Page 13 of Rival for Rent
“I don’t feel right leaving you like this,” Mason said, still looking out into the night. “Not when I don’t know what’s going on, orif you could get hurt again. You need to tell the cops about what happened tonight too, you know.”
I stared at him, exasperated. “I don’t get it. Seriously, what is this? Some weird non-apology apology for what you did in high school? Do you need me to absolve you of your sins or something? Because if that’ll get you to go, then consider yourself forgiven.”
He looked over, clearly confused. I waved my hand at him in a half-hearted sign of the cross. My dad was raised Catholic, but the only times I’d ever been to mass were Christmas and Easter with my grandparents. I was pretty sure my form was wrong, but divine accuracy felt less important than getting him out of my living room.
“Forgiven?” Mason repeated. “What did I do in high school that was so bad?”
I stared at him, completely flabbergasted. He looked genuinely confused. But there was no way. No way he could have forgotten everything he and his friends had done to me.
Was he just an incredible actor? Had he secretly racked up a string of Oscar nominations while living in Hollywood? It would at least explain why he looked like he belonged on the cover of a glossy magazine.
I opened my mouth to remind him—and stopped.
I was an adult now. A grown man with a house, a company, a purpose. And whatever problems I had in my life, Mason Clark wasn’t one of them. Not anymore. I was the one in control here. Not him.
“Just go,” I said, pointing at the door.
He ignored the command. “Are you going to tell the cops about what happened tonight?”
“Go,” I said again, sharper now.
“Even if you don’t want to use me as a bodyguard, something’s clearly wrong. Will you at least promise me you’ll call another service?”
“Mason.” I made my voice harsh. It cracked through the room like a whip, and I took a step towards him. I didn’t care how big he was. I was done. “Go.”
He stared at me for a beat, like he was trying to read me. Looking for a weakness, probably. Good luck finding one. I’d trained that out of myself years ago. Finally, finally, he nodded.
“Alright,” he said. He lifted his hands in surrender. “Alright, I’ll go. But I really don’t think you should be alone tonight, and I’d much rather—”
“Mason!”
“Okay, okay.” He had theaudacityto roll his eyes, like I was the one being unreasonable.
He turned towards the door. I followed, mostly to make sure he actually left—and so I could lock the damn thing behind him. Bella trotted after us, then plopped herself down at his feet while he pulled on his leather jacket, gazing up at him like he hung the moon. She'd probably help him rob the place if he gave her a Milk-Bone.
He glanced around the living room. “This is a really nice place you’ve got.”
I blinked at the change in topic. “Um… thanks?”
He gave the room another once-over. “You have any security cameras? Alarm system? Are you worried about someone breaking in?”
“Mason, please.” I felt myself fraying at the edges. I needed him out before I completely came apart.
He nodded. Bent down to pet Bella. Then stood, and—God help me—put a hand on my shoulder.
It was warm. Heavy. Solid. And it felt… good. Really, really good. I hated that.
He gave me one last searching look, then let his hand fall.
“Take care of yourself, Kai.”
I shut the door behind him without saying a word. Threw the deadbolt, then the lock on the knob. A wave of exhaustion hit me like a brick, and I dragged myself back to the couch and flopped down.
Bella padded after me and settled beside the sofa, resting her snout on my thigh. Not much of a guard dog, but she always seemed attuned to how I was feeling. Except when it came to Mason. She clearly liked him. Probably because she hadn’t been born yet when I was in high school, but still.
I sighed and threw an arm over my eyes. Mason fucking Clark. Of all the people from my past, he was the one to reappear in my life? I hadn’t thought about him in years.
Okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. I’d had a few idle fantasies of bumping into him as an adult. Getting to deliver a cutting remark, maybe even throw a punch. But I knew those were childish daydreams. And I wasn’t a child anymore.
