Rated Ex

by Fox, Ella

  My nerves are quickly replaced by annoyance.

  He’s.

  Got.

  Balls.

  In a roundabout way, it’s his fault I’m here. I wouldn’t have agreed to this stupid date if we hadn’t broken up eleven weeks ago—just before he left for Italy to be on the set of the new movie he’s directing for Garrett Riordan’s studio.

  Mason’s clear frustration should not be a turn-on, but I’d be lying if I said the thought of climbing him like a rock wall at the gym isn’t an appealing idea right now. Reminding myself that we broke up for a good reason—albeit one I didn’t fully explain to him—I steel my resolve and take a deep breath.

  “Am I not supposed to date?” I ask, my voice casual. “I didn’t get that memo.”

  He growls low in his throat, which causes my nipples to tighten. The sound is not all that far off from the one he makes when he's about to come, and I know if I don’t control myself he’ll wind up realizing how affected I still am by him.

  I put my hands on my hips and glare at him. “Don’t get all growly alpha with me, buddy. I don’t believe for one second that you really care about my dating life.”

  His jaw clenches as he shakes his head emphatically. “Don’t ever doubt that I fucking care, angel.”

  I wave my hand dismissively. “You know what I mean. We ended things, so I can’t imagine why you think this concerns you one way or the other.”

  “If you’d have answered any of my emails, you’d know why I think it concerns me,” he grumbles. “I tried calling and texting, but you changed your fucking number instead of picking up. We need to talk, so here I am.”

  I’m flustered by the fact he was so determined to get to me. Honestly, I didn’t expect him to care at all. Knowing I need to remain aloof, I shrug as though I’m indifferent. “I distinctly remember telling you I wanted a clean break,” I remind him.

  He frowns and stares at me in silence before he sighs and shakes his head. “And I distinctly remember telling you I was fucking confused about what was going on. You came out of nowhere with the whole I-don’t-think-we-should-see-each-other-anymore thing. I was caught off guard because I had no idea where any of that came from.”

  “I don’t think rehashing the whole thing is necessary.”

  “Well, I do, but I can see you’re not going to make this easy on me,” he says gruffly.

  I’m tempted to tell him that cutting off communication wasn’t easy for me, but I did it for a reason. Now he’s here and any scintilla of progress I made over the last eleven weeks has been wiped out.

  I’m too frustrated by that to contain my annoyance. “Cut the crap, Mason. You need to respect that wasting time as your warm body du jour isn’t something I aspired to. Giving you my number wasn’t a wise move. If I’d known I was going to…” Trailing off, I look away in an attempt to get my bearings.

  Dammit—I nearly admitted that I’d been falling in love with him. There is no way in hell I’m letting him in on that secret. “The two of us weren’t a good fit,” I blurt. “In retrospect it’s obvious that we never made sense. I’ve written the whole thing off as lust-induced lunacy.”

  Although I tell myself that I’d have steered clear of him had I known how he felt about relationships, I’m not sure I believe it. I can’t imagine my life without having experienced the joy of being touched by this man. He doesn’t need to know that, though.

  “Body du jour? Lust-induced lunacy?” he repeats, his voice low.

  I arch my brow in challenge as I nod. “Yep.”

  His expression is one of absolute frustration. “First, you were never some random body to me, so don’t ever say that shit again. Second, you’re right—there was plenty of lust and maybe it was crazy, but it was also a hell of a lot more than that and we both know it. Whatever you’re thinking is bullshit and I’m here to fix that.”

  Fix it? I don’t think there’s anything he can do to change things. “Jesus, Mason—”

  “Just hear me out, Rory. Will you please come with me so that we can talk?”

  The laser-like focus he has on me right now is too damn heady, and my already hard nipples are aching for his touch. His gaze drops to my breasts as if he somehow knows they’re pebbled. I’m reassured that he can’t get visual confirmation of that since I'm not dressed in any kind of sexy way. I didn't come here tonight with the intention of having a meaningful date, so I'm wearing a super soft off-the-shoulder gray sweater, some fitted black pants, and a pair of black flats. The hunger in his gaze suggests that although he can’t see the current condition of my nipples, he’s thinking about what I look like naked.

