by Linda Kage
He still had that rugged sharp face I adored, but his cheekbones and the cleft in his chin looked extra pronounced in the florescent glow of the bathroom light, while his eyes took on a dreamy silver hue.
A very pissed off dreamy silver hue.
Scowling at me, he lifted his thick eyebrows as if to say, “Well?” which reminded me I hadn’t answered his question yet.
Whoops.
“I…I’m babysitting.” Duh.
But he looked so condemning, as if he thought I’d purposely snuck into his house and had staked out this very bathroom just to catch a peek of him in a towel and try to read his tattoo. It got my dander up.
I scowled back, growing defensive. “What the hell are you doing, taking a shower with the door wide open while I’m babysitting?” I set my hands on my hips and arched my own eyebrows.
Yeah, answer that one, buddy.
“I didn’t know you were here,” he snapped back. “And the latch doesn’t work. I shut it as best as I could, but it still floats open when the exhaust fan is on.”
Oh. Hmm, maybe that’s what Dawn had told me: that the door latch—not the toilet—was broken. My bad.
But that still didn’t excuse his crotchety attitude.
I tried—really—to keep my stare above his neck, but that was like plopping someone onto the ledge of a hundred-story skyscraper and telling them not to look down.
I so looked down. And yep, he was still sexy from head to toe.
He cleared his throat in a disgusted, do-you-mind kind of way.
Busted. I jerked my gaze back up.
“Isn’t my mom home yet?” he asked when he finally had my attention on his face.
When he made it sound as if it were my fault that she wasn’t, I huffed out an impatient breath. “Apparently not.”
But really, what a tragedy. A guy with his level of hotness turning out to be a rude jerk was like stumbling across a steaming hot strip of perfectly fried bacon only to turn it over and realize it had mold growing on it. Not cool.
“I fell asleep on the couch after putting Sarah to bed and no one woke me. Wouldn’t she have woken me if she’d come home?”
“She must be working overtime for someone, then.” He closed his eyes and silently mouthed something, but I’d never been good at reading lips, so I had no clue what he said. Finally, he sighed as if forfeiting a mental battle he was having with himself and ran a hand through his thick, wet, dark hair. “Well, I didn’t know you were here, okay,” he said, not for the first time, but at least he sounded defensive instead of offended this time.
It was minimal progress if you ask me. Now…if I’d had control over his lines, I would’ve had him apologizing profusely for snapping at me by now.
“And I didn’t know you were here either,” I smarted back. “You scared the crap out of me. When I woke up and heard something back here, I thought a burglar had broken in.”
The incredulous look he sent me told me he wasn’t buying it. “You thought someone broke in…to use the shower?”
“I didn’t hear the water running. Jeez.” And now I sounded just as defensive as he did. But really. “I only heard doors, or drawers, or something opening and shutting. I didn’t know what was going on.”
He glanced at the doll in my hand that I still held as a weapon. “Well, swell. I suppose I should feel so much better now, knowing Sarah is safe in your hands. If someone breaks in, you can just wield your doll there and play tea party with them to death.”
Oh, no, he didn’t.
Instead of bringing up Mr. Taser and Mace Man hanging out in my purse, I scowled. “Hey! I’ll have you know the plastic head on this doll is pretty hard. Trust me. Your sister caught me in the noggin with it earlier.” I sank my fingers into my hair and immediately found the tender goose egg she’d left behind. With a wince, I added, “You just wait. After they finish with all the gun bans, they’ll be outlawing these suckers next.”
I waved the doll for emphasis. Its limp body lobbed back and forth in a pathetic attempt at intimidation.
Mason didn’t even crack a smile at my joke. Watching me rub the side of my head, he blinked, looking horrified. “She hit you?”
“Oh, not on purpose, no. It’s nothing,” I dropped my hand from my hair. “No big whoop. We were having a good time. She was excited. Arms started flailing a little too wildly.” I mean, how could they not when I’d been wailing, ‘Give me back my golden arm?’ “But it’s all good. Don’t worry about it.”
