Scorched (The Frenemy Series Book 4) Page 10

  I bite the inside of my lip and the memory of him pressing me into the wall of the elevator and kissing me hard assaults my senses. His hands were everywhere … girl, everywhere … and I couldn’t have wanted it more. If I hadn’t been so drunk, my decision making quite so hasty, I’d have been able to wait the three minutes to make it back to his room and he’d have definitely had me doing a lot more than bruising my knees in a hallway.

  Even now, despite my mortification, I’d let this plaid wearing bastard rock my motherfucking world.

  Instead, I sucked his dick like a drunk succubus, passed out in his hotel room and bolted before dawn.

  There’s a tiny part of my inner demon that tells me I should go for it, just admit defeat and stop denying my body the thing it craves. The bigger part of me knows, however, that sucking a guys dick next to a stairwell with the ice machine clunking behind us just isn’t me. Anyone could have walked in there at any given moment. We could’ve been caught. We could have been fucking arrested last night and for what? Because I was so drunk and horny, I couldn’t wait to walk ten more steps to his room? And what if I had? I’m not the girl who fucks her employees, certainly not this employee – the bane of my existence – and acts like nothing happened.

  I used to think I was. I thought for a long time that I was this free-spirited girl who was born thirty years too late and should be dancing in a field to “If I Were A Carpenter” and advocating for the rights of free love. I found out the fast and hard way, though, that my heart can’t handle the same from another. I feel too deep, too fast and it always results in me being the one with a broken heart. Last time, it was so unbearable, I had to leave town altogether.

  Even if this was the same – which it isn’t – I can’t go through that again.

  I’m hatching a redo to the second part of my escape plan, my feet planted firmly enough to push the chair out from under me into a mind-burning nudge when he whips his head back around to face me.

  “Hey,” he cuts me off, pulling my attention back to him. Oh, no. “Did you…? No,” he shakes his head, laughing at himself for a moment before he stops altogether and freezes his eyes on my shaking frame. “We didn’t…” he trails off. “No, that can’t be right,” he reassures himself, his cheeks blazing just slightly for a moment before he returns his hesitant gaze to mine. “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he says immediately, shaking his head clear. “Weird dream, I guess.” I stare back at him, halfway hoping he goes on and halfway hoping the floor opens up and swallows me whole just so I can evade this conversation. “You were, uh…” he stumbles, clears his throat. “You were a flying nun or something...” he trails off, his hands moving awkwardly around his head, trying to mime the shape of a habit to cement his awkward lie. “You were wearing this…”

  I stare back at him, both of us knowing he’s full of shit as his ears begin to heat crimson and that’s when it hits me.

  Mason doesn’t remember what happened last night.

  He thinks it was a dream.

  “Are you ready to go?” I ask, desperate to change the subject, change my name and my whole identity if that’s what it takes to get out of this situation.

  “Yeah,” he mumbles, his eyes still locked onto a blank spot on the wall before he glances back over at me. “Yeah, we should probably head over there.”

  We make our way out into the parking lot and come to a stop at the front of his car, his scrutinizing gaze falling on me much more than I’d like to admit.

  There’s a small part of me – a very small part that I’ll never admit out loud to – that takes offense to sucking a guy off and finding out they have almost no memory of it the next morning. However, this is definitely for the best. Especially this week. And especially with this particular guy.

  Escape plan part four strategy: survive the week with Mason thinking he’s just a pervert who had a weird sex dream about his boss.

  It’s bad enough that I have to live with the truth of what actually went down in this hotel last night.

  I’ll be damned if anyone else ever finds out.

  I just have to act cool, admit nothing and take this shit to my grave.

  I can totally handle that.

  We approach our respective doors and I wait for the gentle click of the lock releasing before I lift the handle. I’m moving slightly, trying to get settled when I feel his gaze on me again as he settles beside me, this time silently questioning. I risk another glance over at him and just like before, his hazel eyes are still confused, his ears blazing an all new shade of red as his eyes dart to my mouth and his lips part.

