God, I loved the alley.
Mason eyes me for a moment, then reaches out and takes the drink out of my hand. He sets it on the bar and stands, pulling out his wallet. “Go for a ride with me, yeah? I’ll bring you back here. I just . . . I want to talk to you and drive around the city. I’ve been thinking about doing that.” He throws some cash down, tucks his wallet back into his pocket, and grabs my hand.
With a gentle tug, I’m on my feet.
“You’re taller tonight,” he observes, smiling down at my shoes. “I recognize those.”
I grab my clutch off the bar. “And you’re a bit bossy.”
His brow pulls together. He looks charmingly confused.
I fight the urge to smile as I explain. “I never agreed to go for a ride with you. You did that adorable little ‘yeah’ thing and took my drink away. Were you even going to wait for my answer? Maybe I’m not ready to leave. Maybe I want to finish my very coconuty drink and spend some time with my mates. Ever think about that?”
I think he wants to smile. I believe I see a slight twitch in his mouth, but he covers it immediately, or I’m simply imagining things.
Am I not as funny as I think I am?
“I’m sorry.” He drops my hand. His eyes roam the room. “Right. That was a bit bossy of me. Would you rather we stay here? I thought a drive would be nice. I’ll be able to hear you better. I’d like to hear you.”
A strange tightness pulls at my chest.
Shit. Even in his high-handedness, his intentions are sweet.
“It’s fine. We can . . .”
A body bumps against my back. I brace myself with a hand to Mason’s chest to keep myself from falling. His grip holds tight on my waist, tighter as I slowly lift my head to look at him. I turn to get a glance at the creep who shoved me into this tall piece of manly deliciousness.
I should thank them.
Paul sways on his feet behind me. He’s clearly intoxicated.
Whatever. I don’t hold any ill-will toward any of the men I’ve slept with. I’m sure him knocking into me was purely accidental. No doubt brought on by the alcohol. Look at him. He can barely stand.
He grabs the bar to steady himself, grinning wildly. “Brooke! Funny . . . funny seeing you again, isn’t it? God, I really didn’t think that was you.”
He didn’t think that was me? I just saw him a few days ago. How drunk is this guy?
“Uh, yeah, it’s me. Small world.” I push against Mason’s chest. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Paul keeps going.
“I thought . . . nah, that’s not Brooke. No way! She should be hanging on a street corner.”
I whip my head around. “Excuse me.”
“A street corner.” Paul leans closer, tilting his head with a sneer. “You know. Like a whore.”
My body goes rigid. Mason tenses behind me.
Paul, you stupid fucking idiot. You asked for this.
MASON
“You know. Like a whore.”
Brooke inhales a quick breath. Her eyes go round, taking up the majority of her face.
The fuck did he just say?
I move to get closer to this piece of shit, putting myself in front of Brooke. “Hey, fuck off, mate.”
His head jerks up, his eyes rapidly blinking me into focus. He’s barely keeping himself upright. One hand is flat on the bar, the other is clutching the stool Brooke was just occupying.
He’s so tanked he’ll probably end up falling over soon.
“No.” Brooke darts a hand out and grabs my arm, halting me. “No, let me.” She steps in front of the bastard. “I’m sorry, Paul. What exactly makes me a whore? Was it the fact that I had sex with you the other night, which I’m now suddenly regretting, or was it that you got your pathetic little feelings hurt when I didn’t want to cuddle after?” Her hand flies to her hip. “Are you sad because I didn’t want to go for round two? Is that it? Is that why you look like shit right now, Paul?”