He studied me a moment longer. I couldn’t read one discernible thought from his guarded expression. Then he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts and turned his attention away from me. “I guess I should pay you. My mom said eight dollars an hour, right?”
He continued to hold the towel in place as he bent to pick up a pair of rumpled, discarded Khakis off the floor. But as he shifted, the terrycloth stretched down in the back, and I swear I saw a peek of crack.
Oh, how I could become addicted to crack, especially when those two taut, tanned globes hugging that blessed crevice molded so perfectly to the back of his towel. They were like twin mounds of ecstasy.
Not noticing me gobbling up his rear end, he dug a hand into the pocket of his pants until he came up with a thick wad of cash. I lurched a step back, gaping at the bills he pulled free. Dear God, I sooo did not want to know where he’d gotten that money.
Whether it was true or not, Eva’s rumor about him being a gigolo had me rattled.
“Umm…” I panicked. “D-don’t worry about it. I’ll just square it up with Dawn later.”
He tilted his head as he eyed me, dissecting me to bits with his penetrating gaze. “Trust me.” He waved the cash in his hand. “You’re going to get paid from these exact bills right here. Does it really matter whether I give them to you now or if I pass them along to my mother, who probably won’t remember to give them to you until next week…if not later?”
I stalled, still not wanting to touch his allegedly dirty money. But I really had earned that cash tonight. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was nominated into the babysitter hall of fame after the way I’d pampered Sarah—excluding the first few minutes of the evening, of course.
Still, it was kind of sad to realize he was taking on this kind of responsibility for his sibling. My older sister had certainly never worried about paying my babysitters before. I wondered what kind of weight had been thrust onto Mason Lowe’s shoulders so early in his life.
His eyes narrowed with defiance, daring me to reject his offer as he peeled back two twenties and handed them to me.
“Well…when you put it that way....” I tried to sound all nonchalant, but I knew he could tell how not-casual I felt about taking his money.
A little sick to my stomach, I felt this irrepressible need to turn on my heels and escape. But slowly, I reached out and slipped the bills from his long fingers, making sure not to touch his heated skin in the process. “Thanks.”
When a surprisingly feminine smell caught my senses after the cash passed hands, I twitched my nose. Lifting the twenties to my nostrils, I inhaled deeply.
Mason’s brows burrowed as he sent me a perplexed frown.
I blushed. “Sorry. I just…They smell like…Is that…Chanel No. 5?”
As his face blanched of color, I knew immediately. Everything Eva had said about him was absolutely true. Rich women paid him for sex. My skin prickled with a chilling awareness, realizing exactly what kind of things he’d done to earn this cash.
His jaw bulged. “I wouldn’t know,” he bit out from between clenched teeth. “I don’t ask.”
I wanted to drop the tainted, illegally gained funds. But holy guacamole. I was standing in the doorway of a steamy bathroom, staring at an honest-to-God gigolo who was wet and naked and covered by nothing but a bath towel. This was so going in the Christmas letter I was going to write to all my girlfriends.
The whole situation must’ve affected me way more than I realized, because without planning
what I was going to say, I blurted, “What do you ask, then?”
He shrugged and studied me with a mocking kind of insolence. “Not much. My clients aren’t exactly the shy type. They tell me what they want and typically don’t leave a lot of room for questions.”
My mouth fell open.
Oh. My. God.
“Oh, wow. So you’re actually admitting you’re a…a…”
He straightened pulling back slightly. “What? Haven’t you heard the rumors? As tight as you appeared to be with Eva Mercer on campus the other day, I would’ve assumed she’d told you every dirty detail about me by now.”
I sputtered and flushed hard. “I…Yeah…I mean, she told me some crazy gossip, but…I’m not sure if I believed any of it.”
He didn’t confirm or deny. He just watched me, waiting for my next move.
I figured people had two distinct responses to him: They either got as far away from him as feasibly possible or they moved closer in an effort to find out just how good he was at his job.
