Scorched (The Frenemy Series Book 4) Read online

  “Lenny!” I call out once more when nowhere in the overwhelming sounds surrounding me do I hear the drop or even mention of the ice I’ve been asking him to bring me for the last five minutes. “Ice! I need i-”

  “I sent him on break,” she announces as the double doors swing open, her harsh blue gaze barely noticeable beneath the lights and her heavy autumn hair.

  “Why the hell would you send him on break right now?” I demand, my chest seizing in frustration as I gesture toward the mass. “Look at this shit!”

  “Yes, Mason, I see it,” she replies, her voice soft with exhaustion as she cocks her hip out to one side in annoyance. “But I also saw Lenny moving like a sloth, about to pass out from heat exhaustion back there. He hasn’t had a break since seven and it’s not even half-time yet.”

  “Fuck his ten minutes!” I spew, reaching for three more longnecks before I take the cash and hustle back to the register next to her. “I’m three deep and by myself, Alex. Half-time would have been a much better time for you to fuck me over.”

  “You’re so dramatic,” she shakes her head, taking a step closer to take stock of the tickets on the edge of the bar directly in front of me. A strand of her dark hair falls gently from its place behind her ear, the sweet scent wafting into my nose. I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough that I may have drawn blood and clear my throat. Damn this demon woman for smelling like cinnamon rolls and sex, I think to myself. I bet she tastes sweet, too. It’s probably how she lures unsuspecting victims into her lair. “What’s the problem?”

  Her shrill demand pulls me out of my two second fantasy and immediately launches me back into my resentful reality.

  “I need ice,” I manage, staring back at her incredulously. “Ice. Ice. Ice.”

  “Okay, okay, okay,” she mumbles back, the mocking hint in her tone nearly lost to the volume of the people still shouting at me as she rolls her eyes. “You could’ve gotten ten buckets of the shit in the amount of time it took you to bitch about it, but let’s not get crazy,” she says dramatically, her words dripping with condescension. “I’ll get it for you, drama queen.”

  “It weighs as much as you do. You’re never going to be able to lift it,” I argue. “I’d be better off getting it myself.”

  “Well, then you should do that,” she replies, her smile both wide and sarcastic.

  “I would love to, but-” I trail off, gesturing toward the mob.

  “I told you I’d help make your drinks.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Well, then go fuck yourself,” she shrugs, letting a low laugh leave her lips. “I don’t know what else to tell you, Mason.” Despite her cool exterior, I don’t miss the way her chest heaves beneath her top, thoughts I shouldn’t have about my boss, particularly when she’s my self-proclaimed nemesis, invading my mind. I file them into the back of my brain for later, same as always, and return to the argument at hand. “Don’t complain about not having help and then refuse it when I offer.”

  “Just watch the bar,” I grumble, tossing my apron to the side for a minute before I storm into the back of house, throwing the lid to the ice maker open. “Pain in my ass,” I complain, mostly under my breath, as I fill the bucket and yank it into my grip, a string of curse words leaving my lips as the handle snaps and half the contents spill out onto the floor. “Ah!” I cry out, throwing the now useless handle before I lift the bucket and push back through the doors. “Fuckin’ piece of crap, bullshit…” I stammer on, shaking my head. “I’m quitting this job,” I threaten to no one but myself, kicking the door open with my foot and moving down the galley. “We need a new bucket.”

  My announcement is met with more annoyance, her deadpan expression finding mine with silent accusation.

  “You’re paying for that,” she threatens, making my eyes go wide. I’m about to object and she cuts me off, shaking her head. “You think I couldn’t hear you back there the whole time? Bitching because you had to run stock for yourself one time?”

  “First of all, no. I don’t think you heard me,” I counter, gesturing toward the still deafening crowd. “Second, this piece of shit bucket is older than I am. If you think I’m paying for it, you’re insane.”

  “Well, I guess I must be batshit fucking crazy, because I’m not paying for something you broke during one of your little temper tantrums,” she insists, her arms crossing defiantly over her chest. “I don’t care how old the thing is. You break it? You buy it.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me,” she replies, shouting over the loud cheers ringing out over the bar. “Your boss. Remember?”

