“He’s a human being!” I snapped. “He has just as many rights not to be harassed every time he turns around as you or I do. And how dare you do this to Alec. Were you seriously just going to cheat on him?”
My cousin wiped floor dust off her butt with a humph. “You’re blind if you can’t see I just did this for you.”
“Me?” My mouth fell open. “I guess I’m totally blind then. How did you do this for me?”
“He’s not good for you. I was trying to keep him away from you.”
I sighed. “Believe it or not, E., you don’t have to bother. Mason and I are just friends.”
She snorted. “Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that, sweetie. Maybe someday our dead Grandma Dixon will actually believe it.” Searing Mason with a glare, she hissed, “You know better than to pant after her.” Then she stalked off.
Neither he nor I moved until she disappeared. Finally, he turned to face me, worry lining his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head, making a face. “For what?” I was the one who seriously needed to apologize for my asshole relative.
He lifted his hands, his expression incredulous. “I just knocked your cousin to the floor.”
If I’d been him, I would’ve kicked her while she was down there. “You don’t have to apologize for that. I’m surprised you didn’t dump her off your lap sooner.”
He still looked like he wanted to keep begging for my forgiveness.
I couldn’t help it; I felt bad for him. Stepping close, I hugged him hard. “I never meant to bring the wrath of Eva down on you.”
He gave a startled jerk in my arms. “You didn’t. I brought it on myself.”
I pulled back, aghast. “Just because you had some misguided notion when you were eighteen, thinking you had to do something drastic and unnecessary to save your family, doesn’t mean you deserve to be treated with such constant degradation by every woman who crosses your path.”
It struck me how much even I had objectified him the first few times I’d seen him, waxing poetic about his amazing looks. I had cared nothing about his personality. About him.
I wanted to beg his forgiveness for being no better than my cousin or my professor. But the intense way he stared at me gave me a moment’s pause.
He lifted his right hand and gathered a handful of hair out of my face. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before. Where did you come from, Reese Randall?”
I didn’t deserve that expression of awe he was giving me. I wanted to tell him I wasn’t really Reese Randall. I wanted to tell him everything. But this moment was about him, so I just stuck with the truth I could give. “Ellamore, Illinois.”
His smile was amused and full of adoration. My chest filled tight with an echo of that same emotion a split second before he heaved me back into his arms and hugged me again.
Burrowing his nose through my hair, he found the scar on the back of my neck. After pressing his lips to the puckered skin, he whispered, “Thank you for being my friend. But Mercer was right. I do know better than to pant after you. You should never have to deal with any of my shit.”
A second later, he sniffed and pulled away before bending down to pick up the Harry Potter book. With his things gathered, he glanced at me. “I’ll see you around,” which was Mason-speak for he was back to avoiding me.
I stood in that same spot for way too long after he disappeared down the stairs. Too many things had left me rattled. Eva’s behavior, what she’d called him, Mason’s admission to Dr. Janison that he wasn’t taking any clients, and all that talk about the girl.
I was getting in over my head here. But I just didn’t care.
I had it bad.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
That weekend started out pleasantly boring. I declined an invite from Eva to go club-hopping with her and her crew, and not just because her little scene in the library still had me ticked, but I just didn’t feel like leaving my nest. I wanted some peaceful solitude.
After E. called me a total buzzkill and hung up on me, I shrugged, curled up on my couch with some homework and popcorn, and started a marathon of my favorite movies.
When my cell phone rang a little before eleven, I was beginning to feel sleepy. I figured it was Eva again, drunk calling me, demanding I dress my ass up and come join her already. So I dawdled with reaching for the receiver.
Upon seeing Home on the caller ID, however, I suddenly wanted to bawl. I nearly attacked the phone, starved to hear my mommy’s voice. I know. I actually missed my parents. And my annoying older sister. Our cat, Doodles. Oh, and my bedroom.
I missed them all so very, very much.
I was far and gone past homesick.
