Oh, who was she kidding? She wasn’t sure he’d go for anything she had to say.
Not anymore.
When she first started at the company, things hadn’t been as bad. Stan had listened to her just as much as he’d listened to the other interns, which, honestly, wasn’t all that much to begin with. However, over time, as she started to voice her opinions more and proved her own skills, the resentment streaming from her co-workers had started to sink in. The crude comments and backstabbing hadn’t been crazy, but it had been enough for her to learn to hide under her clothes, and eventually within herself.
Without consciously planning it, she’d put all her hopes and dreams into Red Swan. The day-to-day stress of the Boys’ Club was almost too much. If Stan didn’t choose Red Swan for the bid…well…
Damn it.
She wasn’t sure what she’d do, but she had a feeling it would hurt. Just because Franklin and Geoff had the edge because they were not only working together, but had dicks as well, didn’t mean she’d lose the bid automatically.
Presley wasn’t about to give up.
She’d put her heart and soul into Red Swan and would win because she was the best. Though others might doubt her, she knew gamers were ready for a female lead character beyond Lara Croft. The industry was ready, and there were already a dozen female protagonists out there kicking ass.
So would Red Swan.
Presley got to work, draining her coffee and gluing her eyes to the screen until she lost track of time and the rays of the setting sun reflected off the Once Upon a Time mirror in the room, blinding her.
“Knock knock, workaholic.”
Presley screamed and threw herself back. Her chair hit the lip of the heavy plastic floor covering that protected her carpet, and she flipped ass over teakettle.
“Shit! Presley, honey, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Mason rushed to help her up from her tangle on the floor.
Embarrassed, she sat up quickly, slamming her head into his chin. He reared back, slamming the back of his head into the desk and sending her to the ground again.
“Fuck!”
The deep growl of his voice over restrained laughter made her lose it.
Her stomach ached, and tears streaked her face as she laughed at the two of them. Mason raised a dark brown brow, his jade green eyes twinkling with mirth before he threw his head back and joined in her laughter.
“Sorry. I’m so sorry,” she rasped out through her choked giggles.
“Jesus, Presley, you’ve got a hard head.” He winced, running his tongue over his teeth.
She rolled her eyes then put her hand in his so he could help her up. “Shut up. I’m sure your jaw is fine. The back of your head might hurt from the desk, but that was all you and your own hard cranium. I apologized, and you called me hardheaded.” She narrowed her eyes even as her lips twitched.
Mason chuckled then tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She sucked in a surprised breath then shook it off. This was Mason for God’s sake. She must have hit her head harder than she’d thought.
He gave her a strange look, cleared his throat, and took a step back. “I said you had a hard head. Not that you were hardheaded. There’s a difference. Anyway, sorry for scaring you. When I came in, you looked so into your work I figured you hadn’t taken a break in a while.”
The thought of Mason watching her and she hadn’t noticed gave her an odd feeling in her belly, but she ignored it. Mason was right. It had been too long since she’d taken a break.
“I didn’t hear you come in. I must have been really into it.”
He met her gaze. “Must have.”
Each of them had a key to the other’s home and used it daily it seemed. They could walk into each other’s homes without knocking and know they’d be welcome.
It was, after all, not like they’d walk in on the other person in a compromising position.
“So, what’s up?” she asked, running a hand over her butt. She’d hit hard the second time she’d fallen.
“I brought groceries. I’m hungry.” Mason smiled wide and patted his belly.
She snorted. “First, you’re a grown man. You can cook. Second, you could have ordered in if you’re really that hungry.”
“I wanted home-cooked food, and you’re a better cook than me anyway. Please?” He grinned, and she was lost. Besides, she was hungry, too.
“Fine, but you get to do dishes and tell me about your day.”
Mason fist-pumped the air like a ten-year-old boy then wrapped his arms around her, kissing her temple.
Presley ignored the little jolt in her belly and pulled away.
“Okay, okay,” she said after she cleared her throat. “I get it. You’re hungry.”
“Thank you, Pres. Come on. I’ll help. I’m not that mean.”
“Sure, but don’t think that’ll get you out of doing the dishes.”
They made their way to her kitchen, and she kept her gaze pointedly away from the counter-that-shall-not-be-noticed.
She might be over Trent, but even the thought of the image permanently burned in her brain hurt her.
Mason glared at the counter, and she wanted to hug him all over again. He’d been just as angry at his brother as she had been. Well, from the way she’d had to ice his fist that first night, he might have been a tad bit angrier—something she hadn’t thought possible.
Seriously, Mason was the only good thing that had come out of her disaster of a relationship with Trent.
“So, what did you bring for me to cook?” she asked as she washed her hands in the sink.
Mason stuck his head in the fridge and began pulling out steak, vegetables, soy sauce, rice wine, and ginger.
“Stir fry called to me,” he answered as he put everything on the safe, usable counter.
The unmentionable counter currently held no place in her daily kitchen life.
And that was enough of that train of thought.
