Drive Me Wild (Ridden Hard, #4)

by Allyson Lindt

  You could get your own room.

  But this saved them both money.

  Whatever you have to tell yourself.

  They stocked up on Coke, chips, and cookies. Anything that looked good, Ginny added it to the stack. Might as well live it up a little.

  Ginny paid, and they headed outside.

  “Do you want to sit for a little bit?” Mason nodded toward the picnic tables. “Stretch our legs. Enjoy the sun. Maybe be on speaking terms still when we leave?”

  She smiled at the teasing in his voice. “Sounds like a solid plan.”

  They picked a bench and settled across from each other. Mason tore open a package of something he’d been super excited to see, that she’d never heard of.

  “What is it?” Ginny asked.

  “It’s kind of like chocolate and peanut butter, but with a little crunch and some wafers.”

  “It’s a Reese’s thing?”

  He looked between the package and her. “Not quite. It’s hard to describe. Here.” He broke off a piece and reached across the table.

  She leaned in enough to let him feed her, taking the opportunity to tease her tongue along his finger.

  His faint groan was worth it.

  The combination of flavors filled her mouth. She didn’t know what to make of it. As the tastes mingled, complexity became deliciousness. “It’s good.”

  “Told you.” Mason split what was left, and handed her half. “It’s why I wanted extra.”

  “Super smart.”

  She munched, enjoying the candy more with each bite. This was simple, but pleasant. There was no expectation or pressure. She got to be her.

  “What do I absolutely have to see when I get to California?” She asked.

  “That’s such a big question. Do you mean in San Francisco or Malibu or someplace in between or...?”

  She considered that. “All of it. And I might need a tour guide, if you can recommend someone.”

  “I hear Siri’s nice,” Mason teased.

  Ginny liked that he was getting more comfortable with the jokes. Making him blush was fun, but this was leaps and bounds above.

  “Ow. Fuck.” His shout startled her.

  She looked up to see a yellow jacket flying away, and there was a giant red welt on his hand that seemed to swell as she stared at it.

  “Shit. Are you okay? Are you allergic? Do we need to take you to the hospital? Do you have an epi-pen?” Horror stories she’d heard from med students raced through her head, of what could happen if someone had a bad reaction to a sting.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Mason’s hand ached, and the swelling would make driving painful. At least the sting was on the back of his hand instead of his palm.

  Ginny looked and sounded horrified, and was jabbing at her phone. “I’ll find the closest hospital.”

  “I’m all right.” He covered her fingers. “I’ve been stung a few times and it’s never been a big deal.”

  “Are you sure? Reactions can be different each time. There are different kinds of wasps. What if this was the kind that you have a bad reaction to?”

  He wouldn’t have guessed Ginny had a side like this. The concern didn’t surprise him, thought it left a soft glow inside. It was the near-panic. He’d assumed she was always cool and collected. “I’ll be okay. Cross my heart,” he said.

  Deep lines were etched in her forehead. “At least take some Benadryl, just in case.”

  “If it will make you feel better.” The words carried more weight than he expected. What else would he do to improve her mood? Probably a lot more than he should. “But I can’t drive. I hold my antihistamines worse than I do my liquor.”

  “It’s supposed to make you feel better. And I don’t have a problem with driving. I can take over for a few hours, or for the day. I don’t mind.”

  He let out an exaggerated sigh, but was smiling. “All right. Drug me up, Doctor Ginny.”

  “Stay here.” She stood. “No. What if it comes back with friends? You’re kind of tasty. Wait in the car. I’ll be right back.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Mason didn’t remember the last time someone had fussed over him like this. He loved his family, but they weren’t physical, sharing people. It was very much a Here’s an aspirin, sleep it off, kind of environment.

  He settled into the passenger seat of his car. When Ginny returned, he swallowed the pills without complaint.

  She pulled onto the freeway. “Make sure you tell me if your hand gets worse. I don’t care if it’s just a twinge. We’ll stop.”

  “I promise.”

  As they drove, he felt the edge come off his mood, like all the walls around his inhibitions were dropping. Was that something people actually felt? Maybe not. But he prayed whatever came out of his mouth over the next hour or two, Ginny didn’t hate him for it in the morning.

  GINNY EXPECTED MASON to drift off, after his warning. He looked alert to her, though.

  Maybe it took a while for the pills to sink in with him. She couldn’t help glancing at his hand every few seconds.

  “I’m fine.” He told her for billionth. His voice didn’t hold any hint of drowsiness. In fact, it almost sounded lighter. Clearer.

  “Let me have my paranoid moments. I heard a lot of horror stories about stings gone wrong in med school.”

  “How many boyfriends have you had?”

  Ginny must have heard that wrong. Her brain backed up and rolled the question over again. No. She heard it right. “That’s a bit personal.”

  “Very true. And on this trip, you’ve done a fantastic job of avoiding anything even remotely about you. You’re a master at spinning things back on me, though.”

  She didn’t know how she felt about this less timid Mason. Intrigued? “You know I’ve got a PHD in Psychology and I’m on my way to start my residency.”