  She takes a step toward me, her resolve not fading even a fraction as I set my jaw and stare back into her demonic gaze. Her nostrils flare, my teeth clench.

  “Yo! Mase!” Mooney calls out, his voice low and beefy but somehow filled with enough volume to clatter over the others surrounding him. “What I gotta do to get another draft? I’m dyin’ over here.”

  My gaze never falters from hers, hers never wavering from mine. Working under this monster has made the last eighteen months the longest of my life. I never had to deal with this shit when Dash was managing the bar, I think to myself. I told him she was terrible, but does he listen? No. He was too busy knocking up my sister and being a jackass.

  “Mase!” Mooney calls out once more, and though my furious gaze never shifts from Alex’s one of challenge, I don’t miss him cowering as I threaten him by lifting the bullhorn once more in warning.

  “You’ve got a customer,” she invades my thoughts, her subtle smirk of triumph pulling a low growl of annoyance from my chest. “Don’t worry about the bucket,” she offers, her voice sweeter as she reaches for my apron and places it firmly against my chest. “I can just take it out of your check, Mase.”

  alex

  “Hey,” Mason starts as he comes to a stop in the doorway of the office, pulling my eyes to his. “I’m done in here.” I haven’t had time to look in a mirror for the last several hours, but instinctually I know with one look at his large frame that the exhaustion in his features is mirroring mine perfectly. He releases a low yawn and leans one arm up against the doorway, his short sleeve falling just enough to reveal his bicep and I have to bite my inner cheek as a reminder that he’s evil and not delicious. Stupid, traitorous vagina. “How much longer do you need.”

  “About ten minutes,” I say, my eyes moving back to the stock sheets in front of me. “You can go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

  “You know I’m not going to do that,” he argues, releasing a long, dramatic sigh. Subtle. “Walt would lose his shit.”

  “Well, Walt’s not here. It’s my shift and I’m telling you it’s fine if you’d like to go,” I insist, my voice morphing with yet another yawn. “I appreciate the offer, forced as it may be, but I’m parked right out back. I’m sure I can manage.”

  He says nothing for long enough that I think he may have left, but the subtle shift of light across my desk tells me otherwise. I’ve just flipped over the page I’m working on, about to insist once more, when it shifts again, and I hear the quiet scrape of the chair on the other side of the desk against the floor.

  “Alright,” he yawns, popping the top off of a Heineken before he takes a long draw and I look up to find him staring at the dingy, wood-paneled wall across from him. “I’m ready when you are, but it’d be great if you could cut that ten down to a hot five.”

  “I told you I didn’t need you to wait. Hot five your ass on home,” I offer with a shrug. “I know you’re tired. It was a hard shift tonight.”

  “It was,” he agrees quietly. “And thanks, but I promised not to let you get hacked in the alley.”

  “And they’re always going on and on about chivalry being dead,” I shake my head, stacking the sheet with the others before I reach for a deposit slip.

  “You can think what you want about me, but I’ve got no desire to have Walt fire me.”

  “Well, Tony leaves me here all the
time and he’s still got a job, so I’m sure you – the prodigal son – have very little to worry about there,” I offer as I push the door to the safe closed and reach for my bag, nodding toward what is quite obviously a stolen beer he’s polishing off. “Did you pay for that beer?”

  “Sure,” he smirks, tossing it into the bin. “I paid for it just like I’m paying for that busted ass ice bucket out there.”

  “You are paying for that ice bucket.”

  “You’ll have to pry that money out of my cold, dead hands,” he admits dryly as we make our way to the back door.

  “You should know better than to threaten me with a good time,” I sing as I lock up quickly, moving directly to my car.

  “We’ll see about that,” he counters as I slip into the driver’s seat and watch him stalk toward his own car, yanking the door open. “Nine a.m. sharp. If you’re late, I’m leaving without you.”

