Page 68 of Rival for Rent

“You’re enjoying this,” he accused. “You know you can overpower me right now, and you’re lording it over me.”

“You got me. I’m a cruelly cruel person who lives for cruelty. Now do what your sister says and go to bed.”

As the afternoon wore on, I had to admit Dana might have beenslightlyoverbearing. She insisted on counting out his pills and creating a spreadsheet for when he had to take them. She brought him snacks and water constantly—basically making it impossible for him to rest. When she offered to run a bath and help him wash, he hurled a pillow at her and told her to get out.

“Someone has to help you,” she said. “It’s either me or Kai. Take your pick.”

I flushed. Mason stared out the window. She threw her hands in the air and stomped downstairs. He didn’t look at me, so after a moment, I slipped out of the room to give him space and a shot at actually sleeping.

It was fun to wander around her house in the meantime. I’d known Dana was smart back in high school, but I still didn’t expect all the weird robots I kept stumbling across. There was a six-legged, spider-like one that crawled around the upstairs, hunting for discarded socks and yeeting them into a laundry basket at the end of the hall.

The laundry basket was a robot too, complete with blinking lights and buttons and switches I was afraid to touch. When it caught me staring for too long, a loud, Dalek-like voice shouted, “Wash me, coward!” loud enough to shake the house.

Downstairs, Dana showed me a roving watering can on wheels, with an internal crane that lifted it to the height of her various house plants. As it watered them, it whispered little affirmationsin a deeply unsettling child’s voice. ‘You are strong, confident, and competent. Your emotions are valid. It’s a waning crescent moon, let go of that which no longer serves you.’

“Isn’t it cute?” she said, grinning as it misted the air above a fern. “It’s biodynamic.”

“Definitely,” I told her, though personally, I thought a regular, non-biodynamic watering can would have worked just as well.

It didn’t have eyes, but I still thought it was judging me from across the room, and when I passed through the living room later, it attempted to spritz me.

“You are enough,” it cooed. “You are right where you’re supposed to be.”

I fled back upstairs.

Dana ordered Chinese for dinner later on. I was pleased to see she’d gotten sesame chicken—the same thing I’d had in the fridge that Amir had mocked and Mason had thrown out. I really did like it, even though I never seemed to finish a whole carton. Amir came over, too, full of stories from his latest string of dates, both professional and personal.

“But enough about me,” he said, wrapping up a tale about a guy who brought a live trout to a bar. “I want to hear aboutyou,” he added, looking at me. “What’s going on with your secret admirer?”

Mason frowned and turned to me sharply. “Secret admirer?”

“He means my stalker,” I said. “He just has to be cute about it.”

“There’s nothing cute about this guy,” Mason said. “Whoever’s behind this isn’t afraid to use violence.”

“But Mason’s been a huge help,” I said when Amir and Dana both looked concerned. I updated them on the situation with the cops and the security system Mason had ordered for my house, and finished by adding, “I honestly shouldn’t be surprised he’s great at this. Whatdoessurprise me is how good a cook he is.”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Amir said, punching Mason gently on his good arm. “This dude can cook. And bake. And grill. And sauté, braise, stew. The only thing I haven’t gotten him to do is flambé—” he wiggled his eyebrows—“but I’m not giving up.”

I felt my face heat, thinking about how much flambéing Mason and I had already done.

“Well, no one told me,” I said. “The man commandeered my kitchen. Threw out everything in my fridge, ordered new groceries, and unearthed appliances I didn’t even know I owned.”

“The stuff in your fridgewasnasty,” Mason said. Amir nodded in agreement. “And I couldn’t let you starve.”

“Takeout is a perfectly fine option,” I said, gesturing at the open cartons on the table.

“Not for every meal,” Mason said firmly. He looked at Amir. “Did you know Kai had never even had spinach before I made it for him?”

“You’re kidding,” Amir said. “I put that in my smoothie every morning.”

“I didn’t say I’d never had it,” I cut in. “Only that I’d never had it so good.” I shot Mason a glare. “Anyway, you’re making it sound like all you’ve done is cook a few meals. You’re not painting the full picture.”

“Ooh, what’s the full picture?” Dana asked.

“Home-cooked meals every night,” I said. “And breakfast. And he catered an entire party for me—on, like, a day’s notice. The man should be a professional chef, not a bodyguard.”

“I didn’t exactly hear you complaining,” Mason said with a smirk.

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