  “And you know I’m in IT, heading back to pick up a job I left behind a year ago. That’s not personal. It’s a resume.”

  “Why do you want to know?” She was trying not to get defensive, but the question and shift in conversation had her on edge.

  “Why don’t you want to tell me?”

  “I don’t care to be judged based on my love life.” That answer was easy. But was there more to it? She should know her own head better than this.

  Mason shrugged. “You were a stripper.” It was the first time she’d heard him say that like it was just another word. “An incredible one from what I saw. I’m not holding you to some false standard of modesty. I’m just curious.”

  Holy shit. She’d heard of this from the med students too. About one in ten people didn’t pass out when they took antihistamines, they acted more like they were drunk. This was Mason without all the questioning himself. “I don’t really do dating.”

  “Not since the girlfriend.”

  He’d been listening to her that closely? “Something like that,” she said.

  “I’m sorry you had to deal with that.” He sounded sincere.

  She didn’t want his pity. Except that wasn’t what she heard. “I’m not the first person to have my heartbroken. I won’t be the last.”

  “That doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”

  “When did you get all wise?”

  He laughed. “When you pumped me full of drugs.”

  So she was right, and he’d tried to warn her beforehand with the holding his liquor comment. “Makes getting a buzz a lot cheaper than getting drunk.”

  “I guess that depends on where you’re buying your vodka. Some of that stuff is cheap.” He paused. “And nasty.”

  She should answer his question. Dragging things out would turn anything she said into a big deal, and it wasn’t. Then why are you hesitating? Because it was personal. No other reason. “I had a regular at the club.” Telling Mason this had the potential to hurt him, but that wasn’t why she was delving into it. “I’m not saying this to be mean.”

  “You realize when someone says that, they tend to follow with something me
an.” He didn’t sound upset.

  Her laugh was weak. “Touché.”

  “A regular at the club?” he prompted.

  She forced a jumble of emotions aside. “Older guy. Not like old, though. Early thirties.” She refused to ramble. She wanted to share this because it was part of who she was. It felt wrong to hide that from Mason. “Big-wig sales guy for the shipping company that’s headquartered down there. We had a kind of friends-with-benefits thing going on. But not really friends. We called ourselves that. We were more like... the right kind of fucked up to like sex mixed with intelligent-but-still-meaningless conversation.”

  “He sounds like an asshole.” A hint of emotion slid into Mason’s reply.

  “He is.” She’d never thought of Wyatt that way before, but the outside perspective felt right. “He’s that kind of confident and arrogant you think you want to be.”

  “What happened to him?”

  Ginny searched for the right words, and a bitter laugh slipped out.

  “What?” Mason asked.

  “He fell for a woman who’s in love with someone else.”

  “Ah.” Mason slid lower in his seat. The hints of stress had evaporated again. “I don’t love Trina. I might have thought it was love, when we were dating. I like her. She’s nice, and I was serious when I said the two of you would probably get along. This might surprise you, but there aren’t a lot of women I feel comfortable just talking to.”

  “I never would have guessed,” Ginny teased. This shouldn’t feel easy. Not when it came to exposing bits of herself. But it did. I don’t love Trina. The admission stuck in her head. She wanted to move on, and it bounced around like an excited puppy.

  “Yeah, yeah.” He waved his hand dismissively, humor in his words. “I’m sorry things with your... whatever-guy didn’t work out.”

  “Nah. It’s like you said. There aren’t a lot of men I feel comfortable just talking to.” Was that true? She talked to anyone. It didn’t faze her. But never in depth. This was only one bit of her, and it was difficult to spill. She’d never tell anyone else this. “I thought he was one of them. Last time I saw him it was because he wanted to forget her. It didn’t work. And I realized I was letting myself be used, so I’d have a little company.”

  “That’s something I’m actually sorry to hear.”

  As opposed to hearing I broke up with a fuck buddy. She twisted her lips with bitterness. “Live and learn, right?”

  “Once again, that doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”

  No. But talking about it helped the sting a lot more than she expected. I guess the Benadryl is working for both of us. “I swore I’d never tell anyone that.”

  “Why tell me?”

  She liked this side of Mason. Then again, when she let go of her own hang-ups, and he wasn’t insulting her, she liked most sides of him. “Because I trust you. Because you’re you and not him.”

  “I’m not drunk, you know.” He covered her hand. The light touch flitted through her veins and made her heart flutter. “I’ll remember all of this when the drugs wear off.”

  “You sure as fuck better.” She had to chuckle to hide her discomfort. Not with him, but with herself. “I’d be hurt if I bared part of my soul and it was a black spot in your memory tomorrow.”

  He squeezed her fingers. “As you should be.”

  “Does it bother you?” She didn’t want to care about the answer, but she did.

  “Knowing someone treated you that way? Yes.”

  “Knowing I had that kind of relationship with someone.” She clenched her toes and braced herself for either a yes or a very bad lie.

  “Do you realize how complicated that question is?”

  Her breath caught at the lack of answer. “It could be.”

  He traced his thumb along the back of her hand in a lazy path. “There’s this bit of me that’s jealous this guy knew you in a way I don’t. There’s a rational part of me whispering your past is your own, and my opinion doesn’t matter.”