“Hey, Mom,” I answered coolly, trying not to sound hella anxious to hear her voice. “Don’t worry. I’m fine. School is fine. And no, Eva hasn’t totally converted me to the dark side yet.” I poked at my nose ring, deciding not to mention that quite yet. I’d have to gauge her mood first.
“Honey.” My mother’s voice touched my ear, and it was as if I were sitting at our kitchen table again, sipping on hot chocolate with a bunch of marshmallows as we played cards and talked about our day. “I don’t want to alarm you, but…”
The hair on the back of my neck immediately stood on end.
But, no, no, no. I wasn’t alarmed.
I was totally freaked.
“What?” I demanded.
She sighed. There must not have been any way for her to cushion the blow, because she came right out and said, “Jeremy’s father found a way to get the case dropped. It’s not going to trial.”
“Oh, my God.” My vision wavered. If I hadn’t already been camped on the couch, I might have collapsed to the floor. “Oh, my God.” Did this mean I was going to be stuck as Reese Randall for the rest of my life, always checking over my shoulder, never feeling safe or settled, forever pursued by a crazed, blood-hungry maniac? “When?”
“Thursday, but listen…This isn’t a reason to worry. I don’t want you to—”
“Thursday?” I very nearly screamed. “Thursday? But…” Oh, my God. Why hadn’t she called to tell me this on Thursday? “But he was being accused of attempted murder. How could they just drop that kind of case?”
“Sweetie, his father is a very good lawyer, and—”
“Oh, God,” I moaned, feeling queasy. I’d just had to find myself a rich, spoiled lawyer’s son to have as a psycho stalker ex-boyfriend, hadn’t I?
Super. I definitely knew how to pick ‘em.
“…was broken into this evening, but—”
“Wait, what? I’m sorry, Mom. I was spacing. What was broken into this evening?”
“Our house, but—”
I exploded to my feet. “WHAT!”
“Now, this doesn’t necessarily mean it was him.”
“Of course it was him. Mother!” Wake up, woman. “Who else would it be?”
“Okay, all right.” Mom’s voice was a little too calm and placating for my taste. “You’re right. It’s a good chance it was him. Nothing was taken, though. Just a couple of papers in the office were…rifled through.”
“He’s looking for me,” I whispered, glancing around the room as if I would spot him lurking in one of the corners. He was free and clear from all legal accusations, so now he was looking for me. For revenge.
“He’s not going to find you,” Mom assured me. “We have nothing in the house to connect Reese Randall to you. The only way he could possibly find you now is through your social security number, and I swear we have every document with that information on it locked away in a security deposit box in the bank. Just to be on the safe side, however, Dad’s going to go in and change your cell phone number tomorrow. We’ll call and let Shaw and Mads know what the new number is. All right?”
When I didn’t answer soon enough—my brain was too busy whirling with thoughts—Mom repeated my name. “Reese?”
“All right,” I said, shaking my head, not quite sure what I was agreeing t
o.
But it seemed to reassure her. “See.” There was a smile in her voice. “Everything’s fine. We’re not going to let him get anywhere near you. You’re safe.”
A long sigh eased from my lungs. I had left home to stay as safe as possible. But now that danger was breaking into houses to find me, it felt as if I’d left the only place that could truly keep me protected.
I was nine hundred miles from home. Alone.
“I love you, Teresa,” Mom murmured into my ear.
As I closed my eyes tight, a single tear slid down my cheek.
Everyone had always called me Reese, ever since I’d been a baby and my older sister had found it impossible to pronounce Teresa. But it felt nice to hear my birth name spoken aloud. It had been too long; I’d begun to forget who I really was.
“I love you too, Mom.”
After I hung up, I did a thorough walkthrough of the entire apartment, flipping on every light and checking every window and closet. Under the bed. Behind the shower curtain. Then I returned to the front room, no longer sleepy in the least.
