“No. I do wish we’d started off on a better foot in here, though.” He extended his hand. “I’m Mason.”
Ah, fuck. She’d just gone partial bitch-mode on what may be her last chance across the country with the cash in her pocket.
MASON DIDN’T KNOW HOW to approach the fiery redhead who was getting in his face. His body reminded him of how she looked naked—swaying hips, perky breasts, and smooth pussy. His brain pointed out she was on the edge of furious, and may be his last option for an affordable drive cross-country. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I promise no one is going to know I’m a stripper by looking at me, unless one of us tells them.” She wasn’t speaking loudly, but a couple of people nearby turned in her direction.
He was going to have a hard time explaining himself.
They reached the front of the line. “We’re not done,” she said, and stepped forward. She ordered a small coffee and an ice water.
He joined her. “We’re together.” It was the least he could do to apologize.
Ginny twisted her mouth, and he waited for her to object. “And a muffin. And make that a large iced mocha instead.”
He hid his wince. It was only a few more dollars, but if this meeting didn’t improve, he was going to need every last cent. “Same for me, I guess.”
He paid, and they found an empty table in the back corner.
Her lips were pursed and her hands jammed in her pockets. “You were explaining why you don’t want to be seen with me?”
“My co-driver bailed on me at the last minute—hence the listing you answered—and I don’t know anything about this woman I’m meeting, who would be you so I guess I know a little, but if it hadn’t been you, I don’t know how a random woman would react to me already being here with someone else.” He bit off the rambling words. “People tend to draw a lot of conclusions without having all the information, and I’d hate for her to go off on me because of appearances.”
“Oh.” The irritation evaporated from Ginny’s voice in a single huff. “It might suck to be verbally attacked by a stressed-out, sleep-deprived psycho.” She gave him a weak smile.
“It might,” he teased.
Her laugh was strained. “Can we forget the last few minutes didn’t happen? Erase them? Start with Malibu, huh? That’s where the girlfriend is?”
Girlfriend. Oops. Mason needed to come clean about that. But that might not be a good idea now. What if Ginny overreacted again and took things the wrong way? Called him a stalker or a sexist pig or something? “Yeah. That’s where she is.”
“Is that a yeah to the starting over as well? I promise I’m normally much more charming. It’s not a great excuse, but I’m under a lot of stress.”
He liked that she was willing to own her bad mood. “Starting over sounds good, and not only because my options are limited.” Might as well own up a little himself. “And I know you’re charming. I do remember meeting you last night.”
When she smiled, it was disarming. “I appreciate the disclaimer.”
The barista called their names. They fetched their drinks, and tried to find a place to sit. There was one table outside.
Ginny angled herself to be under the umbrella. “There’s room under here for a second chair. I promise I charge extra for the biting,” she teased.
“A cup of coffee doesn’t buy me even a nibble?” He hoped the joke went over well.
“It might. If the company is good.” She was smiling now. “You really don’t have to sit in the sun.”
“I like it hot.” He mentally facepalmed. Now she was going think he was flirting. “I mean, the sun doesn’t bother me.”
“Really? I thought you IT guys withered and died in sunshine.” She broke off a large bite of her food and shoved it in her mouth, washing it with a swallow of coffee. She didn’t seem to be shy about eating in front of other people.
That helped him relax. “I like to think I’m not your typical basement dweller.”
“It shows.” The way she trailed her gaze along his frame was hotter than the summer afternoon.
He should shrug that off, right? Get things back to where they’d been last night? “You know all about me,” he said. “I don’t even know what's in San Francisco.”
“The Golden Gate Bridge. Some fantastic piers...” She sighed. “Talking about me isn’t my thing, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“I wasn’t going to mention it.” Mostly because he wasn’t sure if there was a way to do so without it coming out wrong.
“I appreciate that. My residency is in San Francisco.”