  “And?” She filled in the unspoken word.

  “What makes you think there’s an and?”

  “Intuition.” Fear. Self-doubt. The need to not have this conversation end poorly.

  “The last part of me wants to be the guy who shows you something better, but I don’t know if I should listen to that part?” He was getting more introspective than she expected. He was also starting to slur his words.

  It was both reassuring and terrifying. “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not sure how shrtong its tiesh are to the jealousy. I don’t know if I want to show you because of you, or because of him.”

  “If you want my professional opinion, you should listen to all of yourself, and fiddle with the last bit until an answer becomes clear.” Professional opinion. She wanted to laugh at herself. She’d never been less certain of anything than she was about what she felt right now. Who was she to give him advice on introspection?

  “Maybe.” His grip loosened, and his hand fell away. “I hope I haven’t offended you.”

  “No. So far from it.” She wanted to say more, but the drag in his voice implied they were to the part of the afternoon where he would start forgetting things.

  “Good.” He rested his head against the window. “I don’t like hurting you.” The last words trailed off. A moment later, his breathing evened out.

  She wouldn’t be able to put this entire thing behind her as easily. She felt raw, like she’d ripped a bit of herself out and put it on display. Technically, she had.

  There was no regret, but would she be able to get back to that side of Mason again without pills?

  Did it matter? It wasn’t as though they’d see each other again after this trip.

  We could. He can show me around the state. We can be friends.

  Could they really? Was she lying to herself that he was anything more than Wyatt had been? Mason cared a lot more.

  And he doesn’t love Trina. She was hung up on that, and shouldn’t be. They could just be words. He believed them, and Ginny wanted to cling to them more than she should. It would hurt if she did.

  Because at the end of the day, at the end of the trip, he wouldn’t want the ex-stripper in his life, and she wouldn’t have the patience for his assumptions.

  That should put her mind at ease. So why did it feel like she was cramming a new reality on top of the one that should be there?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Ginny didn’t care for being stuck in her own head. Mason woke up a few times, but for the most part he slept until they reached their stopping point for the night.

  She got them a room, woke him up enough to help him stumble inside, and took off his shoes after he collapsed on one bed.

  She nibbled on leftover food from the gas station, and tried to keep her attention on the TV instead of him. Dinner wasn’t happening tonight. She’d been looking forward to his company.

  And to paying him back. That wasn’t quite right though. She didn’t want to do it to owe him, but because she liked the idea of doing something nice for him.

  Inspiration struck. If you’re ever in Vegas... the voice in her memory was that of an old regular.

  Ginny had never intended to call in the casino manager’s offer, but it would make for one hell of a night. Las Vegas wasn’t too far out of their way. They could stop there tomorrow.

  After she made the call, she sank back against her headboard. She looked at Mason, who slept peacefully on his bed. This degree should make it easier to sort out her own thoughts, right?

  Instead, her brain was a muddled mess.

  MASON DIDN’T REMEMBER the last time he slept so well. That should make the drive today go well.

  He had fuzzy memories of Ginny checking them into a motel last night. The room looked a lot like yesterday’s, and tonight’s would probably be similar as well.

  Food from the gas station sat on the table next to his bed. The shower was running in the other room. Correction—it had just shut off.
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  He grabbed a package of cookies, tore it open, and munched on one.

  There was one guy...

  Ginny’s story—confession?—flowed back into his head.

  Mason clenched his fist, and the cookies were suddenly dry in his mouth. He grabbed a bottle of soda and swallowed a too-carbonated, room temperature swig.

  He loved a woman who was in love with someone else.

  Mason had been furious when he heard that the first time. His anger hadn’t faded with sleep.

  Something new was there, too. Was he the same as this guy she knew? Using Ginny to ignore someone else?

  I don't love Trina.

  He’d said that. There was no surge of regret associated with the words. A little confusion. Why was he perplexed about something he already knew?

  Because it still felt true, even with the drugs fading from his system. And he hadn’t believed it before now.

  The bathroom door snicked open, and Ginny stepped into the main room. Her hair hung in wet waves around her shoulders. The smile she flashed him was pure sunshine. “Morning, sleepy-head. Bathroom is yours.”

  Fuck, she was stunning. This complex, brilliant, abrasive woman. He couldn't drag his gaze away. “Great. Thanks. I didn’t mean to sleep so late.”

  “No worries. We have time.”

  He reached for his bag, the conversation from yesterday still playing on a loop in his head. He didn’t know what to do or say or think. Things had changed. A simple exchange of words, and he’d turned their entire dynamic on his head. He wasn’t upset. But there was a lot of uncertainty about what next. He sank back onto the bed.

  “You all right?” She didn’t seem bothered at all.

  “Was I an idiot yesterday?” Not quite what he meant to ask, but he didn’t have the right words.

  Ginny’s smile wavered. “Not even close.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “So certain, I’m offended you want to apologize.”

  Mason’s filters had been completely gone. He’d pried. Dug into a painful bit of her past. Used the excuse for a little introspection. That last bit wasn’t so bad. “If you promise me I wasn’t a douche.”