Staring sightlessly at the television screen, I jumped at every creak and groan I heard echo through my tiny apartment. I was tempted to call Eva and demand she come home to be with me. But she was probably so drunk by now, she’d bring her partying gang along with her. I certainly didn’t want a horde of strangers prowling through my loft.
When someone knocked on my door, I screamed. The pillow I’d been clutching to my chest went flying.
I scrambled off the couch and ran away from the knock, instead of toward it. Grabbing my purse, I dumped the contents on the table and fumbled through my compact and wallet before I found my mace and Taser.
“Who is it?” I called as I crept toward the door, both my hands full of girl-power weapons.
“It’s Mason.”
What?
Not believing the muffled male voice in the least—because why in the world would Mason come see me at eleven on a Saturday night?—I peeked out the closed window blinds and gaped at Hotness standing outside my apartment door.
What in the world?
Happy to see anyone who wasn’t Jeremy, and even more thrilled that ‘anyone’ ended up being Mason, I dropped the mace and Taser at my feet and went to work, opening the three locks keeping my door sealed against intruders.
By the time I threw it open, I was ready to fling myself into his arms and hug him for being here. I was so relieved I didn’t have to suffer through the rest of the night alone.
“Mason,” I gasped.
When he lifted his face, I saw instantly something was wrong. His gaze swirled with torment. “Can we talk?” he grated out. “I just…I need to talk…to someone.”
Brushing my hair out of my face, I found a piece of popcorn stuck in the tresses and batted it free. “Um…okay. Sure. Come on in.”
I began to open the door wider, but that seemed to intimidate him. He scuttled a step back and lifted his hand. “If this is a bad time, I can leave.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mason, seriously. Get inside now.” I didn’t really fancy the idea of letting my front door just hang open.
But Mr. Gigolo turned shy. He stayed rooted on the landing outside, sending me a skittish glance.
With a mutter of frustration, I grabbed his arm and tugged him into my apartment. As I bolted us inside, he paced my front room. I turned and watched him run his hands over his hair and sigh. Repeatedly. He was so distracted he didn’t even notice when I scooped up my Taser and mace off the floor and discretely tucked them away.
After he prowled around for a solid minute without even acknowledging me, I perched on the arm of my couch and folded my hands in my lap. “So…what’s up?”
He slumped down onto the couch and sprawled out, letting his head drop back against the backrest. After letting out a low groan, he admitted, “I almost got caught tonight.”
Oh, crap.
I slid off the armrest and sat next to him. Our knees almost touched, so I leaned forward and snagged my soda off the coffee table, using it as a bad imitation of a barricade.
My hands began to shake. To disguise the tremors, I took a quick drink, but immediately realized how big of a mistake that was. The carbonation in my pop made me want to heave up all the contents in my stomach.
But damn it, damn it, damn it. I’d been so sure he’d told Dr. Janison he wasn’t taking clients anymore. I thought he was stopping that lifestyle because of the girl, because of me. I thought all our flirt texting and near kisses meant we were getting close.
So how could he have almost gotten caught? Had Eva’s warning to him scared him back to the dark side?
God, I was such an idiot.
And I was not going to cry about this. No. I refused.
“You…you mean by the police?” I finally found enough oomph in my voice box to ask.
“No.” He swung his head back and forth, still staring up at a ceiling. “By a husband.”
“Holy…” I dropped the drink I was holding, and it was a miracle my lap caught it upright. I gathered it back into my hands. “Oh, my God, you sleep with married women too?”
I had to cover my mouth as if to manually shove the bile back into the depths of my stomach.
He sent me a distraught glance and began to jiggle his knee. “Most of the women who hire me are married.”
I gulped and almost gagged on the misery and pain and disappointment crowding up my esophagus. “Oh.” I was a little too busy concentrating on not bawling my head off to say much else.
My lack of response seemed to irritate him though. “Jesus, why do you think they come to me? A majority of them are bored, affluent housewives who blow all the spending money their husbands give them on younger men.”