Her stomach rumbled, and she cursed herself. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and a latte for lunch just wasn’t going to cut it. Thank God Mason had come when he had, or she would’ve starved.
“Stir fry sounds fantastic. You want rice or the crunch noodles to go with it?”
“Can we have both?” Mason asked, grinning again.
Dear Lord, he was adorable sometimes.
No, he wasn’t adorable. He was Mason.
There was a difference.
“Sure, start on the rice, and I’ll get started on the veggies.” He nodded then got to work.
“Tell me about your day,” he said as he measured the water.
“You were supposed to tell me about yours,” she said as she started slicing onions, blinking so she wouldn’t cry.
“Mine was boring. Lots of plants. Trees. But no annoying people telling me what to do. So yeah, it was pretty good.”
She rolled her eyes. Mason sometimes had to work with Trent because of his job as a landscape architect. Trent, a land developer, depended on Mason and took advantage of the fact that Mason needed that paycheck.
Bastard.
“Fine. Mine sucked.” She told him about the meeting and Red Swan, being fully open with him about what she was feeling at work.
“Those fuckers. It’s bad enough you think you have to dress like something you’re not for them. Now they’re going behind your back? Jesus. If it wasn’t for your boss being in on it, I’d say find a way around it. But fuck, Pres. What’re you going to do?
She shrugged as she heated up the oil in the wok. “Work my ass off and hope that’s enough. If not…well, we’ll come to that when we do.”
“I’m sorry, hon.” He turned toward her, but she’d just placed the chicken breasts into the hot oil. It popped, splattering on her arm. She winced and pulled back before she fell into his arms.
Immediately, he wrapped his arms around her, and she looked up into his eyes. His pupils dilated, and she swallowed hard, her gaze lowering to his mouth.
He licked his lip
s, and she leaned forward, closing her eyes.
The oil popped again, and they pulled away like they’d been burned.
Literally.
“Uh, I need to put water on this,” she rambled. “Will you flip the chicken?”
“Sure,” Mason grunted.
What the hell had that been? No. She couldn’t have almost kissed Mason. That didn’t compute. He was her best friend. Not someone she wanted like that. It must just be that they were hungry. Or maybe they both missed sex and sensual touches so much that any touch would lead to weird, irrational thoughts. That was it.
He was Mason.
Her friend.
Nothing more.
Right?
Chapter Four
What the hell was he thinking? Mason had almost ruined the best thing that had ever happened in his life because his dick was fucking crazy. The sun beat down on him as he stood in the lot of the garden center, trying to figure out his next move.
Thinking about kissing his best friend was the most idiotic plan he’d ever had. Well¸ considering it hadn’t been planned at all, and instead, had led him to being a complete bastard by almost brushing his lips over hers, he was grateful she’d had the common sense to pull away.
Or had he been the one to pull away?
God, he didn’t even know.
He could still picture the look in her eyes, the way her pupils had dilated when he leaned closer. He could still smell the sweet scent that was all Presley. No matter how hard she tried to dress like a man to blend with her coworkers, she was still very much a woman. All curves and delicious scents that made his cock hard.
No.
Nope.
Not going to think about that.
Presley was his best friend. That was it.
He needed to get laid. That had to be it. He and Presley might have had a moratorium on dating for the rest of their lives, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have sex. Hell, that made him sound like a douche. He wanted to have a sexual relationship without an emotional one apparently, and he was all too aware he wasn’t cut out for that. Lorena had proven it. He’d been the one who’d fallen for her while she was just using him.
Well, maybe that wasn’t the case because he was all too ready for her to leave him without a second glance. Maybe that’s not what he’d thought before, but in retrospect that seemed to be the case. He’d gotten over her and had moved on. It was the trail of heartbreak and embarrassment that had been left. So maybe if he found the right person, the right set of circumstances, he could actually have a relationship that didn’t include a future. If there wasn’t any promise beyond no hard feelings, he might be able to shield himself from any pain.
Not that it would happen in any case. No such woman existed, and frankly, he wasn’t sure if he could do that.
So it would be him and his hand for a long while it seemed.
That’s all he’d had for months, so it wouldn’t be any different at this point.
He had his best friend in his life, and that’s all he needed.
After their near-kiss in the kitchen the day before, he and Presley had ignored what happened and finished making dinner. It had started out awkward as hell, but they eventually found their rhythm again.
Thank God.
He didn’t know what he would’ve done if that one moment screwed up what they had. He could rely on her in so many ways, and he knew she felt the same. She’d told him. They were closer than he’d ever thought possible with another person, let alone someone of the opposite sex. He was just horny since it had been a long time since he’d had a woman, so that had to explain the reason he’d almost kissed her.
Well, that, and he’d noticed her body and allure long before she and Trent quit dating. He’d just ignored it since she was his brother’s girlfriend and he’d had Lorena.
Now neither of them had that excuse.
Damn it. Nope. He had to pull his thoughts out of what could have become of him and Presley if he’d actually leaned closer the night before and taken her as his.
So not going to happen.
