Scorched (The Frenemy Series Book 4) Read online

  Scorched

  Kate Benson

  cOPYRIGHT © 2020 BY KATE BENSON ALL RIGHTS RESERVED NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED OR TRANSMITTED IN ANY FORM OR BY ANY MEANS, ELECTRONIC OR MECHANICAL, INCLUDING PHOTOCOPYING, RECORDING, OR BY ANY INFORMATION STORAGE AND RETRIEVAL SYSTEM WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THE AUTHOR, EXCEPT FOR THE USE OF BRIEF QUOTATIONS IN A BOOK REVIEW. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Editing and formatting by Chasing Sophie Publications © 2020

  also by kate benson

  The Promise Series

  The Promise

  The Choice

  The Secret

  The Commitment

  The Compromise

  The Sacrifice

  The Confession

  The Redemption Series (The Vault)

  *A spin-off of The Promise Series*

  Redemption: Part One

  Redemption: Part Two

  Redemption: Part Three

  Redemption: Part Four

  Redemption: Part Five

  Redemption: Part Six

  Redemption: The Complete Series

  The Frenemy Series

  frigid

  sprung

  fallen

  scorched

  Ignite Series

  Ignite

  Smolder

  The Callie Leveaux Series

  The Callie Leveaux Series: The Novellas

  Traitor

  Standalone Novels

  Beyond the Pine

  Pieces of You

  What the Elf?

  Never miss a climax.

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  This one is for Mason.

  Those two never get in a hurry for anyone and you were no exception.

  I hope the journey getting to your book was as much fun for you as it was for me, sugar.

  “She drives me crazy,

  like no one else.

  She drives me crazy,

  and I can’t help myself.”

  -Fine Young Cannibals

  table of contents

  also by kate benson

  Stalk the author:

  table of contents

  chapter one

  chapter two

  chapter three

  chapter four

  chapter five

  chapter six

  chapter seven

  chapter eight

  chapter nine

  chapter ten

  chapter eleven

  chapter twelve

  chapter thirteen

  chapter fourteen

  chapter fifteen

  chapter sixteen

  chapter seventeen

  chapter eighteen

  chapter nineteen

  chapter twenty

  chapter twenty-one

  chapter twenty-two

  chapter twenty-three

  chapter twenty-four

  chapter twenty-five

  chapter twenty-six

  chapter twenty-seven

  chapter twenty-eight

  epilogue

  about the author

  acknowledgments

  chapter one

  mason

  The sound of the front door slamming shut forces my eyes to pop open instantly. The inevitable stinging that follows is barely acknowledged as my legs swing from my mattress and pull my body out of the bed.

  “Mason!” The sound of his muffled voice through my bedroom door is as surprising as it is arrogant. When he grows louder at my silence, I can’t help but stumble over my feet. “Mase! It’s time to wake up, man!”

  Motherfucker.

  I knew he’d come for me.

  Approximately twenty-two seconds later, I swing my bedroom door open and find the low blaze of the morning sun illuminating his smug grin.

  “Happy housewarming, sugar,” he sings from his place in the middle of the foyer. “Don’t bother putting any coffee on. I brought my own.”

  He lifts the paper cup he’s holding with glee that rivals the way he looks at the mother of his children – my sister – and comes to a brief stop before he glances over his shoulder and finds me still staring out into the living room.

  “Jesus Christ,” I manage, my voice still hoarse with the memory of sleep. “What time is it?”

  “Early, man,” he admits, the smugness still staining every inch of his deep timbre. “Really fuckin’ early.”

  “Why would you -?”

  “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this day, Mason,” he cuts me off, the exhilarated sigh leaving his chest only annoying me further. “Rearranged my whole week to make the drive up for this.”

  “Of course, you did.”

  “I gotta say, I was a little surprised that my key still worked. I figured the first thing you’d do once you bought the place is change the locks.”

  “It’s only been eighteen hours since I signed the papers,” I remind him, coming to a stop a few steps away and staring out into the front yard before I push the front door shut and amble into the living room behind him. “And I closed down the bar last night.”

  “It’s kind of nice out this early. Not to mention, traffic was a breeze,” he says, completely ignoring my words as he sips from his cup. “It’ll probably suck on the way back, but I might just have to make this a sporadic hobby,” he muses, the steam doing little to camouflage the arrogance on his lips. “Oh, karma…” he trails off in a lofty sigh. “She’s a real petty bitch, ain’t she?”

  “Asshole,” I ground out, my irritation muffled by his amusement and we make our way into the kitchen. “Where is everyone else?”

  “Solo trip,” he explains, following me toward the bar. “The twins have a playdate with one of the chick’s that Evie worked with at the gallery and she’s fuckin’ exhausted, so she would have kicked me out of the apartment for a few hours today anyway so she and the baby could nap.”

  I glance up at him from my usual place at the counter, grateful for the swiftness of the new coffeemaker my mom had given me as a gift yesterday after we’d signed all the papers and made it official.