  “What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” he lies, cranking the ignition before he shakes his head clear once more. “It’s nothing.”

  chapter fourteen

  mason

  “Wow, you guys look terrible,” Evie says as she swings the door open, her nose scrunching up in judgmental amusement. “What the hell happened?”

  “Whiskey for me, tequila for her,” I admit with a slightly painful groan, kissing her cheek as I step passed her and sluggishly make my way into the apartment.

  While she and Alex have a quick moment of hello’s in the doorway, I try my best to focus on the twins who are directly in front of me instead of the nonsensical flashes I’ve been fighting against since my eyes popped open less than an hour and a half ago.

  None of it made sense, not from the second I walked into that hotel bar until I woke up this morning. Sure, there are bits and pieces that I can recall from my late night, temporary truce with Alex. However, I can’t imagine anyone serving us enough alcohol to warrant a dream like that. I mean, holy shit. I’ve met gymnasts who don’t bend like that.

  I shake my head clear, very carefully, and lower onto the floor in front of me, trading ringlets and dimples for whatever sadistic tryst I was drugged into dreaming last night. I’m nearly out of the woods when the familiar sound of heavy boots jolt me back.

  “Woof,” he snickers, pulling my bloodshot gaze to his.

  “Good morning to you, too,” I reply dryly, making his eyebrows crease slightly.

  “You fuckin’ reek, dude,” he chuckles. “It’s ten a.m. Why don’t we shut the distillery down for the night, bro?”

  “It’s mouthwash,” I deadpan.

  “Unless you rinsed with Beam this morning, I’m gonna have to call bullshit.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I counter. “You know I’m a Daniels man.”

  “Yeah, you’re right about that,” he shrugs, rebalancing the baby against his chest as he offers me a hand getting to my feet and gives my arm a heavy, nausea inducing pat. “Anyway, you still stink. Change your mouthwash and learn to lie better,” he smirks. “Are you about ready?”

  “Yeah,” I nod, restraining a yawn. “What are we doing today?”

  “About that-”

  “Alright, you guys. It’s time to get the hell out,” Evie declares, taking the baby from Dash as she gives him a quick kiss and pushes him toward the door. “You’re going to be late for your appointment and then we’ll be late for ours and it won’t stop until we’re dead. Let’s go.”

  “Where’s the appointment?” I ask again, following him to the doorway, untrusting of the contradicting expressions they’re wearing, particularly Dash’s of annoyance. “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t be a jerk about this, baby. We had a deal.”

  “I know that,” he grounds out, shaking his head. “Have I been late to anything yet?”

  “No, and that’s because I’ve been kind enough to nag the shit out of you.”

  “It’s not a courtesy if you’re not asked to do it,” he reminds her, gripping her chin to give her a quick kiss. “Stop being annoying.”

  “Do what I ask, and I’ll think about it,” she promises, giving him another quick peck on the lips before she pulls away from him. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

  He makes his way to the concrete platform outside their
door and turns to face her swiftly, eyebrow cocked in warning.

  “You remember our deal?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Evie Grace,” he shakes his head, glaring at her despite her eye roll. “I do this for you, you take it to the fucking grav-”

  “Yes, I know. I said I would,” she cuts him off, pushing him toward the stairs once more. “I love you so much. Get out of my face.”

  “I love you, too,” he replies, releasing a deep sigh as the door shuts behind us. He groans, pinches the bridge of his nose and hisses out a few fucks before he gestures for me to follow him. “C’mon, man.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “I’ll tell you in the car.”

  *

  “This is fucking stupid,” I declare, shifting uncomfortably in the chair, shaking my head. “You know, I expected for shit to change a little when one of us settled down, but this isn’t what was supposed to happen, man.”

  He glances over, his dark eyebrow lifting to its signature location, primed and ready to unload whatever bullshit argument he’s got, but I cut him off.

