by Rush, Olivia
“Ironic.”
“No, just a shitheel move,” Mason replied. “Which is what he is. I’d expect nothing less. Fuck, Becca, when I saw what he was doing, when he said that to you about… Something just fucking snapped inside me.”
“I know,” I said. “Me too.” I worked my fingers over the stubble, then down the sides of his neck. He swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Thanks for doing that. I appreciate you sticking up for me, but I didn’t want you to get in trouble because of him. He’s not worth it.”
Mason nodded and tilted his head to one side trapping my hand between his shoulder and neck. It was such a simple, affectionate gesture, but my knees weakened regardless.
“You can’t go back there,” he said, after a beat. “I won’t let him near you again.”
“Mason.” I shook my head then swallowed. It was too hard to concentrate with him this close. I fought against the tide. God, it would be so easy to get swept up in it, in him, even now. “I don’t need you to protect me from him. I’ll be fine. I’m going to go to the cops, and if nothing comes of that, I’ll report him to the medical board for review. He can get his license revoked.”
“Even if you report him, to both the cops and the medical review board, nothing will come of it until the actual review happens. You’ll be stuck there, working with him.”
I wriggled my nose, slipped my hand down to Mason’s chest and felt his heartbeat underneath my palm. “Didn’t Crown fire him?”
“I don’t know,” Mason replied. “He spoke to us separately.”
“Well, I bet my left boob he got fired. Crown knows I’m going to report him to the police. It follows that he’d do the right thing and get rid of the problem before this escalates.”
Mason rested his forehead against mine. “Becca—”
I took a step back, out of reach. “No, Mason. This job is the best thing that’s happened to me in a while, and until I can find something else, I’m going to stick with it. I’m not going to let some creepy ass dude stop me from doing what I want to do.”
“I understand,” he said. “Totally. I just won’t let him fucking near you. I’ll rip his head off and shit down his throat if he tries anything.”
I laughed. “That’s an image.”
“I’m serious.” But the corners of his mouth twitched, regardless. The mood lightened slightly. “Do you need me to take you to the police station?”
“No,” I said. “I’ll do that later. Right now, I just want to forget about all of this and chill.” I walked to the coffee pot and started it up. I still hadn’t had my morning cup, thanks to that handsy asshole, and the lack of caffeine had me grumpy.
Mason walked up beside me. “Let me,” he said and took over. “You sit down.”
I followed the suggestion and watched him work in the kitchen. He was confident, even as he asked where the mugs were, and brought out the sugar and creamer, too. So friggin’ at ease within himself. I adored that about him.
Whoa there. Adore is a little too close to love for comfort.
Regardless, I rose from the stool again and walked up to him. He stopped what he was doing and stared at me, the sugar pot still clasped in his hand. It was so big, it dwarfed the item—made him look like he was a giant.
He raised an eyebrow at me. I licked my lips.
“Tell me what you want, Becca,” he said, softly. “And I’ll give it to you. Whatever it is, angelface, you’ve got it.”
The words were similar to those he’d said yesterday, and they invoked the same reaction. I was weak-kneed, trembling to be closer to him, to collapse in his arms. It sucked having to be strong all the time, but this man was strong enough for twenty of me. I could shake with him. I could moan with satisfaction. I could break down.
“Becca,” he breathed.
“I just want you,” I said and swallowed. “All the time. I don’t know why.”
“All the time,” he agreed. “I can’t work it out either. Every time I look at you—” He cut off and took a step forward.
I whimpered, involuntarily.
The sugar pot dropped from his fingertips and struck the counter top. Crystals sprayed everywhere, but I couldn’t have cared less. He slipped one arm around my waist, his free hand traveling to my ass.
The kiss seared through me. His tongue massaged mine, our breaths mingled, and I fell into him and kissed him back, hard and fast.
Mason lifted me onto the counter, shoving the coffee mugs to one side. They rattled along the granite, fell off the edge, and crashed to the floor. None of the chaos mattered. It was me and him.
His lips, my lips. His hand shifting down my spine, fingertips digging into my flesh, scouring away the icky feelings from earlier. Mason wiped the slate clean.
My fingers popped the top button of his jeans, and I worked them toward his zipper, losing my breath against his lips.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he growled and sucked my bottom lip between his teeth. He nipped it, sucked, then released it. “My perfect woman. Angelface. Fuck.”
“I need you,” I managed. “Take me here. Please.”
“I told you, Becca. Anything for you. Anything.” He cupped my breast through the fabric of my blouse and squeezed gently.
“More,” I groaned. “Mo—”
A curt tap on the front door, followed by the buzz of my doorbell, cut off the words.
The tension between us snapped. I blinked. “Shit,” I said.
“Who is it?” Mason stepped back, clearly sensing the moment had passed. He buttoned up his jeans, then took me by the waist and lifted me down from the counter, setting my feet firmly on the ground.
I swallowed at the show of strength. “It’s Kathy. From the sanctuary. She’s coming to check that the backyard is puppy- and alligator-proof.”
Mason nodded as the doorbell rang again. “You get that,” he said. “I’ll take care of the mess in here. Dustpan?”
