Page 33 of Rival for Rent

“No,” he said, steady now. “I’m not leaving until you’re home safe. And I’m not leaving from there until you call another security service and hire someone to start guarding you tomorrow.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe. But it’s happening.”

“You sure you want to stick around?” I said, lifting a brow. I couldn’t resist needling him a bit. “You just said you couldn’t think straight around me. What if I use my secret gay powers to confuse you again?” I wiggled my fingers in mock menace.

“Don’t be absurd. You’re not going to make me do anything.”

Anything but scowl, apparently—and tail me for the rest of the site visit like my own personal thunderstorm, lurking over my shoulder. When I called for a town car, he took it upon himself to interrogate the driver before letting me get in. Then he brooded silently the whole ride home. If glowering were an Olympic sport, he’d have taken gold, silver, and emotionally repressed bronze.

At least Bella got a smile out of him, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. She was supposed to be my guard dog. Couldn’t she tell Mason was as much a menace as my stalker?

Jesus. What if Masonwasmy stalker?

The thought made me pause halfway through the living room. I turned and watched as he crouched to scratch Bella behind the ears. Was it really a coincidence that he’d reappeared in my life only weeks after the threats had started?

I shook my head. No. Mason might be frustrating, even infuriating, but he wasn’t unhinged. Not like that. He’d seemed genuinely impressed by the Butterfly Center. And I believed him when he said I was making a difference.

Had he really been in the military ever since college? What was that like? He’d acted almost ashamed when he told me, which was surprising. Mason didn’t strike me as someone who felt shame. About anything.

He looked up and caught me staring. I turned away quickly and headed into the kitchen. He followed.

“Can I look around your place?” he asked, bracing his hands on the kitchen island.

I frowned. “Why? Are you casing it or something?”

“Don’t be stupid. I just… It’s a feeling.”

“A feeling about what?”

“Just a feeling. Do you mind if I go upstairs?”

I didn’t see a reason to say no. It’s not like I’d left a bunch of sex toys scattered around. Though honestly, I kind of wished I had.Making Mason uncomfortable was unexpectedly fun. Maybe I could sneak upstairs and leave a giant dildo on my pillow.

“Be my guest,” I said, shrugging.

I trailed after him as he walked through the house—a reversal of our roles at the center. I still didn’t know what he was expecting to find. He opened cabinets in the bathroom, glanced inside, but didn’t really seem to care what was in them. He ran his fingers along my bookshelf in the office, checked the windows, peeked behind picture frames. He even looked under the bed. When he picked up the lamp on my nightstand and examined the base, I’d had enough.

“Seriously? What are you doing? This isn’t a spy thriller. No one’s bugging my house.”

“Can you be sure about that?”

“Well, no,” I admitted. “But I don’t think it’d be very useful. I live alone. I don’t talk to myself. What exactly would this guy be hoping to learn? My bedtime routine?”

“Guy,” he said suddenly, narrowing his eyes. “You think it’s a man? Do you know who it is?”

“No. It’s just an expression.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he pressed his lips together and headed back downstairs, continuing his patrol. He finished up in the living room, peeking out through the front windows.

“You always keep your curtains open?” he asked.

“I’m not a vampire.”

“Do you know your neighbors?”

“The ones on either side. Van Houtens are to the south. Older couple. They have a tiny dog who’s obsessed with Bella. Clemency Beauregard lives to the north—single, hosts parties. I wave at the folks across the street, but I don’t know their names.”

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