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So, I trudged to work behind him—half an hour late, I might add because he wouldn’t let me walk across the alleyway behind his little bungalow by myself to the garage.
After last night, I could barely sleep. I don’t think I dozed off until the sun was starting to crest on the horizon and even then, it was fitful.
I know there are men stationed around to watch the place. The house, the garage. It’s all secure. I just . . .
Who was that guy?
How does he know Missy and how does he know where I live? More importantly, why is he showing up to kill me in the dead of night?
One thing about having a sister on the run from the law and whoever else is after her, is that I am sure to be expected to carry the blame for some of that. While I’m accustomed to taking the fall for Missy, I’mnotused to people being so blatantly hateful toward me. Like Savannah last night. She hates me. I can feel it. The damned pope can feel it.
I’m sure Mason can.
Why he’s letting me crash at his place, I’ll never begin to understand, but I’m grateful, all the same.
When I was lying awake last night, desperately trying to fall asleep, I thought that when I woke up, I was going to realize it was all one long, fucked-up dream.
But . . . no cigar.
Instead, I woke up surrounded byhisscent inhisbed inhishouse.
Now, it’s messing with my head.
Try as I might, I can’t deny this . . . attraction to Mason. Maybe it’s because, to everyone else, he’s dangerous. But to me, he means safety.
I don’t want to read too much into it, but that’s exactly what I laid awake last night and did. How sweet he was when he carried me to the couch. How he brought me water, even though I hadn’t thought of it myself. How he’d all but forced me to intrude on his space because he wanted me to be safe.
There’s something there. Just not something that will ever end well.
But damned if I don’t daydream about it.
I spend my lunch break getting slushies from the corner store down the road for everyone because, let’s face it, there’s only so much you can do in an office and Mason only lets me out to play with the big kids when it’s just him and I.
I know I’ll probably be in trouble, even before I make it back to the shop. When I walk in the front door and find Mason standing at the counter, talking on his phone and looking like he’s going to pop a blood vessel in his neck, I know without a doubt.
“She’s here.”
He ends the call, setting his phone on the counter a little too hard.
“You’re going to break that,” I tell him, handing him a cherry slushie. I know he likes cherry because he said it once, a long time ago.
Hopefully, that’s still the case.
He takes the slushie, albeit a little too roughly.
“If the lid pops off, I’m not mopping it up,” I grumble.
He looks like he’s either going to kill me or fuck me. Maybe both, knowing him.
I set my bag back in its spot, wincing before I stand because I know he’s pissed.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe, before I even look at him. “It’s hot. I needed some air and I knew you guys would be boiling out there.”
He takes a step forward and I step back.
God, he really is tall, isn’t he?
My back hits the counter and I have to arch my neck to look at him. It’s a mistake. I should have just looked at his nipples because his eyes tell a different story to what’s really going on in his head.