  I cross my arms over my chest in an effort to divert his gaze. “Come with you?” I ask. “Now?”

  “Yeah. You didn’t get to eat dinner, so you must be hungry. I’ll pick up some takeout.”

  Hunger is to blame for the fact that the mention of food gets my attention.

  “Where do you imagine we’re eating this takeout?” I ask, my tone full of suspicion.

  “My place,” he answers. “Or, if that makes you uncomfortable, we can turn around and go eat in the shithole behind you. We need to talk, now—and I’m willing to risk food poisoning to do it. I thought somewhere private would be more appropriate, but that’s up to you.”

  Imagining going back into that restaurant makes me shudder. It was so dank I can’t conceive of anything appetizing coming out of the kitchen. “Why is it so important we do this tonight?” I ask.

  “You’ll understand once we have the conversation,” he answers.

  I know I should be strong enough to walk away, but I’m interested in what he has to say. Besides, the seal has been broken. I’ve seen him and nothing has changed with the way I feel—which means that until I can go back to not seeing him, I won’t be able to get over him. Granted that wasn’t working for me before, but maybe after this talk I’ll feel better. People are always going on and on about closure—maybe I didn’t get the proper amount of it when I ended the relationship. Surely there’s a reason people rave about how transformative closure can be… right?

  Sighing, I nod. “Fine—we can talk at your place.”

  Only when his frame relaxes do I realize he’s been uptight this entire time.

  “The old house got fucked up in the Woolsey fire, so I’m crashing in a rental Garrett’s uncle owns in Malibu. Give me your phone and I’ll put the address into Google maps and the codes to get into the house in your notes. I’ll stop and pick up whatever you’re in the mood for.”

  “Wait—is your house going to be okay?”

  He nods. “My roof is singed to shit, as is all the outdoor decking, but everything can be fixed in time.”

  I’m so glad he wasn’t in town when the fire was raging. I’d seen on the news that it was in his neighborhood and had felt sick. If he’d been home, I’d have been crawling out of my skin with anxiety.

  “I’m glad it wasn’t a total loss. Um, where in Malibu are you now?”

  “The neighborhood above Point Dume,” he answers.

  “So you’ll be driving past the burger joint on PCH,” I point out.

  He smirks as he nods. “I should’ve known you’d want that. The usual, right? Sourdough burger, large curly fries, and a vanilla Coke.”

  I’m surprised he remembers my order, even though we went through that drive-through at least a half-dozen times during the two months we dated. His old house is right off PCH, not too far from the burger joint. Although Mason gravitated to food from places like Nobu, he was always willing to eat greasy fast food because I like it. It was one of the things I’d found endearing about him—that he cared about my likes and dislikes. I loved that he never made me feel small or annoying.

  The one and only time I dated a man with money before Mason was a disaster. Darryl spent every second of the two dates we’d gone on trying to impose his wants and his lifestyle on me. After that, I’d promised myself I’d never date anyone with money again. I’m a normal girl,
born and raised in North Hollywood. If I weren’t the assistant manager at the Tiffany store on Rodeo, Mason and I never would have met. He’d come in to pick up something from a friend’s wedding registry and left with a little something extra, namely my phone number. I’d given it to him against my better judgment, worried he’d be a rich prick. Instead, Mason was down-to-earth, real, and far from snobby. Looking back, I think it would’ve been impossible for me not to fall for him, hard.

  I didn’t get my heart back when we split up.

  Fearing my voice might crack if I talk right now, I nod to let him know that he’s right about my order. Needing a moment without him looking at me, I take my phone from my purse and hand it to him. My heart skips a few beats while I stare at the top of his head as his thumbs rapidly move across my phone screen. He seems… different somehow. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but there’s been a change.

