what happened take Presley out of his life. He liked her smile, her laugh, her sense of humor. He’d been her friend for as long as she’d been with Trent, and he didn’t want to lose that.
No matter what.
Chapter Three
; “Mac, conference in three minutes. Bring your ideas.”
Presley closed her eyes and held back a curse. It was just like Stan, her boss, to hold an impromptu meeting about something as important as her livelihood. Plus, the “Mac” thing was getting old. She hated the fact they wouldn’t call her by her real name. As if, by mentioning she was a woman, they’d catch her cooties. Presley wasn’t even a really girly name. It was The King’s last name for God’s sake.
She picked up her tablet then made sure that her hair was tucked under her beanie.
The little things she did day in and day out to keep the others happy were starting to grate on her.
She was damn good at her job, and she thought that should have been enough. But not here. No, it was the Boys’ Club, and she was an unwilling participant in their cruel games to try to keep her down. It didn’t matter that she was better at most tasks. Because she had a vagina instead of a penis, she had to work twice as hard.
Freaking men.
By the time she made it to the conference room, Geoff and Franklin were already seated in their favorite chairs on either side of Stan. This meant that Presley got to sit right across from them. Normally, that would be a good thing since she’d get eye contact. However, in this room, it meant the other two could whisper and snicker things to their boss like they were old chums.
Jesus, she was really starting to hate her job.
“So, tell me where you’re at,” Stan began, lacing his hands behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. The man had fallen out of more than one chair sitting that way, but there was no way Presley was going to talk him out of it. She already had to deal with snobbery because she had breasts.
Geoff and Franklin mimicked the position, and she barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Could the two be more obvious about their man crushes on their boss?
“Well, I’m—” Presley started but was cut off by Geoff clicking his pen. The sound went straight to her back teeth, and she winced.
“We’re almost done, Stan,” Geoff said, that smug smile on his face begging Presley to scratch it off.
Wait.
“We?” Presley asked, her temples pounding. She couldn’t have heard right. They couldn’t have been that cruel, that idiotic.
Franklin gave her a condescending smile. “We, Mac. Geoff and I thought we’d use our strengths and work together, rather than against one another. Two birds, one rock, and all that shit. We would have invited you to join us, but…you like to work on your own.” He winked.
Winked.
Fucking asshole.
And no, she didn’t like to work on her own. She hated it. She didn’t have the full skillset to design a whole tablet app on her own. Sure, she could do it decently, and was at this point, but it wouldn’t be as polished as it would have been if she’d had a partner to help her.
Geoff added, “Stan wanted friendly competition to get the best out of us. Isn’t that right, Stan?”
Stan folded his hands over his massive belly and nodded. “That’s right. When you two first told me you were going to work together, I thought it was a great idea.”
Yes, collaborating was a great idea, but that hadn’t been what Stan wanted in the first place. In fact, he’d been adamantly against the idea. Hence, Presley had worked her ass off. Alone. Instead of trying to find a partner who might not be at the skill level she needed but would be able to bear some of the burden.
That was if anyone had wanted to work with her to begin with.
“When was this?” she asked, thinking she should have popped some Aleve before this meeting.
“At the tabletop gaming party a couple of weeks ago,” Geoff replied, his eyes filled with that familiar arrogance.
“Why didn’t I know about this party?”
Great. She sounded like some jealous kid, but if the others were going to talk about important work matters that concerned her job without her being present, then she needed to know.
“Why does it matter, Mac?” Franklin sneered. “Anyway, we’re supposed to be talking about our projects rather than discussing party invites. Really, Mac.”
“Right,” Stan agreed. “So where were we?”
Presley listened as the duo discussed their work on the tablet app. Stan had wanted them all to design a project from scratch, rather than an adapted design like so many others out there. The role-playing game had to have controls within the design and be aimed at using the tilt and shaking effects with the tablet itself. Her design actually focused on a female protagonist—something she was now somewhat regretting. She shouldn’t have put her own imaginings into it. Not if she wanted to win the bid. Role-playing games were notoriously male-driven, and she might have shot herself in the foot with this decision. That didn’t mean she didn’t love it though. It just meant she’d have a fight on her hands.
Like usual.