  “Of the two of us, I was on time today. Why don’t you worry about yourself?”

  “Can’t be late if you aren’t scheduled,” he reminds me with a smirk. “Eat my ass.”

  “You should be so lucky.”

  “It’d be the highlight of your fuckin’ life,” he smirks. “Night, boss.”

  “Yeah, goodnight,” I drone, slamming my door shut. “Dickface.”

  chapter four

  mason

  “Fuckin’ psycho,” I grumble low as I let myself in and toss my keys onto the counter. I shake my head, reaching into the fridge for a beer before I rest my exhausted frame against the island in the center of the kitchen. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I continue my rant, my voice high and whiny to sound like hers. “Please. That girl wouldn’t know a good time if it bent her over and slapped her on the ass.”

  I drain the longneck and make my way upstairs to the same room I’d called mine since I was born and yank my clothes off, tossing them into the hamper. Even though I’ve lived here pretty much my whole life, it’s weird, being in this house on my own full-time now.

  Since my mom is officially retired and I’m the proud new owner, I guess I’m free to do what I want with it, free to sleep anywhere. However, despite the ink on the deed that made it official, it hasn’t seemed to make me feel like that old room downstairs was mine just yet.

  I think a part of me is still waiting, even though I know better, that I’ll wake up in the morning and my mom will be at the table having her coffee. Or I’d walk out into the hallway to find Dash and my sister bickering over something stupid that I’d have to go break up before it got out of hand.

  I did that really well, I think to myself with a snort.

  I’m happy for all of them, but it’s been an adjustment to say the least, going from a bachelor still living at home with his mom so I can pay off my school loans to a twenty-seven year old homeowner who’s now living in his childhood home completely solo.

  Maybe I ought to get a roommate.

  Maybe I need to finally admit to myself that I’m lonely.

  “Or maybe you just need to get laid, bro,” I say quietly to myself as I step under the hot spray of the shower.

  I stay in longer than I need to, the warmth seeping into my muscles much needed after the weekend I’d just had. With a few pumps of body wash, I clean myself quickly, relieving my aching cock while I try to pretend the memory of her nipples straining against her cotton t-shirt isn’t the thing getting me off. Once I’ve taken care of myself, I twist the shower knobs off and step out, patting myself dry before I turn out the lights and move into my bedroom.

  “You did it, man,” I remind myself through another yawn as I fall onto my mattress, the low light of the television lighting the room up in a tint of blue. “It’s been a long couple of days, but you’re finally off the hook for two weeks.”

  alex

  “Honey, I’m home,” I call out with too much exhaustion to reveal any enthusiasm, be it feigned or otherwise.

  I swing the door shut and toss my keys onto the coffee table, savoring in the feel of my bare feet on the soft carpet when I’m finally out of my shoes enough to pull a low, appreciative groan from my chest.

  Tomorrow’s going to be another long day, but at least I won’t be spending it at the bar. While I’m sure there won’t be much in the way of relaxing at an out of town wedding where I’m the second choice maid of honor – my words, not hers – it’ll be nice to have a change of scenery, maybe let my hair down a little for the first time since I moved here.

  “Hey Marv. How was your night?” I ask with a yawn as I watch him hover to the surface in search of food. “Me, too, buddy.”

  I sprinkle a little food into his bowl and glance around the simple space and release a low but contented sigh. It’s not much, but it’s quiet and it’s mine. Even on nights like tonight, when I’m half-dead and grouchier than shit, I can’t deny my own self-pride. It gets lonely, but I’d spend a thousand more nights just like this one if it meant never hearing the obnoxious bellow of any one of my deadbeat ex-boyfriends bitching about whatever non-problem he’d had that day.

  Yeah. Lonely sucks, but not as bad as that shit.

  Maybe one day I’ll be ready to meet a nice guy, or at the very least someone to blow the dust off my pussy and rock my world every now and again. There are parts of being half of something that I miss – the inside jokes, boring nights on the couch. But I don’t miss the way the last few guys I’d let into my life made me feel. I don’t miss that a single bit.

