Page 55 of Rival for Rent

There it was again—that version of Mason that came out in a crisis. Calm. Capable. Focused. The same Mason who stepped in at Safeway. At the Trevi Theater. And now here.

I followed his instructions and ushered everyone outside. Thankfully, only Carolyn seemed to recognize Brent. The rest of my guests had met me at fundraisers, not board meetings. I toldthem Brent had had a bit too much to drink and was dredging up old history. Mason was handling it.

“Well, I can’t say I blame him,” Nancy said not-so-quietly. She might’ve been as drunk as Brent. “If I were replaced by someone like Mason, I’d be pissed too.”

I flushed, realizing she’d misunderstood the situation with Mason too. The entire party probably thought we were dating. I glanced towards the dining room and saw Mason had sat Brent down with a plate of food and a tall glass of water. Brent already looked calmer, working through a pulled pork slider.

I managed to finish my funding pitch. The rest of the evening was smooth, and we wrapped things up outside. By the time we went back in, Brent was gone. Mason, ever the charmer, handed out leftover plates and promised Nancy he’d email her the stuffed mushroom recipe.

“How’d you get Brent to leave?” I asked once we were finally alone.

Mason had flopped down on the couch, arms stretched out, head tipped back, eyes closed. It might’ve been the first time he’d sat down all night.

“Promised him you’d call him in the morning,” he said.

I opened my mouth to protest, but he lifted his head and added, “Don’t worry, he won’t remember. He was really drunk. Said he had to go to the bathroom, so I sent him to use the one upstairs, in case someone needed the downstairs. When he didn’t come back, I went to check—he’d fallen asleep on the toilet.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Wow. I owe you for that.”

“All part of the job,” Mason said with a tired grin, but I narrowed my eyes at him.

I really did owe him. A lot.

“What?” he asked, noticing my stare.

“I was just thinking,” I said slowly. “I owe you.”

I walked towards him. He was still spread out on the couch like a man who’d run a marathon.

“What?” he repeated. “No you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. For cooking for this whole party, for one thing. For dealing with Brent.” I paused, then added, “And I owe you an orgasm.”

That made him sit up straight, but before he could move from the couch, I placed myself right in front of him, between his legs.

“You should let me blow you.”

What better way to say ‘thank you’ than weaponized horniness?

“Kai.” Mason shook his head.

“Don’t make it mean more than it does,” I said. “It’s just physical.”

“I still don’t think that’s a good idea.” He looked almost regretful.

“Don’t think it’s a good idea? Or don’t want me to? Because those are two different things.”

“It’s not about wanting. I don’t want you thinking—I mean, you shouldn’t do shit like that because you owe me.”

“Fine.” I put my hand on his chest and shoved him back against the couch cushions. “Then we’ll do it becauseyouoweme. You were a dick to me all through high school, and you’re going to fucking let me.”

An angry glint appeared in his eye, and I had to clamp down on a smile. This was what I wanted, but I didn’t want him to know that.

“You think you can make me do anything?” Mason asked heatedly.

“Yeah. I do.”

I climbed onto the couch, straddling him. His hands went to my shoulders, and for a second, I thought he was going to push me away. Instead, he ran his hands down my arms and onto my waist.

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