  When he looks up from the phone and catches me studying him, he grins. I can feel a blush spreading across my cheeks as I take the phone. I feign indifference as I drop the phone back into my purse and pull my keys out. As I do, a thought bubbles to the surface of my mind.

  “Wait a second,” I snap. “It’s awfully damn suspicious that you just happened to be in the shittiest restaurant in Los Angeles at the exact same time I was in here on a date. What the hell, Mason?”

  The look on his faces confirms that this was no accident. He assesses me for a few seconds as he chooses his words. “After all this time not being able to get ahold of you, I had to reach out to Carly a few days ago. I told her I was coming back early and basically threw myself at her mercy in the hopes that she’d give me your number, but she ignored me until she texted a little over an hour ago to say that you were on a date and it was now or never if I really wanted to talk to you. I broke pretty much every speed limit to get here.”

  Suddenly, Carly insisting I pay special attention to my hair and makeup tonight makes far more sense than it did. I thought she’d lost her mind and was thinking my blind date was going to wind up being husband material or something—a ludicrous idea, even before I met Ham. Now I realize she was really setting me up to see Mason. That little shit is in so much trouble with me. She’s damn lucky I’ve got bigger things on my mind now.

  “I’m allowed to date,” I remind him.

  He grimaces and rubs at his forehead. “Enough talk of dating,” he says stiffly. “Let me walk you to your car so we can get this show on the road. The sooner we get going, the sooner we can get back to my house to talk.”

  I nod, then gesture with my chin to where my black Prius is parked. “I think I can make it thirty steps without an escort.”

  “I’m not sure about that in this fucking neighborhood,” he snaps. “That guy was a fucking dick for making you come to the middle of LA for dinner—and to the world’s biggest shithole at that.”

  I can tell he’s really not into this neighborhood because after he sees me to my car he stands and waits until I’ve closed and locked my door before he walks away.

  It’s not until after I pull away that I realize I might be making a horrible mistake. I don’t know what he wants to talk about, but I know that if he suggests some kind of fuck-buddy arrangement, I’m going to lose it.

  Closure, I remind myself. That’s all he wants out of this.

  At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

  Chapter Three

  Mason’s fire-ravaged house was right on the beach, but the area he’s staying in right now is on a cliff above the ocean. The place next to his temporary home is massive, takes up half the block, and is damn near the size of a small hotel. I don’t have a great view of it due to the wall that runs the length of the property, but what I can see is pure luxury. I make a mental note to ask if it’s an ultra-exclusive club or something.

  Pulling up to the gate at the address Mason gave me, I input the code. After the wrought iron swings open, I pull up the drive and park in front of a beautiful Spanish-style home. Uncomfortable with the idea of letting myself into a house I’ve never been in, I decide to stay in the car until Mason gets here. Taking my phone out of the holder on my dash, I shoot a text off to Carly.

  I’m going to beat you silly.

  When she doesn’t answer, I send another.

  You can ignore me, but don’t kid yourself. I’m going to find you.

  Giving up on hearing from her, I pull up the Woody Puzzle app and start a game. I’ve just started playing when Mason texts me.

  Don’t sit in the driveway. Go inside.

  Rolling my eyes, I text back. How do you know I’m not inside right now?

  His answer comes thirty seconds later. Because I know you. Don’t sit in the car playing games on your phone. Go in.

  I mutter something about frustrating men as I slide my phone into my purse and get out of the car. After entering the code at the door, I enter the house and look around. It’s a really nice, but pretty empty, place. I walk through the living room and the kitchen, noting the scant amount of brand-new furniture. There’s a dark gray leather sectional, a coffee table, and a large flat-screen in the living room. In the kitchen the furniture consists of four stools at the island. There’s a built-in banquet-style table in front of the kitchen window, but other than that, the place is a blank canvas.

  Something about the kitchen space seems familiar, but I can’t put my finger on why that is since I know I’ve never been here before. Shrugging off the thought, I set my purse on the counter and take a seat on one of the stools to wait for Mason. The calm I’ve been trying to project is gone the moment I hear him come through the door.