I did neither.
“Does your mom know?” I asked, rooted to the spot.
Dawn seemed way too nice—and moral—to allow her son to do such a thing.
He glanced away, and I once again caught a glimpse of the regret I’d seen on his face when I’d first spotted him in the bathroom. “I have a feeling she suspects.”
Whoa. This was big. This was so big. “This is just…” I shook my head, not sure what to say. “Yeah.”
Poor Dawn. She seemed so nice. If I were her and knew my twenty-year-old son was selling his body for sex, I’d—well, I wasn’t too certain what I’d do. It was obvious they could use more money, but this seemed kind of extreme.
I settled him with a probing stare. “Doesn’t it bother you that she knows—”
“No, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside,” he snapped with a glare. “Jesus. How do you think I feel about her knowing?”
All righty, then.
I opened my mouth to apologize, but he shook his head. “No. No more. The question and answer portion of this evening is over. You have your babysitting money, and I’m home to stay with Sarah. You can go.”
“I…” Realizing enough was enough, I nodded. “Okay.”
Ducking my head, I turned away, barely pausing to collect my things before I hurried from the house.
CHAPTER FIVE
The next morning, I felt craptacular as I slunk across campus, lugging my breakfast I’d stopped along the way to buy. Wallowing in my solitude, I was glad I wouldn’t see Eva in any of my classes today, because I probably would’ve been all bitchy and crabby to her.
The night before still bothered me. How could I have been that rude and nosey to Mason? I couldn’t believe I’d come right out and asked him such intrusive questions about his secret lifestyle.
I mean, I knew I had a snoopy side and it usually went to extreme lengths to appease its curiosity, but I had been so incredibly insensitive.
I hoped I wouldn’t see him every evening I had to babysit. That could get awkward real fast.
And on the flip side: How could such an amazingly hot hottie be so completely unavailable, live such a corrupt life…and act so hostile?
Nothing made sense anymore.
Trudging past the bronze statues in front of the main campus building, I was trying to think up a way to get past this when I caught sight of Hotness himself sitting on one of the benches along the sidewalk paths. With one leg crossed over the other and his ankle resting on his opposite knee, he’d spread open a textbook on his lap. He wrote madly in a notepad, pausing every few seconds to consult the book.
I reacted instantly, jerking to an abrupt halt. God, he looked good. Up close, from a distance, it didn’t matter. The boy didn’t have a bad side.
He’s a gigolo, Reese, my inner conscience reminded me. That means off limits. Way off limits.
But he was also a gigolo who hated me, and a gigolo whose good side I needed to get on if I wanted my babysitting duties to progress smoothly. And he was just so pretty.
Changing my course, I turned his way and approached boldly. He didn’t notice me until I stood right in front of him and said, “Here.” In a peace offering attempt, I thrust forward the steaming cup and small brown paper bag I’d been carrying.
He looked up, brushed the hair out of his eyes with the end of his pen, and blinked at my gifts before returning his confused gaze back to me.
“This is my apology,” I explained, “for being such a rude, nosey bitch to you last night. I’m…really sorry. I mean, what you do in your personal life is totally none of my business, and I shouldn’t have been meddlesome. Please believe me when I say I never meant to offend you.”
When he didn’t reply and didn’t reach for my breakfast, I shifted nervously. Okay, so maybe things between us could get more awkward.
This was so not helpful.
A stubborn streak bit me and suddenly I refused to give up on my apology. I set the covered cup and baggie beside him on the bench with a plunk. “It’s a bear claw in the bag and a white chocolate mocha espresso in the cup,” I explained. “I don’t…I wasn’t sure what you’d like. So…I hope it’ll do.”
There. Pleased with myself for making it sound as if I’d bought my breakfast for him all along, I blasted him with a wide smile. When he didn’t return it, my own dropped.
“Okay, then.” I cleared my throat. “Have a good day.”