“You’re a doctor?” He fumbled to explain his surprise before she freaked on him again. “Not that you couldn’t be. I’ve just never met someone my age before who’s finished med school. Most of my friends were lucky to finish pre-grad.”
She leaned back in her seat and sipped her drink. Condensation dribbled down the side of the cup, landed on her chest, and slid between her breasts.
He pulled his gaze away, but not before she caught his eye, and raised a brow.
“I’m a brain doctor,” she said. “PhD in Psychology.”
“And you’re stripping?”
She raised the second eyebrow to join the first. “Was. Though I’m not embarrassed to admit it. I’ve got a gorgeous body that I don’t mind showing off, and it pays a lot better that tech support. No offense.”
He wouldn’t be surprised if offense was exactly why she’d said it. “None taken. IT is a little different than tech support. We have a fancier title, and put up with corporate level shit instead of home users.”
“So when someone calls you with a broken coffee cup holder, they stuck their Starbucks travel flask in their CD ROM instead of their world’s best dad mug?”
He laughed. “More or less. Besides, I don’t have the body for stripping.”
She reached across the table and squeezed a bicep, then traced her fingers along his skin. “I bet you’d make good money. Sexy ink. Big arms.”
How was he supposed to react to that? Her tone was matter-of-fact, but her touch sent enough heat racing over him that it canceled out the sun. He wasn’t a physical contact kind of guy, but he wasn’t in a hurry to shake off her grip.
He patted his stomach. “And a little bit of a gut to go with it all.”
“A lot of girls like that. I like that.”
Was she flirting with him? He couldn’t tell. Why was he so bad at this? “I have two left feet.”
“Hmm... That could be dangerous on stage. We’ll have to teach you to wiggle your hips instead.” She leaned back again.
He instantly missed the touch. That was an odd sort of longing. “I think I’m good with IT. Thank you, though.”
“It’s not for everyone.” She drew her cup along one arm, and then the other, leaving a pale sheen on her skin that evaporated quickly. Like last night, her every movement was fluid and graceful. “What kind of IT is in California that you can’t do here?”
A question he could answer. Good. “I suppose I could do it here, too. But I don’t want to stay in a basic help desk job. I’m going to become a corporate trainer, and the job I have lined up will push me in that direction.” He’d done a little bit of training with the company before, and loved it. When he talked to HR again, they’d laid out a plan for his career.
It ought to be perfect.
“Corporate training sounds fancy.” Her tone was sincere. “What does it mean?”
“In my case, I’ll be teaching people how to use the basic software to do their jobs. Call center interfaces. CRMs—”
“CRM?”
“Client Relationship Management...” He should lay off the acronyms. As he stalled, he had no idea where the conversation should go next. There were some days he wished he was more like Jake. Aggressive, confident, and unafraid to speak his mind. Then again, Ginny hadn’t seemed impressed at the club. “How do we decide if we’re going to do this?” Mason turned the worlds over in his head. “The drivi
ng together thing, I mean.”
Way to make the transition awkward.
She furrowed her brow. “Are you planning to kill, rape, assault, or otherwise harm me?”
“No. God, no. Wait. Do you expect me to say yes if I am?”
“No, but a person’s body language, especially yours, speaks volumes. If you’re not a crappy liar, you’re the best actor in the whole world.”
“I think I should be insulted.”
Ginny smiled. “You shouldn’t. Most people are bad liars, but you don’t seem like a dishonest guy, so you’ve got that over them in volumes. And I’m not planning to do any of the above to you, either.”
”Then we’re good to go.” That was more of a relief than he expected. Not just the opportunity to split the travel costs, but he enjoyed Ginny’s company.
“Now I just need to get as lucky catching a bus home.”
“Why?” he asked.
“I never take MARTA, and I’m not sure I have the right bus schedule.”
Mason really needed to learn to be clearer. “I mean, why are you taking the bus?”
“No car. Hence the need for a ride share.”