“Last cupboard on the left, at the bottom.”
“On it.”
We grinned at each other stupidly, and genuine joy settled in my chest again. The warm fuzzy feeling was punctuated by another knock at the front door, then a trickle of fear.
I’ve let him in too far already. What if it’s too late?
“I’ll be right back,” I said and hurried out of the kitchen, leaving the gorgeous doctor to clean up our mess.
Well, some of it, at least.
The mess we’d created officially extended past sugar and broken mugs. If I wasn’t careful, there’d be more fragile pieces on the line.
Chapter 19
Mason
The following morning, I dressed quickly in clothes I didn’t mind fucking up. Given that I’d been fired—pending review, no doubt—I had time to kill, and I was more than happy to spend it helping out Rebecca at her place.
The door still had to be replaced and the front and back stairs fixed up, too. I had plenty to keep me busy, not to mention spending the day with Rebecca would be infinitely better than sitting around here, staring at the boxes and deciding whether I should fucking move or not.
What choice do I have now?
I was out of a job. The opportunity I’d picked up in Vermont was the only thing I had left and, fuck it, even that might be dead in the water thanks to Jackson and his creep fingers.
My fingers slipped on my belt at the thought of that asshat.
I took a breath to calm the anger unfurling in my chest. Christ almighty, what I’d give to be in a ring with that motherfucker and give him the ass-whooping of a lifetime. The fact that I’d ever been friends with him was insane.
Back then, he’d never shown an inkling of his true colors.
I brushed aside thoughts of the jackass and focused on the day instead. With Rebecca, I didn’t have to address thoughts of the future. I could just fucking chill, bury myself in work, and spend my evening with her.
Ten minutes later, breakfast eaten and wood loaded up, I pulled up in front of her house and
cut off the engine of the Dodge. I looked up at her place—the classic columns, the now-repaired eaves—and smiled. Soon, she’d have everything fixed up and a little puppy for company.
And what then? You’ll leave. Leave her to the fucking vultures in this town, Perry included.
I grunted and clunked open my car door, then made my way to the gate and up the front path to the door. A piece of paper fluttered against it, folded in half with my name scrawled across the front.
I brought it down and flipped it open.
Gone fishing.
Kidding. I’ve gone up to New Orleans to see my sister. There’s a key under the front mat if you need to get into the house for any reason. I know you wanted to work on the place today, Mason, I just needed some time to be with family.
I didn’t text because I knew you’d convince me not to go on my own.
Yes, I took the bus, and yes, I’m fine with it.
I’ll text you later, when I’ve arrived.
I’ll be thinking of you.
Becca
I folded up the note again and tucked it into my back pocket. Fuck it, of course she was out of town. Yesterday, after Kathy had gone, she’d told me she needed some time to be alone and think, and I’d respected that. Gone home, jerked off to thoughts of her naked, breasts heaving underneath me, and that was fine.
As long as she was all right.
Regardless, the fact that she’d gone to New Orleans on a damn bus didn’t exactly fill me with rainbows and fuckin’ sunshine.
I brought out my phone, stepped back and took a seat on the top step. The wood groaned underneath me but held. Sure enough, I had a text message from her.
“Here safe and thinking of you.”
I opened a reply and started texting, but my fingers faltered on the screen. “Fuck this,” I muttered, and hit dial instead. Everything that’d happened over the past week had driven me to this point.
All I could think of was Becca. Claiming her. Ensuring that she stayed mine and only mine. Protecting her. Helping her. The fact she wasn’t here bit balls, but I’d show her that I supported her choices, no matter what.
I pressed the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” Becca answered on the second ring.
“There you are,” I said, and a goofyass smile popped up on my face. “I got your note. The fishing good up in New Orleans?”
“I have no idea,” Becca replied, and there was a smile in her voice too. “My sister wouldn’t fish unless it was for pizza or Chinese takeaway.”
“I heard that!” A woman yelled in the background.
“That’s because I said it real loud,” Becca replied then cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “What can I do for you, doctor?”
“You know, you shouldn’t talk to me like that. You’re only making things harder for me.”
“Harder? Do you have proof of that?”
“You’re not really asking me for a dick pic, are you?” I burst out laughing and settled back against one of the columns flanking the stairs. “’Cause I’m sitting here in broad daylight, on your front porch, with a boner and the whole world to view it.”
“Please, you know that street is empty,” Becca replied. “Anyway, no, don’t send me a dick pic. There isn’t a bus back until tomorrow morning and I’m afraid seeing you now would be way too much of a temptation. I might have to walk all the way back.”
“Are you kidding? I’m two seconds away from driving out there, picking you up, and eating you out before we come home.”
“Mason,” she breathed. That same breathy voice I equated with satisfaction. With that wholesome fucking goodness that came from us together, whether it was on a bed, the floor in the living room, or the counter in the kitchen.
“I’ve been thinking,” I said after a second, forcing thoughts of our sex away. “We haven’t had a real date yet.”
Becca fell silent.
“You still there? All I’m getting is terrified silence.”
“Who said I was terrified?” she asked.