Her skills were also more suited toward the graphics and minor programming. Not all of it. Meaning her sketches wouldn’t be finished. Not like the other two who could work together now. After she finished telling them about her game, they blinked at her. Their mouths opened and shut like little fat fish under water. She was totally screwed, and from the look on Stan’s face, they all knew it.
“Well,” Stan mumbled. “That’s…interesting.”
“A woman, Mac?” Franklin sputtered. “That’ll never sell. It’s a laughingstock.”
“Yeah,” Geoff added. “Women don’t play games.”
The fact that Presley, a woman, a gamer, and a designer, sat in front of them was lost on the trio. So many other things were lost on them.
Screw it.
She’d just keep going.
After the disappointing meeting, she picked up her things and headed home. She could work from there, and frankly, she wanted nothing to do with Geoff, Franklin, Stan, and the rest of the Boys’ Club.
On the way home, she stopped by her favorite coffee place for a caramel latte and once again lamented the fact she was dressed like a boy.
A dirty, grungy teenage boy at that.
She wore the clothes to fit in at work, and though they were comfy, that didn’t mean she necessarily liked them. Trent had never liked her work clothes, nor had he even liked her job. He’d constantly tried to change the way she dressed so she fit in with his land development associates, but she’d never given in fully. It wasn’t until now, with the relationship officially over, that she fully realized he didn’t want her. Presley just happened to be the little sister of the famous actor, Ian Mackenzie. Trent wanted her because of who her brother was, not who she was inside.
Her order came up, and not one man looked her way. Not that she necessarily wanted the attention, but it would have been a welcome stroke to her ego.
In the months since her breakup with Trent, she’d made good on her promise to stay away from men and the idea of love for good. She was fully over Trent. She knew her life was better without the egotistical bastard.
As long as she didn’t take a chance with her heart, it wouldn’t fracture. Again.
She wouldn’t fracture again.
The only men in her life now—other than the jerks at work—were her brother, Ian, and Mason.
Thank God for Mason.
She wouldn’t have been able to get through the past months without him.
She took a sip of her latte and lifted her face to the sun. The warm Austin air was just starting to get hot for the day, but right then, it was perfect. Soon she’d beg to be inside her air-conditioned house, but for the moment, she was at peace with the weather.
If only she could be at peace in all aspects of her life.
As she made her way home, she thought about that first night her relationship with Mason had changed from good friends to best friends who actually meant something to each other. She never thought she would end up closer to her ex’s brother than anyone else before she’d shared her ice cream with him. But that’s exactly what had happened. Without consciously thinking about it,
they’d become ingrained into each other’s lives so perfectly it was a wonder Mason had never been there before.
Since that horrible woman, Lorena, had publicly dumped him, Mason was also wary of starting a new romantic relationship. Though wary was a weak word for the both of them.
They had flat-out vowed not to date again.
Together, though, they’d formed a friendship that worked well for them. They ate together at least five days a week, mostly in, rather than going out. Sure, it was easier to not have to cook, but she and Mason liked staying home rather than being in public. And if they did go out, it was always to the hippie part of Austin and one of the smaller places where Trent and Lorena would never set foot. Mason also happened to love video games—although she still kicked his butt—and was teaching her how to care for her garden.
Together, they made it work.
As soon as she got home, she went straight to her office. Filled with Lord of the Rings, Black Dagger Brotherhood, and other fan-favorite collector items and books, it was the perfect office for her. Trent hated it, but hey, he wasn’t there. He wasn’t present in any part of her house anymore.
Since she’d found Trent canoodling Stacy on her kitchen counter, she’d not only bleached her kitchen within an inch of its life, she’d also gotten a new mattress.
She’d considered throwing everything out and starting from scratch, but that would have been crazy. And expensive. Just because Stacy and Trent might have had sex in certain places didn’t mean it had actually happened.
Also, she wasn’t sure bleaching the entire house would truly clean away the memories.
Bleach wouldn’t work on her brain either. Thankfully, her lease would be up in a couple months. As much as she’d once loved her small home, she knew she couldn’t live there forever. Not when visions of Stacy’s spread legs in her kitchen never quite went away.
With that unhappy thought, she plunked down in her office chair and got to work. She still hadn’t named her project other than the dummy title, Red Swan. Dangerous and gentle at the same time. She wasn’t sure Stan would go for it.
Finally Found You Page 3