Chase’s fury had apparently sobered him up a bit, if only because it had surprised him as much as it had Mason.
It reminded Mason of when Chase used to stand up for him in high school… and also reminded him that Chase could take care of himself—that he didn’t need Mason to be around to save the day.
“It’s all good, Chase,” Roger said. “I was only fucking with your guy, that’s all. He just needs to develop a sense of humor.”
Chase took a breath before releasing Roger’s shirt collar. “Whatever, Roger.”
Roger collected himself. He ran his hand through his hair before turning to Mason. “We good, man?”
When Mason didn’t reply, Roger narrowed his eyes, then scanned Mason up and down. “Oh, looks like you need some new shoes, buddy,” he said. “But I guess you don’t have much use for them on a farm.”
Mason glanced at his oxfords—there were some creases in them from years of use, but he’d never really worn them, so he hadn’t considered buying new ones. But he didn’t give a damn about whether or not Roger liked his shoes. What concerned him most was that Roger was the sort of man Chase was attracted to—fashionable, high-end… and just a fucking asshole, really.
Mason wasn’t like that at all, so what the fuck did Chase still see in him?
It was just another reminder that, happy as he’d been by hearing Chase call him his husband, they were part of different worlds now—and Chase loved his world. Chase didn’t belong on the dairy any more than Mason belonged in West Hollywood.
What was he doing? What weretheydoing?
* * *
“In case you’re wondering, I won’t be calling,” Chase said as he quieted the rage Roger had stirred.
His cheeks cooled, and his hands trembled.
When Roger had started moving toward Mason, obviously looking for a fight, Chase’s defenses had kicked in, filled him with a fury and a passion unlike anything Chase had seen in a long time. But he sure as fuck wasn’t about to let some asshole lay a hand on his Mason.
Chase set his hand on Mason’s back and guided him away from the bar toward the main entrance. He needed to get out of there, considering one more smart-ass comment from Roger and he was going to deck him.
When they got outside, they started down the sidewalk toward his condo, a silence stretching between them. Why did they have to fucking run into that prick? They were having such a good time, enjoying reconnecting on so many levels, and fuck if something didn’t have to come in and ruin it all.
As Mason walked at a steady pace, he looked on edge, uneasy from their run-in with a guy he’d seen for just a few weeks.
Chase understood why, though. At least when Chase had encountered Brody, he had been cordial.
“Sorry Roger was such an asshole,” Chase said. “I wish I could say he was cooler when I met him, but that would be a lie.”
“I haven’t seen Feisty like that in a very long time. Of course, that’s not the kind of guy Feisty would have been interested in.”
Chase could feel his judgment—his resentment. It evoked those same feelings he’d experienced for years whenever he’d visited the Finleys’ dairy. It hurt. So fucking much.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said. I didn’t think you were the kind of guy who would fall for some shithead like that. But I guess if a guy is hot enough and wears the right clothes…”
“Wait. What?”
Chase put his arm out in front of Mason and brought him to a halt. Mason turned to him. “Are you kidding me right now? I hooked up with that guy a few times. I hardly even knew him.”
“But he knew about me and my sister? It was obviously more than a hookup.”
“Yeah. That’s what happens when you start dating someone, Mason. You get to know them… see if you’re compatible. We weren’t, which is obviously why I haven’t talked to the guy since we went on dates five… almost six months ago. He’s drunk, and he was just trying to get some ass tonight. That’s all that was. I didn’t do anything wrong just because I dated an asshole. You want to go back to the club and see if we can dig up any of the other douchebags I’ve dated? Because believe me, I can find plenty.”
“It’s not that you did anything wrong, but that’s obviously the kind of guy you want to be with. And that’s not me. At all. I couldn’t coordinate an outfit like that if I tried, and I’m always going to have old shoes. I don’t even want to wear shit like this. I’d rather just be in a pair of boots and have my fucking hat, but here I am, pretending to be someone I’m not.”
“Who are you pretending to be? We went out to a club. Mason, I think you’re making way too big of a deal out of some stupid pissing contest between you and some trick from my past.”
“This isn’t about a trick. Not just about him, at least. This is about you. Who you’ve become. I know I said I knew you, but coming here, I just feel like you live in this totally different world. Were you so miserable on the dairy that this is what you needed? The fancy clothes? Fancy car? Fancy place? Fancy, but sleazy, man?”