  When we sat at the island to eat, he seemed to realize that I needed a minute. The conversation during our meal is innocuous but cordial. It doesn’t matter, though—with every breath, I’m aware that the clock is ticking down to the talk he’s so insistent we have. I’m not uncomfortable with him physically, but the intensity of his stare grows more extreme with each passing minute, which makes me nervous. If I weren’t starving, I probably wouldn’t eat a thing.

  Once we’re finished, he grabs our trash and then wipes off the counter. After I push in our stools, he gestures toward the back of the house.

  “The yard is the best part of the house. Let’s talk out there.”

  We walk from the kitchen and through a beautiful sunroom to get into the yard. Once we’re back there, I see what Mason meant. A dozen strands of Edison-style outdoor lights start from a spot a few feet above the elevated outdoor patio and run straight through to the wall at the rear of the yard. The lights give the space an almost magical quality. Stepping down from the patio, I’m taken by how inviting it all is. A pool rounds the area out, and the fountains that run along the back wall of the pool provide beautiful ambient noise.

  Mason guides me to a small outdoor seating area made up of four chairs around a fire feature. As I take a seat, he turns the handle for the gas and then pulls a stick lighter from the side of the pit to light it. Once he’s finished, he sits in the chair to my right. My nerves come roaring back full force when he turns to face me and our eyes meet.

  “I wish you’d been honest with me about why you broke things off.”

  I wait for a follow-up, but he says nothing else.

  “I thought I was?” I say, like it’s a question.

  He shakes his head as he gives me a pointed look. “With no prior warning you declared that we were done. We both know that came out of left field—it was the day before I left for Italy and you’d spent the morning helping me pack. We had planned when we’d be able to talk each day. We were fine—right up until the moment you told me we’d run our course and that you didn’t want to see me again.”

  The memory of the shocked look on his face and the conversation that followed make my stomach churn. “That was honest.”

  “It was bullshit and you know it. Instead of telling me what was really going on so that I could explain, you fucking lied to me.”

  I cock my head in
confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is that you caught me off guard, which meant I wasn’t thinking straight. I was halfway to Italy the following day when it hit me. You overheard me on the phone with Garrett, didn’t you?”

  Well, hell. Busted.

  My mind is running a million miles an hour, but I feel like going over this with him is counterproductive since it won’t change anything. Therefore, I shrug like hearing what he said to Garrett was no big deal. “It just confirmed what I’d been thinking about your outlook on our relationship,” I say evenly.

  That’s a lie. The reality was that I’d been stunned. We hadn’t been together for long, but I’d been certain we had a future together. All that changed when I walked past his office on my way out to his deck when I overheard him talking to Garrett on the phone. I hadn’t been able to hear exactly what Garrett’s side of the conversation was, but it was clear it had been something about Mason’s relationship with me. I was able to work that out because of what Mason had said, which had staggered me.

  “I’m so fucking sorry, angel,” he says, drawing my attention back to the present. “That wasn’t my outlook on our relationship and I hate that you heard that. When Garrett asked if I was changing my ways, I threw some bullshit his way because I didn’t want to talk about it with him before I discussed it with you. We hadn’t been together long, and we hadn’t spoken about what each of us envisioned for our future. Before I ran my mouth with my friends, I wanted to talk to you. When I said I couldn’t imagine being a long-term kind of guy, that was just me blowing him off. The thing is, that was true before I met you, but it wasn’t true after.”

  The intensity in his eyes hits me square in the feels, and I feel like I’m about to come out of my skin. Only sheer force of will keeps me from standing up in order to pace.

  “I should’ve told you that I was anxious about the fact that you and I would be separated during the shoot. I’d never been in a relationship before, and I damn sure never lost any sleep over being separated from someone for months at a time. That wasn’t the case with you and, honestly, my head was spinning like a fucking top. I hated the idea of going away for work, and it wasn’t like you could drop everything and come to Italy with me. When you casually announced that you thought we shouldn’t see each other anymore, I was so stunned I didn’t know what the fuck to say or do.”