He surged to his feet and began to pace again, yanking at handfuls of his hair until the strands stood up at odd angles. The sad thing was, even as upset and scattered as he was, he still looked as sexy as hell. And I still wanted to go to him and hug his pain away.
He kicked the door as he passed it. Then he froze and gawked a moment as if making sure he hadn’t damaged it before wincing in my direction. “Sorry.”
I shrugged and motioned for him to carry on. He could kick whatever he wanted as long as he didn’t leave a dent or hole. “Hey, at least you didn’t kick me.”
That comment seemed to shock him. “Why would I kick you?”
“I don’t know.” Suddenly uneasy, I took a big sip. This time, the caffeine settled my stomach instead of upsetting it. He was still watching me, so I fluttered out my hand in a useless gesture. “Sometimes people feel the need to hurt other people in a way to show their power. And you’re obviously feeling powerless with no control of your own life right now, so—”
He was by my side and sitting next to me before I could complete my explanation. “I would never kick you, Reese. Why would you even think…” He shook his head, and then bowed his face and squeezed his eyes shut. “I shouldn’t have come here.”
“No.” I reached out and caught his knee. “It’s fine. Really. I mean, if you need to get something off your chest, then…let it out. It’s not like you can talk to just anyone about this. And we’re friends, so…”
He looked up and studied me, his gaze pleading for some kind of deliverance.
But as he stared, his features collapsed. “Do you know I’ve never had sex just for the hell of it, just to have a little recreational fun with a partner of my choice? I have always, always been propositioned and paid. I’ve never gotten to decide when or where, or how, or with whom. I’ve never—”
“Then have recreational sex,” I said, frowning because I couldn’t see why this was so upsetting. Not for him anyway. The idea of him having recreational sex—without me involved—was incredibly upsetting for me. Sure. But we weren’t talking about me. This was about him. “Nothing is stopping you from giving out your…freebies.”
Mason pulled back as if I’d slapped him. “That wouldn’t be fair to the girl.
It wouldn’t be fair to me. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone.”
Oh.
Hmm.
So he was a gigolo with starch standards. Damn, another thing I had to admire about him. More than admire, actually.
With a burst of clarity, I realized he wasn’t a man-whore at all. In fact, if he’d never fallen into this lifestyle, I bet he’d be the commitment type, the one-woman man who never strayed or stayed in a relationship for less than two years.
He’d be perfect boyfriend material.
It was a wonder some girl hadn’t snagged him up before—
“Wait.” I shook my head when another thought struck. “Even your first time was—”
He made a sour face. “My landlady. She offered to knock off the back rent we owed if I…relented. Threatened eviction if I didn’t. She’s actually the one who set me up with meeting other women and got me hired at the Country Club.”
My eyes could’ve popped out of their sockets. “You mean Mrs. Garrison? So she’s like, what, your pimp?”
He huffed out a scoff. “Pimp? Yeah, I guess, in a manner of speaking. She…hey, how do you know her name?”
I shrugged. “She told me. I ran across her smoking outside when I left your house one night after babysitting.”
“Damn it.” And he was back on his feet with the pacing again. Seriously, the boy was going to run me dizzy. “I told her to leave you alone.”
“You did?” Well, that was alarming. “When did you do that? And why were you discussing me with your landlady?”
“Because she’s seen you coming and going and you’re…” He threw out a hand to motion toward me as if I should be able to finish that sentence.
I couldn’t. Straightening, I pressed my palm to my chest, already offended. “I’m what?”
“You’re…beautiful,” he muttered, turning away. “So, naturally, she thinks you and I…”
“Yeah.” I nodded and rolled my hand. “I got that part.”
Mason scrubbed his face, moaning. “God, I really hate this sometimes. Sometimes, I just want to quit it all.”
My heart skipped a beat. Hope sprung eternal. “Then quit. Quit it right now.”