  The only thing faster than this coffee pot was how fast she had that Uber in the driveway, I think to myself with an inward smirk as I take a long, much needed sip from the cup and release a low sigh of appreciation before I reply.

  “You look like you could use a nap, too,” I offer, taking in his unruly dark hair. “And a haircut. What the fuck are you doing with your life, man?”

  “Evie’s touching up the fade tonight once the kids go to bed,” he admits with a nod of agreement as he runs his palm over the longer-than-usual stubble. “And I’m fuckin’ busy, man. In case you forgot, I’ve got three kids, a crazy girlfriend and a wedding coming up.”

  “Yeah? You been spending a lot of time helping Eve plan?” I smirk, knowing better. “You have lots of long nights of floral design and table settings under your belt now, do you?”

  “Oh, there have been some long nights,” he winks suggestively, chuckling in triumph as he wipes the sarcastic smirk off my face. “And I’ve been listening to your sister talking about aisle markers and seating charts non-stop for a fucking year. That’s enough to make anyone want to rip their hair out. If I didn’t think Evie and your mother would disown me, I’d have begged for a cour
thouse wedding the second we got back from Aspen to avoid this shit,” he corrects me with an affectionate chuckle. We both know better. He gave me hell for years, but he’s ruined that girl ten times worse than we ever did. “Speaking of, where is your mom?”

  “Florida.”

  “Already?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Damn. She didn’t waste much time.”

  “She was halfway through baggage claim before the ink dried, bro,” I smirk, sipping once more.

  “She’s going to be back in time for wedding, right?” he asks, renewed worry seeping into his features. “Your sister will freak the fuck out if she’s not here.”

  “Yeah, she’s just down there for a couple days to finish getting her new place set up. She had to get down there to sign the last of the papers,” I explain. “I’m picking her up from the airport on Friday.”

  He nods his approval and polishes off the last of his coffee, moving toward the coffee maker to help himself to a refill. I watch him drain the last of the steaming pot, shaking my head when he glances over at me with a wide, entertained beam at the sight of the last few drops trickling out of the urn and into his cup.

  “This is some good coffee, Mase,” he remarks, chuckling when I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a low growl. “You really should get another pot going so you can have a little more before you try and get your day started,” he continues, mussing my hair. “Really get in there, bro.”

  “I’ll do that,” I reply flatly, ignoring his smile.

  He stands in front of me, sipping his stolen coffee with more enthusiasm than I’ve ever seen from him – maybe even when his children were born – and his low laughter slowly turns into a sigh of pleasure that makes me want to affectionately launch my now empty cup at his forehead. Asshole. I’m about to tell him as much when he takes a step forward and offers me a brotherly pat on the shoulder, cutting me off.

  “Alright, man. You look good and awake,” he yawns. “I’ll see you around.”

  “You’re leaving already?”

  “Hell yeah, I’m leaving. I’ve got a ton of shit to do today. I need to get back on the road if I’m going to beat the traffic back to Austin,” he replies. “I just wanted to come do this first.”

  “One would almost suggest you could’ve done this another time,” I reply with my own saccharin sweetness. “Perhaps much, much later in the day.”

  “Nah,” he waves me off, still smiling far too wide for my taste. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, sugar.”

  “You’re such a dick,” I insist, this time, unable to smother the laughter bubbling up in his chest.

  “It’s true. I really am,” he winks. “I’ll see ya, brother.”

  “See ya,” I answer, following him toward the door. “Maybe when I do, you’ll enlighten me as to why you’ve grown so petty toward your only friend.”

  My words cause his feet to slow just slightly and he glances over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

  “You’re not the only one, you’re just my favorite, dear,” he says, blowing me a kiss. “And you know why, Mason,” he promises. “Don’t act like you haven’t had this comin’ for years. You were raised better than to try and bullshit a bullshitter, King.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I wave him off, fond memories of our my early morning drop-ins when he still lived nearby making me smile despite my exhaustion.

  He makes his way to the driveway, whistling the hook to an eighties song I can’t put my finger on and as my steps falter, I glance back up in time to see his smug expression tell me that was by design. The bastard just made a four-hour round trip to irritate the fuck out of me. The door swings open and he slips his sunglasses back on, turning to face me.

  “Congrats on the house, man. All bullshit aside, I’m really happy for you,” he says, this time his voice more genuine as he hesitates at the driver’s side of his Mustang, Sue. “You’re still coming Monday, right?”

  “Yeah,” I nod, the song stuck in my head still nagging at me. “I tried for Sunday instead, but the She-Devil said it was a no-go.”

  “Monday’s good,” he shrugs the complaint off. “Don’t be late, though. Evie’s full-on right now, bro.”

  “Yep,” I agree, the glaring memory of her new scheduling obsession from our last phone conversation slamming me in the face. “Eleven-fifteen sharp.”

