I yawn and try to act casual. “Hey, you’re in town.”
His hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, and he leans against the doorframe. “You done bein’ a bitch?” His voice sounds like jagged rocks over broken glass, but he flashes a teasing smile.
I cock my head and force myself to smile. “Am I ever done being a bitch?”
“Good point.” He doesn’t wait to be invited in, just moves past me and into the kitchen. “I need a beer.”
Hoping he’d show up eventually, I’ve kept my fridge stocked with his favorite all-American brand, bottles, extra cold the way he likes it. I close the door and move to the couch, trying to remember how the old me—the me who hadn’t completely given her heart away to another man—would’ve acted.
He’s right behind me and drops to the couch, popping off the cap to his beer and tossing it to the coffee table. The familiar smell of Hatch—wind, desert dirt, leather, and a hint of sweat—permeates the air. His heavy boots clunk hard to the table as he reclines and the creaking of his cut as he makes himself comfortable are so opposite of Mason.
My Mason is smooth. Everything he does is like liquid, clean and fresh, powerful, beautiful, and peaceful on the surface that covers the raw danger that stirs underneath. Just like the ocean.
“The fuck you watchin’ here, Trix?”
My eyes dart to Hatch, who has his glare aimed at the television. “Oh, this?” I grab the remote, hit a few buttons to turn off the DVD player, and put on the racy cable TV network Hatch loves. “The Lion King. There was nothing on, so . . .”
Fuck. The old me never would watch Disney movies with Hatch around. The last thing I need is for him to get inside my head, and even though the DVDs are on display, he’s never taken an interest in them.
Never taken an interest in me outside of blow jobs and sex.
Unlike Mason.
My chest warms, and a tiny grin curls my lips before I can wipe it away.
The sooner I get down to it, the sooner I can get back to him. I turn to face Hatch and fold my legs beneath me. “So, how long are you in town for?”
His eyes dart to me, rake over my bare legs to my cut offs and then to my chest. I rejoice in silent victory that I’m wearing a bra beneath the threadbare tank. Hatch seems to notice then slides his intrusive gaze back to the TV and shrugs. “Got a little business here this weekend. Then I’ll be gone.”
I chew my bottom lip, wondering how to bring up some deeper conversation without being completely obvious. I’m about to open my mouth when he turns his eyes to me.
“You busy this weekend? I might be able to use you and a couple of the girls tomorrow night.”
“Maybe.” I shrug one shoulder. “You have associates”—I use air quotes and lift a brow—“who need entertaining?”
He reaches out and fists a handful of my hair, tugging my face to his. “Fuck, you’re cute.”
I do my best to bat my eyelashes and play coy even though I’d rather spit in his face.
He presses a quick and bristly kiss to my lips. “Yeah, babe. Associates. Important ones. You game? They pay well.”
I swallow hard, my eyes burning with the realization that I’ve just officially cheated on Mason with that kiss, but I force all that back. “Saturday nights at the club are busy. I have to work.”
“I’ll make a call. Your boss has never been able to say no to cold hard cash.”
His grip is still tight in my hair. I pull against him, only to get a tug back, reminding me who’s in charge.
“Sounds fun. You know I’ve never been one to turn down a well-paying job.” I lick my lips as my nerves get the best of me. It’s not that I think Hatch will hurt me. God knows he’s had plenty of opportunity to do so and hasn’t. But a game that was once easy for me to play has now become complicated as every choice I make revolves around Mason.
He releases my hair and runs the rough pad of his thumb along my jaw. “Been a long time since I’ve had that mouth.”
Fuck! No, no, no. I roll my lips between my teeth in an attempt to keep them away from him, but his eyes flare with hunger.
My body revolts and I sit back, putting distance between us. He glares, suspicion registering in his expression. Dammit, I’m losing him!
“It’s been a long week. I could use a few drinks.” I give him my most seductive smile, and his wariness morphs back to desire.
“Grab the six-pack and the Jager. I like how your mouth gets sloppy when you’re drunk on that shit.”
My stomach twists, but I wink and move toward the kitchen as a plan forms in my head. Jager will be perfect. I’ll be puking before the night’s through and sleeping in the bathroom.
With the door locked.
Thirty
Mason
I got out of bed on edge. My skin too tight, muscles coiled, and my head screaming.
Last night was the first night I didn’t hear from Trix.