“I mean...” Why am I over thinking this? “I’m happy to give you a ride. I have to pick you up when we leave, so this’ll make it easier to find you. I forgot to ask—you’re okay with heading out tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is perfect. A ride home would be great too, if it’s not out of your way.”
He nodded toward the parking lot. “I’m sure it’s not. We can go whenever you’re ready.”
She walked with him to the car. He resisted the urge to hang back a few steps and watch her ass.
He held the door open for her, and as she slid into the passenger seat, something else occurred to him. “Is there enough space for your things? You said you’re moving.”
“I’ll pack light. A suitcase and my laptop.”
That was curious. He got in the car, and she gave him instructions to her apartment. While he drove, she explained what had happened with her bank information being stolen.
“So in a week, I’ll be rich. Comparatively speaking.” Her tone was light. She was stunning when she was relaxed and having fun.
The pulled up in front of the fourplex she pointed him to, and he shut off the engine.
When someone pounded on the window, she squealed, and Mason jumped.
“Get the fuck out.” A man hammered on the side of Mason’s car. He was probably six-foot-six and fifty pounds heavier than Mason. All of that extra size was muscle.
“Get out now.” Every time he slammed his fist in the vehicle, the entire car rocked.
“We should go.” Ginny sounded terrified.
CHAPTER FIVE
A giant pit sat in Ginny’s gut as Creepy-Asshole-Number-Three shouted for her to get out of the car. He’d never given her his real name, but most of her customers didn’t. When she started having issues with him at the club, she’d assigned him the next sequential number.
She hadn’t seen him for several months, and was grateful he was gone. He shouldn’t know her real name, let alone where she lived.
Ginny grabbed Mason’s arm. “Let’s just go. I’ll come back later.”
“Keep your door locked.” Mason climbed from the car, and approached Asshole-Three.
Ginny only caught snippets of what Mason said. “... lady... not interested... now... trouble...”
He was sticking up for her. This guy she barely knew, who she hadn’t offered to screw or take her clothes off for. Since last night, anyway. And he was going to get his ass kicked.
Asshole-Three nodded, and turned away.
Was he actually leaving?
He swung back around, fist raised, and clipped Mason square in the eye.
Mason grunted loud enough Ginny felt it in her teeth, and stumbled back, head drooping.
Ginny scrambled from the car, pulling out her phone. “Stop. I’m calling the police.”
Mason lunged forward abruptly, dug his elbow into Asshole-Three’s gut, then kicked him in the balls.
Asshole-Three dropped to his knees with a silent gasp.
She couldn’t help her stunned laugh. It wasn’t funny, but she didn’t feel bad for the guy.
Asshole-Three spit on her shoes in response. “I just wanted to talk, fucking cunt.” Mason stepped toward him, and he scooted back quickly, scrambling to his feet. “I’m going to sue the fuck out of you, pansy-boy.”
Ginny braced herself for another round of fighting, and prepared to call 9-1-1.
Asshole-Three gave them one final glare and limped back to the BMW parked across the street.
She spun to face Mason, and reached for his face. The skin around the eye was already swelling and glared bright red. “I’m so sorry.” She was also both flattered and embarrassed. He took a punch for her. No one had ever done that. Shannon or Colleen might. But this guy... His girlfriend was lucky.
“I’ve had worse. Well, not really. But it was worth it. You can’t stay here.” Mason stepped back.
The concern warmed her more than the sun on her face. “I won’t be after tomorrow. I need to call the police.”
“Do you know who he is?”
She shook her head. She’d been so engrossed in the fight, she forgot to even get his license plate number. There was nothing to tell the police except some creepy guy approached me. That never got her anywhere.
Mason prodded the puffy skin around his eye, and cringed. “You can’t stay here tonight. There’s a good chance he’ll be back in a few hours.”
“I don’t have a choice. I’ll lock the door, turn off all the lights, and play possum if he comes knocking.” The idea terrified her more than she wanted to admit.