  “You used to jump out of planes, Dash,” I whisper, my eyes likely as sad and defeated as my voice sounds. “We used to party until dawn, dude. We were legends and now?” I continue, taking in the smooth, marbled surface in front of us, the feel of the cool tile on my feet as my toes splay in ways I’ve never experienced. My eyes move back to his, slightly glossy with emotion. “What the hell happened to you, bro?”

  “I grew the fuck up, Mase,” he deadpans. “What’s your problem today?”

  “I don’t have a problem.”

  “Bullshit,” he smirks, turning to face me. “You’ve been in a funky ass mood ever since you got to the apartment this morning.”

  “I’m hungover.”

  “Nah, it ain’t that,” he shakes his head. “I’ve seen you hungover a thousand times and there’s something else going on with you today. You’ve been acting weirder than your usual.” I start to disagree, but he cuts me off. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me shit, but don’t lie to me, man. You know we ain’t about that life.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I sigh, leaning back in the seat. “It’s nothing. I just had a fucked-up dream last night and it’s been messing with me.”

  “Fucked up how?” I glance over at him, my best friend, and consider if I should say anything. “What was it about?”

  “Nothing. It was stupid,” I say again. “And it doesn’t mean shit anyway.”

  “If it was stupid and doesn’t mean shit, why are you being weird about it?”

  “I’m not being weird,” I counter, jaw set in annoyance we both know he’s making worse but doesn’t care about. “I think it was about Alex.”

  “Yeah? Why’s that stupid?” he asks, my immediate discomfort making him smirk suddenly. “Aw, shit. There go the ears.”

  “What?”

  “Mason had a sex dream,” he smirks, chuckling when the technician’s laughter makes my ears burn redder with embarrassment. “Was it a good one?”

  “Dude, you’re marrying my sister in like three days.”

  “So, what?” he asks with a chuckle. “I’m not the one having the freaky sex dreams about her best friend.”

  “I didn’t ask for it.”

  “And yet, here we are,” he sighs, shaking his head before he glances over at me with a look of cocky triumph. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “What the hell am I talking about?” he snorts, eyes widening when I nod. “Do you not remember how you reacted when you found out about me and your sister?”

  “First of all, she’s my sister,” I reply immediately. “Second of all, that wasn’t a sex dream. You were actually fucking her.”

  “Yeah, I was,” he sighs, pleased with himself as he glances back over at me with a wink. “Still am.”

  “Clearly not the same thing,” I insist. “And P.S. fuck off.”

  “Well, for what it’s worth, I definitely dreamt about it a few times before we made shit official,” he admits, laughing at my answering glare. “We came up with some pretty great shit thanks to those dreams. There was this one where I-”

  “Alright!” I shout, cutting him off and pulling a loud, pleased laugh from his chest. “Anyway, who cares about the dream, right?” I ask, both of us shrugging in unison. “It just… I’m having a hard time looking at her today.”

  “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you’re looking at this sexy mug then, huh?” he replies with a shrug. “Don’t worry about it, man. It was just a sex dream. That kind of shit happens to everyone.”

  “I’ve never had one-”

  “Bull-fuckin’-shit,” he cuts me off, his laughter deep and mocking, completely unwavering despite the half-dozen eyes now staring at us in judgment. “What’d I just tell you about lying to me?”

  “That felt that real,” I finish my sentence, rolling my eyes. “You didn’t let me finish.”

  “Well, hopefully she did,” he shrugs again, his expression pleased with the clever remark. “Just chill out. Who cares? We never get to hang out anymore. Just enjoy the day, bro.”

  “Yeah, we’re having a real bro day,” I snort. “Y’know, you used to blow shit out of proportion and even now, I’ll lie through my teeth if you tell her I said this, but I’m starting to think you’re right about Evie being a little nuts. She’s losing her shit about this wedding,” I admit, shaking my head as I take in our surroundings. “This shit’s fucked, Dash.”

  “Hate to say I told you so,” he smirks, waving the words off immediately before he leans back into his own seat, relaxing a little easier than he maybe should. “Anyway, I know it’s not skydiving, but she’s got a point.”