  Besides, even if my collective dating history didn’t look like a who’s who of America’s biggest ass clowns, my schedule doesn’t leave much time for anything outside of work.

  Lord knows I’m not meeting any winners at Walt’s.

  “I’ll see you in the morning, buddy,” I say with a small smile toward Marvin’s bowl and reach for the bottle of red and bag of Cheetos I’d left on the counter the night before.

  Dinner of champions.

  I pop a few bites into my mouth on my way toward the shower, stripping my clothes along the way. I rinse the day away quickly, not taking nearly enough time to let the hot steam work it’s magic on my muscles before I twist the water off and step out. I’m still damp when I pull my favorite cropped Joan Jett tee, the droplets of water still resting on my skin making it awkwardly hug my flesh, and I amble toward the bed. I pop the cork out of the bottle and take a long draw, savoring in the flavor as it washes over my tongue and I pull the drawer to my bedside table open and reach for my vibrator.

  “Hello, lover,” I whisper sarcastically, grateful Marvin isn’t in here to witness my pathetic excuse for a date night.

  He’s a good fish. He deserves better than this.

  I slide into bed, pushing the heavy comforter away and switch on the television, the volume lower than my interest as I sink into the mattress. The low hum of the vibration is soon the only sound in the room aside from a heavy sigh as my eyes flutter shut and I wet my fingers, sliding them between my thighs.

  I shuffle through a half a dozen images before I fall on one of him hovering over me in the doorway, hot breath on my skin as his voice grew husky and dominating. My back arches despite the annoyance still thrumming through me and a flash of his bicep as he leaned against the doorframe, his gaze smoldering into mine, is all I need to buck against the mattress, my walls contracting around the base of my vibrator as I release a low whimper of pleasure.

  “Fuck,” I pant, my cheeks burning as my eyes finally drift open a moment later and I swallow hard.

  I lie in place, still pumping my buzzing companion deep as I trace a finger over my drenched center. I savor in the aftershock and try to not tally the additional therapy I likely need to understand the growing desire to fuck myself while thinking of my enemy. When I’m completely sated, I raise against the headboard and toss my vibrator to the side, putting on a rerun of my favorite renovation show as I polish off the remnants of my Cheetos and guzzle the last of my wine.

  Not much more than an hour after I finally ste
pped inside my apartment, I’m dozing, my thoughts ricocheting between deciding if I should install new fixtures in the kitchen and wondering if Evie’s having an open bar at her wedding.

  Lord knows I’m going to need it after a full week with him.

  chapter five

  mason

  I heard once that favors have a way of biting you in the ass, but I never saw it that way until this morning.

  This morning, I’m seeing it that way fast.

  I want to go back to sleep. I want to lie in my bed and surround myself with the warmth of my comforter while simultaneously giving myself an imaginary pat on my back for the massive accomplishment I’d achieved only thirty-six hours ago. I want to do a lot of things that don’t include standing in my living room right now, but here I am. Surrounded by thirteen boxes of girly wedding shit I agreed to haul to Austin for my sister.

  The sound of a knock on my front door pulls me from my thoughts and I’m reminded of the most annoying part that comes with my first day of vacation. I push out a deep, quiet breath of dread and force myself to the door and swing it open to see her staring back at me.

  “Are you ready to go?”

  “Good morning, Alex,” I reply sarcastically, watching her pull the mirrored aviators off to reveal the matching scowl I’m almost definitely wearing. “It’s so nice to see you, too.”

  “Oh, shut up,” she sighs. “We both know that both of us would rather have a root canal than spend our morning together doing this, so let’s just get it over with so I can get back and my car and not look at you for two hours.”

  I want to argue for the sake of arguing, I want to give her shit, but if I’m honest, she’s right.

  Alex, also known as the bane of my existence, had taken over for my best friend, Dash as the manager at the bar when he moved to Austin to shack up with my baby sister, Evie. Even though they’ve had three kids since then, I can legitimately say that marriage was never something I thought was in the cards for them.

  Well, more accurately him.