“No.” Mason headed up her walk. “We’ll grab your things now, and you’ll come crash on our futon.”
Ginny opened her mouth to object, but fear bound her tongue. She couldn’t deal with Asshole-Three on her own, and there was no telling if the cops would show up quickly if she called them. Besides, she needed to sleep if they were heading out. “If you’re sure...”
“Positive. It’ll give us a few extra hours to get to know each other before we leave, and my roommate is taking care of his sister’s kids, so we won’t be bothering anyone.”
“So we’ll have the place to ourselves?” She scooted closer and looked up at him through her eyelashes.
He blushed. “Yes?”
She shouldn’t tease him. He was cute and sweet, and no one should spoil that. It was easy, though, and his reactions were adorable. “I’m poking fun, but I’ll stop. Do you want to split a five-dollar pizza and drink way too much cheap Coke?”
“Sounds perfect.” He gestured toward her door, and gave a short bow.
Ginny didn’t have a problem with her career choice over the last several years, but the clientele and company weren’t always top notch. She unlocked her apartment, and glanced at Mason, waiting patiently next to her. He was sexy in that cute kind of way, soft enough to look cuddly, but strong enough to take a swing at someone, and considerate when he wasn’t trying too hard.
Of course he was spoken for. The thought carried through Ginny on a hint of bittersweet.
MASON SAT NEXT TO GINNY on the futon in the living room. An empty pizza box lay open on the coffee table in front of them.
“I think this is warm beyond useful.” He pulled a two-liter soda bottle away from his face. They’d forgotten ice, and there was none in the house, so he tried to make do with the second cold Coke.
“Did it help?” she asked. She’d fussed over him several times since they got back to his place.
He didn’t know what to make of half her actions—was she flirting? Being friendly? Just seeing how he’d react?—but he liked her company, and the view was nice too. “I think so. My eye is still tender, but it doesn’t hurt as badly.”
“Good.” She grabbed the bottle, and went to stash it in the fridge.
She returned and sat next to hi
m again, close enough her arm pressed against his.
He tried to turn his attention back to the TV. They were watching MST3K, and some of her lines were as good as the commentary in the show. This trip was going to be a lot of fun.
The front door burst open, and Max walked in, his niece and two nephews accompanying him. The kids saw Mason, and ran forward, hopping on the couch. The sister climbed on Ginny’s lap. “Who are you?”
Ginny’s smile looked strained. “I’m Ginny.”
“Are you Mason’s girlfriend?” she asked.
“Are you spending the night?” one brother chimed in.
“Mason’s going to a wedding,” the other offered. “Is he marrying you? You’re pretty. Will you marry me?”
Mason didn’t need them delving into the details of the wedding. “She’s just a friend.”
“I’m Max.” He extended his hand. “Come on, y’all. Leave her alone.”
“Nice to meet you.” Ginny shook his hand.
Max looked between her and Mason, eyebrows raised. “Have we met before? Last night maybe?”
Of course he recognized her. Mason half-expected Ginny to say something like I look different with my clothes on.
“I don’t think we were formally introduced.” Ginny looked calmer now that she didn’t have children climbing on her.
Mason fumbled for the right words to explain this entire warped coincidence, and keep it family friendly.
“Uncle Max, I don’t feel so good.” The younger boy held his stomach.
Max clenched his jaw. “Fuuu-reak. I told you not to eat so many hot dogs. In the bathroom. Now.”
The boy turned, retched, and emptied the contents of his stomach all over Ginny.
CHAPTER SIX
Ginny choked back a gag. The little boy in front of her was on the verge of tears, and she didn’t want to make things worse.
“It’s all right. No harm done.” She kept her voice kind, in what she was pretty sure was the biggest acting part she’d ever played. Foul-smelling liquid with chunks of hotdog clung to her clothes and the tips of her hair.
Drive Me Wild (Ridden Hard, #4) Page 3