He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. He had work to do, and thinking about Presley wasn’t helping the situation. They were going to have a barbecue later that night with just the two of them that they’d been planning for weeks, and he needed to make sure he was ready to act normal. Because everything was normal.
Damn it.
Mason let out a breath that came out as more of a growl then got to work. He’d placed an order with the local garden center for his next project, and hoped they hadn’t screwed it up this time. They were a good business and usually treated Mason well, but as he didn’t have Trent’s money, he lost out on things sometimes. When he didn’t take one of Trent’s offered—meaning forced—jobs at one of the ritzy developments that made no sense to Mason, Trent would buy out what Mason needed for his own projects, fucking over his current job.
Trent was all suits and ambition while Mason was dirt and roots. It had always been that way, and no matter what he’d tried to do to patch their relationship up when he was younger, it never worked. Trent did what he wanted and used whomever he could to get ahead in the land development world, and Mason worked his ass off to clean up his brother’s messes.
Mason wasn’t a fucking hippie, in spite of what Trent said, but he did care about the environment and used natural and native plants he found on his own for his projects. When he was forced to work with his brother because of lack of funds and the need to eat and pay rent, he had to do what Trent wanted, but Mason did his best not to negatively impact the environment when he did it.
If things panned out, though, Mason wouldn’t have to work with his brother—well, for was the description Trent liked to use—too much longer. He’d applied for a job on a government grant out of state that would allow him to do what he actually wanted to do, create sanctuaries and other environmentally sound projects, rather than work for his rich brother.
Of course, that was all a pipe dream if he really thought about it. There was really no way that anyone from out of state would hire him from the vast pool of people applying for the grant and position. There was such a minuscule chance he hadn’t even told Presley about it. Why worry either of them with something that might never happen?
For now, he’d put his head down, work on the projects he could, and save as much money as possible so he could walk away from Trent for good.
With that in mind, he went into the garden center and held back a sigh of relief that they had everything he needed. It seemed Trent hadn’t gotten to them yet. Thank God. It might be bad business for them to sell his crap before he got there, but Trent was always good about lining pockets and putting on that annoyingly charming smile to get what he wanted.
Now Mason had enough of what he needed to finish his project on time and make a decent profit on it. It was about time that happened.
He worked late into the afternoon, stripping his shirt off in the Austin heat. He couldn’t afford helpers and other workers on small projects like this, so he was the one who did all the heavy lifting. Maybe one day he’d have help, but for now, this was his life. He loved the feel of dirt on his hands and sweat on his brow. It made him think he’d actually done something worth doing for the day. He loved seeing what he could do with a piece of property and how he could make it flourish using what nature had provided.
Okay, so maybe he was a bit of a hippie.
Whatever.
“Such a migrant worker.”
Mason froze, his hands deep in mulch. He let out a breath then looked over his shoulder. “Lorena.” Beautiful, bitchy, and apparently racist, Lorena.
“I was driving by and just happened to look out the window, and what do I see? A silly little man with his hands in the dirt. Imagine that.”
Mason didn’t respond, nor did he give her any expression at all. God, he truly didn’t care about her. Not in the slightest. He didn’t hate her for leaving and didn’t want her back. He ju
st didn’t care.
That was a sad state in itself.
“Nothing? Not going to tell me about how plants are life and I need to hug a tree?”
He raised a brow. Was she really so bored she wanted to pick a fight? Jesus, he was so close to being done for the day so that he could go home, grab a shower, and see Presley.
Presley.
Yep, so much better for him than Lorena—even if they were just friends.
“I’m almost done, Lorena. If you don’t need anything, I’d take it kindly if you move away. You don’t want me to accidently get some of this mulch on that fancy dress of yours.”
Lorena narrowed her eyes, even as she took a step back. “You wouldn’t.”
Mason stood, mulch in his hands. She scurried away to her car, driving off in a huff. Okay, so he wouldn’t have thrown mulch at her like some toddler, but it was a good deterrent anyway.
What were the odds that Lorena would be driving by while he was working? He looked over his shoulder at the neighborhood and shrugged. Well, it was one of those gated community types, so really, it was just like her type of place to socialize with women who thought they were too good for the likes of him.
Jesus, he needed to stop judging and get back to work. This was going to give him an ulcer if he didn’t let it all go.
He finished up his work for the day and headed home. By the time he finished his shower and picked up the beer from his fridge, he was ready to call it a day and just relax. If it had been anyone else, Mason would have begged off and just hung out at home, but Presley had bought the damn grill for her deck and wanted to try it out. He wasn’t going to deprive her of this.
Like always, he walked in without knocking, beer under one arm and a sack of corn in the other. They were going to do dinner right that night. He made his way to the back deck, where Presley danced in a little circle, her sundress brushing her knees. Mason swallowed hard, forcing his gaze from her legs. Damn it, he shouldn’t be looking at her legs. Only, when he looked up, she faced him and all he could do was pull his eyes from her chest.
Her really fucking amazing chest.
He coughed, setting the beer next to her small cooler and licked his lips. “Hey.”
Finally Found You Page 4