  “Right,” he confirms. “And speaking of, don’t try any sneaky ass shit.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “With Alex,” he says immediately, brow raised. “You promised your sister you’d wait for her to bring all that wedding shit your moms got stashed in the garage. Don’t come up there on Monday with some bullshit story that you forgot you were supposed to wait for her. This is your official reminder.”

  “Why would I do that?” I ask, my voice hitching with the lie, deflated knowing he’d caught on to what I thought was a rock-solid plan.

  “Why do you do anything?” he counters with a shrug. “I know you’re still all butt hurt because she rejected you-”

  “That’s not why,” I cut him off, making him roll his eyes in disbelief. “What? I barely even remembered that, dude.”

  “Whatever. It’s your story, you tell it how you want to, just act right this week. You’ll hardly even see her.”

  “I have a hard time believing that.”

  “And I have a hard time believing you ever get laid dressing the way you do, but you say it happens,” he shrugs, sipping from his cup. I’m about to snap something back at him, but he cuts me off with his wide, sarcastic beam. “Have a nice day, dear.”

  I stand alone in the doorway, cursing my decision to not change the locks before my shift last night.

  The sound of his Mustang cranking shakes me back to full attention and I push the door shut for the second time in a half hour and shake my head.

  “Of all the petty shi-” My words come to a complete halt as I hum the melody he’d jammed into my cortex only a few moments ago and my feet slow at the edge of the living room. “Karma Chameleon by Boy George.”

  chapter two

  alex

  I can’t remember ever being so tired.

  I’m sure it’s happened and I’m probably being more than a little dramatic – it’s a trait I’ve been accused of more than once, though I still say those reports were both wildly inaccurate and completely unfounded. But as the glare from the sun spreads over my eyes and jolts me awake, the thought comes pretty hard to ignore.

  Last night was another late one at the bar, same as most of them. Although it had gone a little smoother than some, it definitely could have gone better. Being home before four this morning would have been a great start. Yet, as I stretch my limbs out over the stark white comforter I spent way too much money on, I can’t help but be grateful I’m due back at the bar again tonight.

  Life might be easier when you’re on your own, but it also tends to ride on the razors edge of lonesome and boring.

  Before I moved here, I was never a ‘sit and watch life pass you by’ kind of girl. I much more preferred to jump in head-first, take it by the horns, ride it ‘til the wheels fall off and all that. But when I left my hometown of Austin just shy of two years ago following a string of bad breakups and more heartache than I knew what to do with, I’ve had to take a more lowkey approach to things. To be more blunt about it, that little spark that used to light me on fire burnt out and I haven’t figured out a way to relight it yet.

  You’d think I’d have adjusted by now, but it’s amazing how tragic shit can have you set in your ways before you hit thirty.

  I didn’t think I’d get crochety for at least a couple more decades, but here I am – lying swaddled in my overpriced bedding, cursing bladders and obligation.

  Meh, I think to myself. At least I’m not still screwing losers.

  I nuzzle back into the thick, down comforter, resting my face against its cool surface like I’m a baby bear snuggling her mama for the first time. When m
y body is no longer compliant with being ignored, I force myself from its comfort with a groan.

  I shuffle into the bathroom and yawn in front of the mirror and reach for my toothbrush, admiring the way my bedhead rests against my shoulders. I start my morning pep-talk, one of the new rituals I’d picked up, and once I’ve blown all the smoke I can muster, I bend to rinse and move toward the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Marvin,” I sing, my slightly scratchy voice singing the words as I switch on the light and start a pot of coffee. “Did you have a good night last night?”

  The soft twill of his golden tail inside the water is the only answer I’m given and I reach for his food, sprinkling a little into the top of the bowl, smiling like a dork when he rushes to the surface.

  “He’s a good boy,” I commend him before I turn to work on my own breakfast.

  The still-empty dining room area judges me, and I remind myself for the umpteenth time to look for a table and pull myself up onto the counter behind me.

  “Do you think I should spring for one, Marv?” I ask my gilded companion, using my spoon to push the flakes into the milk, saturating them. “On one hand, I’m the only one who’s probably ever going to get any use out of the thing, but on the other, I’m a good person. Why shouldn’t I have a nice place to sit and enjoy the few dinners I’m able to eat at home?” I wait for a reply and take the bubbles as an acknowledgement before I continue. “Don’t be ridiculous, Marvin. Of course, I would move you into the dining room. I know I made a big deal out of us seeing other people, but if we’re being honest, you’re probably the closest thing I’m ever going to have to a boyfriend ever again.” I take another bite this time with less enthusiasm, and the smell of coffee filling the apartment makes my chest flurry with contentment. “It’s settled then. I’ll order one today. We can set it up when I get back from my trip.” I start to slip from the counter and hesitate, my eyes facing his big, blue eyes once more as I set my bowl down beside me. “I know I say it every week, but this time I mean it. Don’t sass me, Marv. We’re all we’ve got. We have to stick together, buddy.”