I turned away, and the jerk face didn’t call after me. So I walked off before he could respond.
Oh, who was I kidding? I’d given him plenty of time to respond. There’s been a good five-second pause of uncomfortable silence after each sentence I’d said. And he hadn’t gifted me with one word from his beautiful voice. The bastard.
I was irrationally hurt. But, hello. He wouldn’t forgive me for anything. Truly repentant people should be forgiven. Gah.
Marching faster with each lungful of rising ire, I veered right toward the nursing center, a smaller, oval-shaped building beside the main hall, where my first class of the day took place. Instead of entering it, however, I hurried around the side and paused before sneaking a peek back to where Mason was sitting.
He stared at my breakfast as if it might be hazardous. I’d just convinced myself he was going to stand up and walk away without touching either the cup or the baggie when he reached out a cautious hand and gingerly picked up the latte. He held it another second, simply studying the brand on the container before he brought it to his mouth and took a timid sip, quickly pulling back.
Scowling at the cup, he licked his lips. My breathing stalled in my chest as I waited. Then he drank again, longer this time, tipping the bottom up as his throat worked through each swallow.
A pleasant buzz of warmth stole through me, as if he were drinking in a piece of me instead of my espresso.
With his next pass, he guzzled with abandon, draining the contents dry. Looking much less intimidating and much more approachable now, he set the latte aside, smacking his lips as he opened the sack to pull out my bear claw. He took a hearty bite from the fried dough and chewed with a cheek full before returning his attention to his homework. As he set his pen back to the page, the foot he had crossed over his ankle bobbed in a merry manner.
Hmm. At least he looked pleased by my gift…even if he couldn’t bother to exonerate me aloud to my face.
Strangely satisfied by his reaction, I turned away and strolled to class, unable to stop smiling.
~$~
It had taken me all of thirty seconds on Tuesday to decide my General Virology course was going to suck ass. After my second round of it this morning, I almost considered changing my major entirely.
But at least I wasn’t alone in my frustrations. As soon as class let out, complaining started all around me.
“We really need to start a study group,” Ethan, the guy who’d sat beside me on the first day, announced to the room at large.
I could definitely get in on a
little of that action, so I raised my hand. “Ooh! Count me in.”
“Me too,” a couple more people spoke up.
And thus, I had a study group arranged for Tuesday evenings after my library shift. My schedule was filling by the day. If I wasn’t careful, I might actually appear to have a life soon.
Tickled that things were working out for me better in Waterford than I had expected they would, I trooped to the cafeteria next, starved since I’d given my breakfast away to the ungrateful bastard jerk face, who was still more beautiful than any man should be.
After purchasing a fully loaded salad-to-go, I found a deserted table outside and parked myself. I’d just opened the plastic lid to my lunch, my mouth watering for some ripe, green lettuce, when a shadow fell over my food, jarring me alert.
“Wha—” I glanced up, almost expecting to see Jeremy’s leering grin, but gasped when I found Mason Lowe instead, hovering next to my table with his messenger bag once again strapped diagonally across his chest.
“What’d you say that drink you gave me this morning was called again?”
“Umm…” I blinked, unable to stop staring at him standing only three feet away. “Uh, it was a…a white chocolate mocha espresso. Why?”
Yikes, I hope it hadn’t given him the scoots. That might get nasty.
But he made a pleasant humming sound in the back of his throat. “Mmm. It wasn’t bad. Thanks.”
Thanks?
Dizziness swamped me. The appreciative way he spoke sounded so genuine, so…so sexy, my entire body responded.
“Well….” I cleared my throat. Respond, Reese. Freaking say something back to him already. “Yeah.” I swung out my hand as if to sign ‘you’re welcome’. “And…and thank you for, you know, forgiving me for the way I acted last night.”
Okay, he hadn’t quite said, ‘you’re forgiven for the way you acted last night’, but I was going to interpret his presence as just that.
I blew out a relieved-sounding breath. “I thought you totally hated me.”