“I wasn’t born yesterday, Becca. Look, by date I didn’t mean we’re dating, just that we should go out together. Hold hands. Eat out. Come home and wreck the interior of your house or maybe mine. What do you say?”
Becca took a second. “It depends what you have in mind,” she said. “I’m not exactly keen to go to the Dirty Rice and be ogled like I’m a tightrope walker in a circus.”
“Why the tightrope walker? Why not the ringmaster?”
“You’re the ringmaster,” she replied and laughed.
“Oh, don’t go down that road. We’ll be back at dick pics in no time.” I scratched the back of my neck, swiping away the sweat that’d sprouted up there. Today was set to be another scorcher in Stoneport. “There’s a carnival in town this weekend. I was thinking we could go check it out. Go on a few rides, eat some cotton candy, that kinda shit.”
“That kinda shit, eh? Sounds appealing. I still feel like we’ll get ogled by the locals.”
“That’s bound to happen, regardless. What are you afraid of? I know it’s not me or what I’ll do to you when you get back,” I replied, evenly. “So what is it?”
Silence again. In the background, a door creaked and slammed. The sound of road traffic came into focus, cars driving by in a busy street, the ring of a bicycle bell.
“Becca.”
“I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of me,” she replied. “Can you give me a couple hours to think about it?”
“Of course,” I replied. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be here waiting the minute you get home. No strings attached.”
“Good. I’d like that.”
“Oh, and Becca?”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll bring the wood,” I said and hung up on her laughing hysterically.
Christ, she was a peach. Just perfect. She got my brand of humor like no one else ever had. Usually people looked at me like I’d grown another head when I cracked a cheesy joke like that. I smirked and tucked my phone into my front pocket then rose from the steps.
There was no use wasting a day like this. I had everything I needed to fix up the front and back steps. Both fences were complete, and the eaves were all fixed up too. Soon, Becca wouldn’t need my help anymore.
Not in this sense, at least.
I trudged down the front steps and toward the gate. A figure stepped into view around the side of my truck, and I stopped walking. I placed both palms on the top of the picket fence gate, relishing the pain of the spikes biting into my flesh.
“What do you want?” I asked.
Tabitha stepped forward, twirling a long, blonde section of hair around two fingers. She pouted her too-thick lips at me. “Can’t a girl say hello around here? I thought we were in the South. So much for hospitality, Mason.”
“What do you want?” I repeated. I didn’t have time for shit from my ex right now. Fuck it, I’d never have time for it again. It was insane how different she was from Becca. It was insane that I’d ever found the woman in front of me attractive, that I’d thought, for a second, she was a genuine human being who actually gave a shit.
Young and dumb. That’d be my excuse for the marriage.
Tabitha sighed and shrugged her bony shoulders, one of the straps of her too-tight camisole slipping down. She didn’t bother lifting it into place again. “I want to talk to you, Mace. You haven’t answered any of my calls or replied to my text messages.”
“Yeah, there’s a fucking reason for that, Tabitha. Let me spell it out for you. I do not want to talk to you.” I opened the gate and headed for the back of the truck, dismissing the conversation and focusing, instead, on the tasks I’d set for myself today.
“Mace, please,” she whispered. “Please, just listen to me.”
I ignored her and hauled some of the wood out of the back of the truck, resting it against my shoulder. I carried it into the front yard and shut the gate behind me. Her heels clicked up to it, but she didn’t enter.
&n
bsp; “Mace. You can’t pretend what we had didn’t mean anything to you. I know I made some shitty mistakes, but you have to understand that I made them for real reasons. You were gone. And he was—look, it was complicated.”
Still, I blanked her. We’d been through all of this already. We were divorced. I owed her nothing. It wasn’t that I was mad at her anymore. I was just fucking indifferent, and I didn’t need anything jeopardizing my relationship with Becca.
Relationship. Good god, how the fuck did I get here?
The last relationship hadn’t exactly worked out well.
“My dad passed away,” she said.
I turned toward her, one eyebrow raised. Was this another one of her lies, or was it real? Tabitha’s old man had been good to me. A good man who hadn’t approved of his daughter’s behavior. “He did?”
“Yes,” she said. “Two days ago. I’m—I’m struggling to keep up with everything. I miss him so much, and seeing him like that, just lying there, and having to organize everything it just—it reminds me of you. It reminds me of us and how safe I felt when we were together. I miss you, Mace. I’m sorry for what happened, baby.”
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. Finally, I released it. “Tabitha, I’m sorry for your loss, but it doesn’t change jack shit. We’re done here. Get it through your head. We are done here.”
Her disposition shifted from victim to bitch so fast it should’ve shocked me—it would have if I hadn’t witnessed it before. “What is it?” she snapped. “What is it, huh? Is it this fucking hussy who lives here? You’re into her? Is that it?”
I studied her calmly, shaking my head. “Get lost, Tab.” I turned back to my work, ignoring the huff of air, the clack of her heels as she stormed off. Any feelings I’d had for her, no matter how superficial, had died years ago.
Her presence made no difference to me.
It was the exact opposite of how I felt about Becca.