  “Dude, don’t.”

  “Mason, I work under cars all day and you look like you haven’t clipped your shit since 1987,” he gestures toward my feet, making my nostrils flare. “She wants a nice wedding and I want to keep getting laid. I did what I had to do.” He leans back against the padded chair, smiling courteously at the older woman a quarter his size as she releases his hand and gestures for him to take a look. “Looks awesome, Tammi,” he smiles, making her beam brightly in gratitude as she slides her stool over a few inches to begin working on me.

  “Ouch!” I blurt as her hand runs over the bottom of my foot and cringing at the stabbing reminder of this morning on my heel.

  “Dude, what’s your problem now?” Dash asks, his expression shifting judgmentally as she lifts my foot awkwardly from the bubbling water. “You look nuts.”

  “I’m not alone, man,” I say with a condescending smile as I take him in, shaking my head.

  “What happened?” she asks, inspecting the red mark on my foot.

  “I stabbed myself in the foot this morning,” I tell her, watching her eyes narrow awkwardly. “Not on purpose.”

  “How the fuck did you do that?” Dash asks.

  “There was an earring or something stuck in the carpet. They must’ve missed it when they were cleaning.”

  “Ew,” he says, his face scrunching up. “You’re probably gonna catch the herps now, dude.”

  “And you’ve probably had ‘em for years,” I tease. “You can be my spirit guide.”

  “Hmm, that’s funny,” he smiles smugly. “You know what else is funny?”

  “What?”

  “Your mom called this morning and offered to babysit when she gets in from the airport.”

  “What’s so funny about that?”

  “We haven’t had a babysitter since Evie was in the hospital having Miles.”

  “So?”

  “So, these kids don’t fuckin’ sleep and I’m running out of creative ideas that aren’t going to cost me a fortune in therapy,” he snorts as the amusement leaves my face completely and I shake my head at him. “Your sister’s been pumping for two weeks so she can get white girl wasted at this party Friday night and I’m not about a mis
sed opportunity,” he says bluntly. “We’re gonna need a fucking babysitter and there’s a good chance you’re gonna need to make a friend on Friday night because that hotel’s booked up and I’ve got no problems kicking you out of your room if it’s what has to be done.”

  “The hell I am!” I argue. “What about our relationship makes you think I’m going to help you take advantage of my drunk sister?”

  “Hey, man. Your sister’s the skeeve,” he chuckles. “She asked your mom to babysit a month ago and it was her idea to steal your room,” he admits. “If it comes down to it, I’m gonna need you to take one for the team, man,” he continues, ignoring my dismay. I’m about to laugh in his face, tell him there’s a limit to my support. However, as his eyes return to mine, all traces of his kindness leave his face as he raises his nails an inch away from his lips and blows against them. “It’s happening, Mason,” he promises. “Now stop being a little bitch and pick a fuckin’ color.”

  *

  Once we finish one of the weirdest guys trips of our friendship, we head back to the apartment, eager to turn on the game to even shit out. Before Evie and Alex have even made it all the way downstairs, I’ve already popped open a beer and made myself comfortable.

  “So, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” I ask, glancing over as Dash makes his way back into the living room by way of the kitchen. “I gotta be honest. I kind of thought we’d be doing more this week.”

  “Shows what you know about relationships,” Dash snorts as he settles on the other end of the couch, baby in tow. “Take this wedding, for instance. Evie’s constantly bitching about having too much to do, but she doesn’t actually want my help with any of it.”

  “Yeah?” I smirk. “Is that what she told you?”

  “She didn’t have to tell me shit,” he admits with a shrug, glancing over at me with a laugh. “I know her better than you.” I raise my brow in challenge, but his cocky expression never shifts. “Trust me. Dating history aside, you watch someone force three tiny versions of yourself – two of them roadside – out of their own body, you get to know them pretty fuckin’ well, Mason.”